CHAPTER I.

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THE EARTH’S BEGINNING

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[Illustration: AN ENGLISH SUNSET TINGED BY KRAKATOA.

(_From a Drawing made at Chelsea at 4.40 p.m. on Nov. 26th, 1883, by Mr.

W. Ascroft._)]

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THE

EARTH’S BEGINNING

BY

SIR ROBERT S. BALL, M.A., LL.D., F.R.S.

Lowndean Professor of Astronomy and Geometry in the University of

Cambridge,

Author of “Star-Land,” “The Story of the Heavens,”

etc. etc.

WITH FOUR COLOURED PLATES AND

NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS

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LONDON, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE

MCMIX

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First Edition October 1901.

Reprinted December 1901, 1903.

Enlarged Edition 1909.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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FOREWORD

SINCE these lectures were delivered in the Royal Institution of Great

Britain there has been much advance in our knowledge of astronomy. The

simultaneous advance in other sciences allied with astronomy has been,

perhaps, even more remarkable. I am glad to avail myself of the

opportunity afforded by a new issue of “The Earth’s Beginning” to draw

attention to certain recent developments of science which relate in a

very striking way to the subject of this volume, namely, the famous

Nebular Theory of the origin of the solar system. It appears to me that

these recent developments tend to reduce greatly, even if they do not

altogether remove, the chief outstanding difficulty which has hitherto

retarded the acceptance of the Nebular Theory.

I have explained in Chapter VI. those views of Helmholtz which have for

so long provided the received explanation of the maintenance of solar

heat. Calculation shows that if the sun’s heat has been maintained by

the contraction of the primæval nebula—and this was the supposition of

Helmholtz—the orb of day cannot have radiated with its present intensity

for a period much longer than twenty million years.

But from the evidence of geology it must now be admitted that the

existence of our earth, indeed even that part of its existence during

which it has been the abode of life, has endured for a period far in

excess of that which this calculation would allow. It therefore seems to

follow that the theory of Helmholtz does not provide an adequate

explanation of such an amazing phenomenon as the continuance of a

sufficient supply of sunbeams throughout the vast periods demanded by

geological phenomena.

There is another entirely different line of reasoning by which Professor

John Joly has recently taught us the immense antiquity of our earth. His

argument is based upon an estimate of the time that must have elapsed

since the waters of the ocean, which had previously been sustained in

the great vapours of the atmosphere, were deposited in the ocean beds.

When the earth had become sufficiently cool to permit of the vapours now

forming the ocean passing from the gaseous to the liquid form, the

oceans descended from the heavens above to the earth beneath in the form

of _fresh_ water. In the lapse of subsequent ages the sea has become

salt because ordinary river water, which always contains some small

quantity of salt in solution, is continually bearing salt down to the

sea. No doubt water is constantly being abstracted from the sea by

evaporation, but only _fresh_ water is thus removed, so in this cycle of

change the salt in the sea must be gradually accumulating. Thus, day by

day, though no doubt extremely slowly, the sea has been growing more and

more salt.

Professor Joly has made an estimate of the quantity of salt daily added

to the sea by all the rivers of the globe. He has also made an estimate

of the total quantity of salt which is at present contained in the sea.

He has thus the means of forming an estimate of the number of years

necessary for the sea to have become converted from its primæval

freshness to its present saltness. His result is not a little

astonishing. The saltness of the sea could not be accounted for unless

the rivers had been running into the sea for at least a hundred million

years. This period is five times as long as the total period during

which the sun could have been shining if the Helmholtzian view were

correct.

Of course, there are many elements of uncertainty in such a calculation.

We have assumed that the total flow of the rivers is practically

constant, and that our estimate fairly represents the average salinity

of river water. We have also made a large assumption in supposing that

we have accurately estimated the total volume of salt in the oceans. But

taken in conjunction with the geological evidence already referred to,

taken in conjunction with the immense periods of time that have been

required for the evolution of life on the globe by the process of

natural selection, the conclusion arrived at is inevitable. It seems

impossible to doubt that the sun must have been shining and that our

solar system must have existed in practically the same form as it is at

present for periods enormously greater than would have been possible if

the heat of the sun had been sustained by the solar contraction only.

The difficulty here indicated has been not unjustly considered the most

serious difficulty with which the development of modern physical and

astronomical science has been confronted. The time during which the sun

must have lasted, according to the received explanation of the source of

its heat and the time during which the sun has actually lasted, as shown

by the facts of geology, present a wide discrepancy. Science demands

that some reconciliation must be effected, yet how is that to be

accomplished? There is only one possible solution of the problem. It is

obvious that there must have been some vast reserve of heat in the sun

in comparison with which the quantity of heat yielded by the contraction

may be deemed insignificant. Until this new source of solar energy had

been discovered, our knowledge of the physics of the solar system lay

under a reproach, which it was the bounden duty of men of science to

endeavour to remove.

During the last few years lines of research carried on in various

directions have, in a most unexpected manner, thrown much light on the

origin of the sun’s heat, and, indeed, we may now say that the great

difficulty which has for so long troubled us no longer exists in a

serious form.

Recent discoveries show that matter possesses stores of energy which, if

not actually boundless, are enormously in excess of what had been

previously deemed possible. These stores of energy are available for

supplying the heat of the sun, and it is easy to show that they are

amply sufficient to furnish the necessary sunbeams for even the longest

periods during which the claims of geology maintain that the sun must

have been shining.

The researches of Professor Sir J. J. Thomson have shown how corpuscles

of matter are sometimes moving with velocities enormously greater than

those of any celestial body with which astronomy had made us acquainted.

The case of high corpuscular velocity which is most generally known is

that presented by radium, the particles from which are being continually

shot forth in myriads. It is quite true that each of these corpuscles is

excessively small, and it may be useful to give the following

illustration bearing on the subject. Think of a number represented by

unity followed by eighteen cyphers, or more concisely as 10^{18}, and

think of a line a kilometre long. If that line were divided into 10^{18}

parts, each of those parts would represent the diameter of a corpuscle

of radium. If that line were multiplied by 10^{18}, the result would be

a line so long that a ray of light would require a period of no less

than 100,000 years to pass from one end to the other.

These corpuscles of radium are, no doubt, excessively small, but the

velocity with which they are moving is comparable with the velocity of

light. When a material object is moving with a velocity of that

magnitude the energy it contains in virtue of that velocity is indeed

startling. A very small grain of sand would, if moving with the velocity

of light, contain, in virtue of that motion, the equivalent of more heat

than could be produced by the combustion of a ton of the best coal. The

late Dr. W. E. Wilson showed that if an excessively minute percentage of

radium should be found to exist in the sun, it would completely account

for the sustentation of the solar heat, and the Hon. R. Strutt has shown

that the minute quantities of radium which he has proved to exist in

terrestrial rocks would enormously protract the earth’s cooling. These

discoveries have, in fact, completely changed the outlook on the problem

of the sun’s heat, and, though no doubt much has yet to be done before

the whole subject is cleared up, the great difficulty may be regarded as

vanquished. Thus, the discovery of radium, and the wonderful phenomena

associated therewith, has pointed out a possible escape from one of the

gravest difficulties in science.

The most notable fact which emerges from the modern study of the

structure of the heavens is the ever-increasing significance and

importance of the spiral nebulæ. The following pages will have failed in

their object if they have not succeeded in emphasising the fact that the

spiral nebula is, next to a fixed star itself, the most characteristic

type of object in the material universe. With every increase in the

power of the telescope, and with every development of the application of

photography to celestial portraiture, the importance of the spiral

structure in nebulæ becomes of ever-increasing interest.

But I revert to this subject here for the purpose of taking notice of a

suggestive paper by Mr. C. Easton in the “Astrophysical Journal,” Vol.

XII., No. 2, September, 1900, entitled “A New Theory of the Milky Way.”

This paper advances the striking view that the Milky Way is itself a

spiral nebula, and certainly the considerations adduced by Mr. Easton

seem to justify his remarkable conclusion.

It is first to be noticed that the Milky Way extends as an irregular

band completely round the heavens, and that it follows very nearly the

course of a great circle. The curious convolutions of the Milky Way, the

varying star densities of its different parts, would, as shown by Mr.

Easton, be completely accounted for if the Milky Way were a mighty

spiral. We view the ordinary celestial spirals from the outside at an

immense distance in space. We view the Milky Way from a position within

the circuit of the nebula. It has, however, been shown by Mr. Easton

that the centre of the Spiral Nebula is not exactly at the sun. The

centre of the Milky Way is near that superb region of the galaxy which

lies in Cygnus.

Thus, the significance of the spiral structure in the universe becomes

greatly enhanced. The spirals abound in every part of the heavens; they

are placed in every conceivable position and in every possible plane;

they have every range in size from comparatively small objects, whose

destiny is to evolve into a system like our solar system, up to

stupendous objects which include a myriad of such systems. There is now

the further interest that as the sun and the solar system are included

within the Milky Way, and as the Milky Way is a spiral, this earth of

ours is itself at this moment a constituent part of a great spiral.

Finally, I would say that, so far as I have been able to understand the

subject, it appears to me that every advance in our knowledge of the

heavens tends more and more to support the grand outlines of the Nebular

Theory as imagined by Kant and Laplace.

R. S. B.

_May 1, 1909._

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. —INTRODUCTION 1

II. —THE PROBLEM STATED 21

III. —THE FIRE-MIST 39

IV. —NEBULÆ—APPARENT AND REAL 52

V. —THE HEAT OF THE SUN 75

VI. —HOW THE SUN’S HEAT IS MAINTAINED 95

VII. —THE HISTORY OF THE SUN 112

VIII. —THE EARTH’S BEGINNING 122

IX. —EARTHQUAKES AND VOLCANOES 158

X. —SPIRAL AND PLANETARY NEBULÆ 191

XI. —THE UNERRING GUIDE 207

XII. —THE EVOLUTION OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM 246

XIII. —THE UNITY OF MATERIAL IN THE HEAVENS 261

AND THE EARTH

XIV. —THE FIRST CONCORD 294

XV. —THE SECOND CONCORD 308

XVI. —THE THIRD CONCORD 324

XVII. —OBJECTIONS TO THE NEBULAR THEORY 337

XVIII. —THE BEGINNING OF THE NEBULA 348

XIX. —CONCLUDING CHAPTER 361

APPENDICES 369

INDEX 382

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FIG. PAGE

An English Sunset tinged by Krakatoa _Frontispiece_

(colour)

1. Immanuel Kant (from an old print) 7

2. A Faint Diffused Nebulosity 17

3. The Crab Nebula 19

4. Jupiter 25

5. Nebulous Region and Star-cluster 33

6. The Great Nebula in Orion 41

7. The Dumb-bell Nebula 45

8. The Crossley Reflector 49

9. The Cluster in Hercules 53

10. Spectra of the Sun and Capella 62

11. Spectrum of Nebula in Orion and Spectrum 64

of White Star

12. Solar Spectra with Bright Lines and Dark 69

Lines during Eclipse

13. The Nebulæ in the Pleiades 71

14. The Sun 81

15. I. Spectrum of the Sun. II. Spectrum of 85

Arcturus

16. Brooks’ Comet and Meteor Trail 89

17. Argus and the surrounding Stars and 103

Nebulosity

18. Trifid Nebula in Sagittarius 105

19. To illustrate the History of the Sun 113

20. Solar Corona 117

21. The Great Comet of 1882 119

22. Special Thermometer for use in Deep 129

Borings

23. At the Bottom of the Great Bore 140

24. Three consecutive Shells of the Earth’s 145

Crust

25. Earthquake Routes from Japan to the Isle 171

of Wight

Showing Localities of Earthquakes 175

(colour)

26. Showing Coasts invaded by the Great 179

Sea-waves from Krakatoa

The Early Stage of the Eruption of 180

Krakatoa (colour)

27. Spread of the Air-wave from Krakatoa to 183

the Antipodes

28. The great Spiral Nebula 193

29. How to find the great Spiral Nebula 196

30. A group of Nebulæ 199

31. A Ray Nebula 201

32. Portion of the Milky Way 205

33. A Spiral Nebula seen Edgewise 211

34. A foreshortened Spiral 212

35. Edge-view of a Spiral boldly shown 213

36. To illustrate Moment of Momentum 223

37. Saturn 233

38. The Ring Nebula in Lyra 249

39. Lunar Craters: Hyginus and Albategnius 255

40. A remarkable Spiral 257

41. A clearly-cut Spiral 259

42. The H and K Lines in the Photographic 276

Solar Spectrum

43. Spectrum of Comet showing Carbon Lines 290

The Solar Spectrum (colour) 290

44. Spectrum of the Sun during Eclipse 291

45. A Spiral presented Edgewise 296

46. The Plane of a Planet’s Orbit 298

47. A Right Angle divided into Ten Parts 301

48. Illustration of the Second Concord 309

49. Orbits of the Earth, Eros and Mars 313

50. I. A Natural System. II. An Unnatural 318

System

51. An elongated irregular Nebula 329

52. Two-branched Spiral 345

53. Cluster with Stars of the 17th Magnitude 353

54. Spectrum of Nova Persei (1901) 359

55. The Apteryx: a Wingless Bird of New 365

Zealand

56. Skeleton of the Apteryx, showing 366

Rudimentary Wings

57. Spirals in other Departments of Nature: 367

Foraminifer

58. Ditto ditto Nautilus 367

59. To illustrate a Theorem in the 369

Attraction of Gravitation

60. First Law of Motion exemplifies Constant 375

Moment of Momentum

61. A useful Geometrical Proposition 376

62. Acceleration of Moment of Momentum 376

equals Moment of Force

63. Moment of Momentum unaltered by 380

Collision

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THE EARTH’S BEGINNING.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION.

The Earth’s Beginning—The Nebular Theory—Many Applications of the

Theory—The Founders of the Doctrine—Kant, Laplace, William Herschel:

Their Different Methods of Work—The Vastness of the

Problem—Voltaire’s Fable—The Oak-Tree—The Method of Studying the

Subject—Inadequacy of our Time Conceptions.

I TRY in these lectures to give some account of an exceptionally great

subject—a subject, I ought rather to say, of sublime magnificence. It

may, I believe, be affirmed without exaggeration that the theme which is

to occupy our attention represents the most daring height to which the

human intellect has ever ventured to soar in its efforts to understand

the great operations of Nature. The earth’s beginning relates to

phenomena of such magnitude and importance that the temporary concerns

which usually engage our thoughts must be forgotten in its presence. Our

personal affairs, the affairs of the nation, and of the empire—indeed,

of all nations and of all empires—nay, even all human affairs, past,

present, and to come, shrink into utter insignificance when we are to

consider the majestic subject of the evolution of that solar system of

which our earth forms a part. We shall obtain a glimpse of what that

evolution has been in the mighty chapter of the book of Nature on which

we are now to enter.

The nebular theory discloses the beginning of this earth itself. It

points out the marvellous process by which from original chaos the firm

globe on which we stand was gradually evolved. It shows how the

foundations of this solid earth have been laid, and how it is that we

have land to tread on and air to breathe. But the subject has a scope

far wider than merely in its relation to our earth. The nebular theory

accounts for the beginning of that great and glorious orb the sun, which

presides over the system of revolving planets, guides them in their

paths, illuminates them with its light, and stimulates the activities of

their inhabitants with its genial warmth. The nebular theory explains

how it comes about that the sun still continues in these latter days to

shine with the brilliance and warmth that it had throughout the past

ages of human history and the vastly greater periods of geological time.

Then, as another supreme achievement, it discloses the origin of the

planets which accompany the sun, and shows how they have come to run

their mighty courses; and it tells us how revolving satellites have been

associated with the planets. The nebular theory has, indeed, a

remarkable relation to all objects belonging to that wonderful scheme

which we call the solar system.

It should also be noticed that the nebular theory often brings facts of

the most diverse character into striking apposition. As it accounts for

the continued maintenance of the solar radiation, so it also accounts

for that beneficent rotation by which each continent, after the

enjoyment of a day under the invigorating rays of the sun, passes in due

alternation into the repose of night. The nebular theory is ready with

an explanation of the marvellous structure revealed in the rings of

Saturn, and it shows at the same time how the volcanoes of the moon

acquired their past phenomenal activity, and why, after ages of

activity, they have now at last become extinct. With equal versatility

the nebular theory will explain why a collier experiences increasing

heat as he descends the coalpit, and why the planet Jupiter is marked

with those belts which have so much interest for the astronomer. The

nebular theory offers an immediate explanation of the earthquake which

wrought such awful destruction at Lisbon, while it also points out the

cause of that healing warmth of the waters at Bath. Above all, the

nebular theory explains that peerless discovery of cosmical chemistry

which declares that those particular elements of which the sun is

composed are no other than the elements which form the earth beneath our

feet.

When a doctrine of such transcendent importance is proposed for our

acceptance, it is fitting that we should look, in the first instance, to

the source from which the doctrine has emanated. It would already have

made good its claim to most careful hearing, though not perhaps to

necessary acceptance, if it came to us bearing credentials which prove

it to be the outcome of the thought and research of one endowed with the

highest order of intellect. If the nebular theory had been propounded by

only a single great leader of thought, the sublimity of the subject with

which it deals would have compelled the attention of those who love to

study the book of Nature. If it had appeared that a second investigator,

also famous for the loftiest intellectual achievement, had given to the

nebular theory the sanction of his name, a very much stronger claim for

its consideration would at once have been established. If it should

further appear that yet a third philosopher, a man who was also an

intellectual giant, had been conducted to somewhat similar conclusions,

we should admit, I need hardly say, that the argument had been presented

with still further force. It may also be observed that there might even

be certain conditions in the work of the three philosophers which would

make for additional strength in the cause advocated; if it should be

found that each of the great men of science had arrived at the same

conclusion irrespective of the others, and, indeed, in total ignorance

of the line of thought which his illustrious compeers were pursuing,

this would, of course, be in itself a corroboration. If, finally, the

methods of research adopted by these investigators had been wholly

different, although converging to the establishment of the theory, then

even the most sceptical might be disposed to concede the startling claim

which the theory made upon his reason and his imagination.

All the conditions that I have assumed have been fulfilled in the

presentation of the nebular theory to the scientific world. It would not

be possible to point to three names more eminent in their respective

branches of knowledge than those of Kant, Laplace, and William Herschel.

Kant occupies a unique position by the profundity and breadth of his

philosophical studies; Laplace applied the great discoveries of Newton

to the investigation of the movements of the heavenly bodies, publishing

the results in his immortal work, _Mécanique Céleste_; Herschel has been

the greatest and the most original observer of the heavens since the

telescope was invented. It is not a little remarkable that the great

philosopher from his profound meditation, the great mathematician from a

life devoted to calculations about the laws of Nature, the great

observer from sounding the depths of the firmament, should each in the

pursuit of his own line of work have been led to believe that the grand

course of Nature is essentially expressed by the nebular theory. There

have been differences of detail in the three theories; indeed, there

have been differences in points which are by no means unimportant. This

was unavoidable in the case of workers along lines so distinct, and of a

subject where many of the elements were still unknown, as indeed many

are still. Even at the present day no man can give a complete account of

what has happened in the great evolution. But the monumental fact

remains that these three most sagacious men of science, whose lives were

devoted to the pursuit of knowledge, each approaching the subject from

his own direction, each pursuing his course in ignorance of what the

others were doing, were substantially led to the same result. The

progress of knowledge since the time when these great men lived has

confirmed, in ways which we shall endeavour to set forth, the sublime

doctrine to which their genius had conducted them.

Immanuel Kant, whose grandfather was a Scotsman, was born in 1724 at

Königsberg, where his life was spent as a professor in the University,

and where he died in 1804. In the announcement of the application of the

principle of evolution to the solar system, Laplace was preceded by this

great German philosopher. The profound thinker who expounded the famous

doctrine of time and space did not disdain to allow his attention to be

also occupied with things more material than the subtleties of

metaphysical investigation. As a natural philosopher Kant was much in

advance of his time. His speculations on questions relating to the

operations in progress in the material universe are in remarkable

conformity with what is now accepted as the result of modern

investigation. Kant outlined with a firmness inspired by genius that

nebular theory to which Laplace subsequently and independently gave a

more definite form, and which now bears his name.

Kant’s famous work with which we are now concerned appeared in 1755.[1]

In it he laid down the immortal principle of the nebular theory. The

greatness of this book is acknowledged by all who have read it, and

notwithstanding that the progress of knowledge has made it obvious that

many of the statements it contains must now receive modification, Kant’s

work contains the essential principle affirming that the earth, the sun,

the planets, and all the bodies now forming the solar system did really

originate from a vast contracting nebula. In later years Kant’s

attention was diverted from these physical questions to that profound

system of philosophy with which his name is chiefly associated. The

nebular theory is therefore to be regarded as incidental to Kant’s great

lifework rather than as forming a very large and important part of it.

Footnote 1:

We are now fortunately able to refer the English reader to the work of

Professor W. Hastie, D.D., entitled “Kant’s Cosmogony,” Glasgow, 1900.

Kant’s most interesting career is charmingly described in De Quincey’s

“Last Days of Immanuel Kant.”

[Illustration: IMMANUEL KANT.

(_From an old Print._)]

At the close of the last century, while France was in the throes of the

Revolution, a school of French mathematicians was engaged in the

accomplishment of a task which marked an epoch in the history of human

thought. Foremost among the mathematicians who devoted their energies to

the discussion of the great problems of the universe was the illustrious

Laplace. As a personal friend of Napoleon, Laplace received marked

distinction from the Emperor, who was himself enough of a mathematician

to be able to estimate at their true value the magnificent results to

which Laplace was conducted.

It was at the commencement of Kant’s career, and before his great

lifework in metaphysics was undertaken, that he was led to his nebular

theory of the solar system. In the case of Laplace, on the other hand,

the nebular theory was not advanced until the close of the great work of

his life. The _Mécanique Céleste_ had been written, and the fame of its

author had been established for all time; and then in a few pages of a

subsequent volume, called the _Système du Monde_, he laid down his

famous nebular theory. In that small space he gave a wonderful outline

of the history of the solar system. He had not read that history in any

books or manuscripts; he had not learned it from any ancient

inscriptions; he had taken it direct from the great book of Nature.

Influenced by the caution so characteristic of one whose life had been

devoted entirely to the pursuit of the most accurate of all the

sciences, Laplace accompanied his announcement of the nebular theory

with becoming words of warning. The great philosopher pointed out that

there are two methods of discovering the truths of astronomy. Some

truths may be discovered by observing the heavenly bodies with

telescopes, by measuring with every care their dimensions and their

positions, and by following their movements with assiduous watchfulness.

But there is another totally different method which has enabled many

remarkable discoveries to be made in astronomy; for discoveries may be

made by mathematical calculations which have as their basis the

numerical facts obtained by actual observation. This mathematical method

often yields results far more profound than any which can be obtained by

the astronomer’s telescope. The pen of the mathematician is indeed an

instrument which sometimes anticipates revelations that are subsequently

confirmed by actual observation. It is an instrument which frequently

performs the highly useful task of checking the deductions that might

too hastily be drawn from telescopic observations. It is an instrument

the scope of whose discoveries embraces regions immeasurably beyond the

reach of the greatest telescope. The pen of the mathematician can give

us information as to events which took place long before telescopes came

into existence—nay, even unnumbered ages prior to the advent of man on

this earth.

Laplace was careful to say that the nebular theory which he sketched

must necessarily be judged by a standard different from that which we

apply to astronomical truths revealed by telescopic observation or

ascertained by actual calculation. The nebular theory, said the great

French mathematician, has to be received with caution, inasmuch as from

the nature of the case it cannot be verified by observation, nor does it

admit of proof possessing mathematical certainty.

A large part of these lectures will be devoted to the evidence bearing

upon this famous doctrine. Let it suffice here to remark that the

quantity of evidence now available is vastly greater than it was a

hundred years ago, and furthermore, that there are lines of evidence

which can now be followed which were wholly undreamt of in the days of

Kant and Laplace. The particular canons laid down by Laplace, to which

we have just referred, are perhaps not regarded as so absolutely binding

in modern days. If we were to reject belief in everything which cannot

be proved either by the testimony of actual eye-witnesses or by strict

mathematical deductions, it would, I fear, fare badly with not a few

great departments of modern science. It will not be necessary to do more

at present than just to mention, in illustration of this, the great

doctrine of the evolution of life, which accounts for the existing races

of plants and animals, including even man himself. I need hardly say

that the Darwinian theory, which claims that man has come by lineal

descent from animals of a lower type, admits of no proof by mathematics;

it receives assuredly no direct testimony from eye witnesses; and yet

the fact that man has so descended is, I suppose, now almost universally

admitted.

In the case of the great German philosopher, as well as in the case of

the great French mathematician, the enunciation and the promulgation of

their nebular theories were merely incidental to the important

scientific undertakings with which their respective lives were mainly

occupied. The relation of the nebular theory to the main lifework of the

third philosopher I have named, has been somewhat different. When

William Herschel constructed the telescopes with which, in conjunction

with his illustrious sister, he conducted his long night-watches, he

discovered thousands of new nebulæ; he may, in fact, be said to have

created nebular astronomy as we now know it. Ever meditating on the

objects which his telescopes brought to light, ever striving to sound

the mysteries of the universe, Herschel perceived that between a nebula

which was merely a diffused stain of light on the sky, and an object

which was hardly distinguishable from a star with a slight haze around

it, every intermediate grade could be found. In this way he was led to

the splendid discovery which announced the gradual transformation of

nebulæ into stars. We have already noted how the profound mathematician

was conducted to a view of the origin of the solar system which was

substantially identical with that which had been arrived at by the

consummate metaphysician. The interest is greatly increased when we find

that similar conclusions were drawn independently from the telescopic

work of the most diligent and most famous astronomical observer who has

ever lived. Not from abstract speculation like Kant, not from

mathematical suggestion like Laplace, but from accurate and laborious

study of the heavens was the great William Herschel led to the

conception of the nebular theory of evolution.

That three different men of science, approaching the study of perhaps

the greatest problem which Nature offers us from points of view so

fundamentally different, should have been led substantially to the same

result, is a remarkable incident in the history of knowledge. Surely the

theory introduced under such auspices and sustained by such a weight of

testimony has the very strongest claim on our attention and respect.

In the discussion on which we are about to enter in these lectures we

must often be prepared to make a special effort of the imagination to

help us to realise how greatly the scale of the operations on which the

attention is fixed transcends that of the phenomena with which our

ordinary affairs are concerned. Our eyes can explore a region of space

which, however vast, must still be only infinitesimal in comparison with

the extent of space itself. Notwithstanding all that telescopes can do

for us, our knowledge of the universe must be necessarily restricted to

a mere speck in space, a speck which bears to the whole of space a ratio

less—we might perhaps say infinitely less—than that which the area of a

single daisy bears to the area of the continent where that daisy blooms.

But we need not repine at this limitation; a whole life devoted to the

study of a daisy would not be long enough to explore all the mysteries

of its life. In like manner the duration of the human race would not be

long enough to explore adequately even that small part of space which is

submitted for our examination.

But it is not merely the necessary limits of our senses which restrict

our opportunities for the study of the great phenomena of the universe.

Man’s life is too short for the purpose. That our days are but a span is

the commonplace of the preacher. But it is a commonplace specially

brought home to us in the study of the nebular theory. A man of

fourscore will allude to his life as a long one, and no doubt it may be

considered long in relation to the ordinary affairs of our abode on

earth; but what is a period of eighty years in the history of the

formation of a solar system in the great laboratory of the universe?

Such a period then seems to be but a trifle—it is nothing. Eighty years

may be long enough to witness the growth of children and grandchildren;

but it is too short for a single heartbeat in the great life of Nature.

Even the longest lifetime is far too brief to witness a perceptible

advance in the grand transformation. The periods of time demanded in the

great evolution shadowed forth by the nebular theory utterly transcend

our ordinary notions of chronology. The dates at which supreme events

occurred in the celestial evolution are immeasurably more remote than

any other dates which we are ever called upon to consider in other

departments of science. The time of the story on which we are to be

engaged is earlier, far earlier, than any date we have ever learned at

school, or have ever forgotten since. The incidents of that period took

place long before any date was written in figures—earlier than any of

those very ancient dates which the geologists indicate not by figures

indeed, but by creatures whose remains imbedded in the rocks suffice to

give a character to the period referred to. The geologist will specify

one epoch as that in which the fossilized bone of some huge extinct

reptile was part of a living animal; he may specify another by the

statement that the shell of some beautiful ammonite was then inhabited

by a living form which swam in the warm primæval seas. The date of our

story has at least this much certainty: that it is prior—immeasurably

prior—to the time when that marvellous thing which we call life first

came into being.

Voltaire has an instructive fable which I cannot resist repeating. It

will serve, at all events, to bring before us the way in which the lapse

of time ought to be regarded by one who desires to view the great

operations of Nature in their proper proportions. He tells how an

inhabitant of the star Sirius went forth on a voyage of exploration

through the remote depths of space. In the course of his travels he

visited many other worlds, and at length reached Saturn, that majestic

orb, which revolved upon the frontier of the solar system, as then

known. Alighting on the ringed globe for rest and investigation, the

Sirian wanderer, in quest of knowledge, was successful in obtaining an

interview with a stately inhabitant of Saturn who enjoyed the reputation

of exceptional learning and wisdom. The Sirian hoped to have some

improving conversation with this sage who dwelt on a globe so utterly

unlike his own, and who had such opportunities of studying the majestic

processes of Nature in remote parts of the universe. He thought perhaps

they might be able to compare instructive notes about the constitution

of the suns and systems in their respective neighbourhoods. The visitor

accordingly prattled away gaily. He opened all his little store of

knowledge about the Milky Way, about the Great Bear, and about the great

Nebula in Orion; and then pausing, he asked what the Saturnian had to

communicate in reply. But the philosopher remained silent. Eagerly

pressed to make some response, the grave student who dwelt on the

frontier globe at last said in effect: “Sirian, I can tell you but

little of Nature. I can tell you indeed nothing that is really worthy of

the great theme which Nature proposes; for the grand operations of

Nature are very slow; they are so slow that the great transformations in

progress around us would have to be watched for a very long time before

they could be properly understood. To observe Nature so as to perceive

what is really happening, it would be necessary to have a long life; but

the lives of the inhabitants of Saturn are not long; none of us ever

lives more than fifteen thousand years.”

Change is the order of Nature. Many changes no doubt take place rapidly,

but the great changes by which the system has been wrought into its

present form, those profound changes which have produced results of the

greatest magnificence in celestial architecture are extremely slow. We

should make a huge mistake if we imagined that changes—even immense

changes—are not in progress, merely because our brief day is too short a

period wherein to perceive them.

On the village green stands an oak-tree, a veteran which some say dates

from the time of William the Conqueror, but which all agree must

certainly have been a magnificent piece of timber in the days of Queen

Elizabeth. The children play under that tree just as their parents and

their grandparents did before them. A year, a few years, even a

lifetime, may show no appreciable changes in a tree of such age and

stature. Its girth does not perceptibly increase in such a period. But

suppose that a butterfly whose life lasts but a day or two were to pass

his little span in and about this venerable oak. He would not be able to

perceive any changes in the tree during the insignificant period over

which his little life extended. Not alone the mighty trunk and the

branches, but even the very foliage itself would seem essentially the

same in the minutes of the butterfly’s extreme old age as they did in

the time of his life’s meridian or at the earliest moment of his youth.

To the observations of a spectator who viewed it under such ephemeral

conditions the oak-tree would appear steadfast, and might incautiously

be deemed eternal. If the butterfly could reflect on the subject, he

might perhaps argue that there could not be any change in progress in

the oak-tree, because although he had observed it carefully all his life

he could not detect any certain alteration. He might therefore not

improbably draw the preposterous conclusion that the oak-tree must

always have been just as large and just as green as he had invariably

known it; and he might also infer that just as the oak-tree is now, so

will it remain for all time.

[Illustration: Fig. 2.—A FAINT DIFFUSED NEBULOSITY (n.g.c. 1499; in

Perseus).

(_Photographed by Dr. Isaac Roberts, F.R.S._)]

In our study of the heavens we must strive to avoid inferences so

utterly fallacious as these which I have here tried to illustrate. Let

it be granted that to our superficial view the sun and the moon, the

stars and the constellations present features which appear to us as

eternal as the bole of the oak seemed to the butterfly. But though the

sun may seem to us always of the same size and always of the same

lustre, it would be quite wrong to infer that the lustre and size of the

sun are in truth unchanging. The sun is no more unchanging than the

oak-tree is eternal. The sun and the earth, no less than the other

bodies of the universe, are in process of a transformation no less

astonishing than that wonderful transformation which in the course of

centuries develops an acorn into the giant of the forest. We could not

indeed with propriety apply to the great transformation of the sun the

particular word growth; the character of the solar transformation cannot

be so described. The oak-tree, of course, enlarges with its years, while

the sun, on the other hand, is becoming smaller. The resemblance between

the sun and the oak-tree extends no further than that a transformation

is taking place in each. The rate at which each transformation is

effected is but slow; the growth of the oak is too slow to be perceived

in a day or two; the contraction of the sun is too slow to be

appreciable within the centuries of human history.

Whatever the butterfly’s observation might have suggested with regard to

the eternity of the oak, we know there was a time when that oak-tree was

not, and we know that a time will come when that oak-tree will no longer

be. In like manner we know there was a time when the solar system was

utterly different from the solar system as we see it now; and we know

that a time will come when the solar system will be utterly different

from that which we see at present. The mightiest changes are most

certainly in progress around us. We must not deem them non-existent,

merely because they elude our scrutiny, for our senses may not be quick

enough to perceive the small extent of some of these changes within our

limited period of observation. The intellect in such a case confers on

man a power of surveying Nature with a penetration immeasurably beyond

that afforded by his organs of sense.

[Illustration: Fig. 3.—THE CRAB NEBULA (n.g.c. 1952; in Taurus).

(_Photographed by Dr. Isaac Roberts, F.R.S_)]

That the great oak-tree which has lived for centuries sprang from an

acorn no one can doubt; but what is the evidence on which we believe

this to have been the origin of a veteran of the forest when history and

tradition are both silent? In the absence of authentic documents to

trace the growth of that oak-tree from the beginning, how do we know

that it sprouted from an acorn? The only reason we have for believing

that the oak-tree has gone through this remarkable development is

deduced from the observation of other oak-trees. We know the acorn that

has just sprouted; we know the young sapling as thick as a walking

stick; we know the vigorous young tree as stout as a man’s arm or as his

body; we know the tree when it first approaches the dignity of being

called timber; we can therefore observe different trees grade by grade

in a continuous succession from the acorn to the monarch of five

centuries. No one doubts for a moment that the growth as witnessed in

the stages exhibited by several different trees, gives a substantially

accurate picture of the development of any individual tree. Such is the

nature of one of the arguments which we apply to the great problem

before us. We are to study what the solar system has been in the course

of its history by the stages which we witness at the present moment in

the evolution of other systems throughout the universe. We cannot indeed

read the history in time, but we can read it in space.

The mighty transformation through which the solar system has passed, and

is even now at this moment passing, cannot be actually beheld by us poor

creatures of a day. It might perhaps be surveyed by beings whose pulses

counted centuries, as our pulses count seconds, by beings whose minutes

lasted longer than the dynasties of human history, by beings to whom a

year was comparable with the period since the earth was young, and since

life began to move in the waters.

May I, with all reverence, try to attune our thoughts to the time

conceptions required in this mighty theme by quoting those noble lines

of the hymn—

“A thousand ages in Thy sight

Are like an evening gone,

Short as the watch that ends the night,

Before the rising sun.”

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The Earth's Beginning · 第 1 / 19 章