as they advance the breath of universal heat and light and life; then by impact, compression, and radiation, they concentrate and re-distribute its vitalizing power; and after its work is done, expire it in the broad wake of their retreat, leaving a track of cool exhausted ether—the ash-pits of the solar furnaces—to reabsorb the general radiations, and thus maintain the eternal round of life.
But ere this, a great difficulty has probably presented itself to the mind of the reader. He will refer to the calculations that have been made in order to determine the actual temperature of the solar surface and the intensity of its luminosity. Both of these are vastly in excess of those obtained in our laboratory experiments by the combustion of the elements of water. Even taking into consideration the dissociated carbonic acid whose elements should be burning in the photosphere with those of water, and adding to these the volatile metals of the solar nucleus whose dissociated vapors must, under the circumstances stated, be commingled with those of the solar atmosphere, and therefore contribute to the luminosity by their combustion, still by burning here on the earth a jet of such mixed gases and vapors we should not obtain any approach to either the luminosity or the temperature which is usually attributed to the sun.
I have made a very few simple experiments, the results of which remove these difficulties. They were conducted with the assistance of Mr. Jonathan Wilkinson, the official gas examiner to the Sheffield Corporation, using his photometric and gas-measuring apparatus. We first determined the amount of light radiated by a single fish-tail gas-burner consuming a measured quantity of gas per hour. We found when another was placed behind this, so that all the light of the second had to pass through the first, that the light of the two (measured by the illuminating intensity of their radiations upon a screen just as the solar luminosity has been measured) was just double that of one flame, three flames (still presenting to the photometric screen only the surface of one) gave it three times the amount of illumination, and so on with any number of flames we were able to test. Mr. Wilkinson has since arranged 100 flames on the same, principle, i.e., so that the 99 hinder flames shall all radiate through the one presented to the screen, thus affording the same surface as a single flame, but having 100 times its thickness or depth, and he finds that the law indicated by our first experiments is fully verified; that the 100 flames thus arranged illuminate the screen 100 times as intensely as the single flame. Other modifications of these experiments, described in Chapter vii. of “The Fuel of the Sun,” establish the principle that a common hydrocarbon gas flame is transparent to its own radiations, or, in other words, that the amount of light radiated from such a flame, and its apparent intensity of luminosity, is proportionate to its thickness; therefore the luminosity of the sun may be produced by a photosphere having no greater intrinsic brilliancy than the flame of a tallow candle, provided the flame is of sufficient depth or thickness. I see good reasons for inferring that its intrinsic brilliancy is less than that of a candle—somewhere between that and a Bunsen’s burner.
A similar series of experiments upon the radiation of the heat of flames through each other, indicated similar results; but my apparatus for these experiments was not so delicate and reliable as in the experiments on light, and, therefore, I cannot so decidedly affirm the absolute diathermancy of flame to its own radiations. Within the limits of error of these experiments, I found that with the same radiant surface presented to the thermometer, every addition to the thickness of the flame produced a proportionate increase of radiation.
This important law, though hitherto unnoticed by philosophers, is practically understood and acted upon by workmen who are engaged in furnace operations. Present space will not permit me to illustrate this by examples, but in passing I may mention the “mill furnaces,” where armor-plates and other large masses of iron are raised to a welding temperature by radiant heat, and the ordinary puddling furnace, where iron is melted by radiant heat. In both of these special arrangements are made to obtain a “body” or thickness of radiant flame, while intensity of combustion is neglected and even carefully avoided.
According to this there are two factors engaged in producing the radiant effect from a given surface, intensity and quantity, i.e., brilliancy and thickness in the case of light, and temperature and thickness in the case of heat. In the Bude light, for example, consisting of concentric rings of coal-gas, we have small intensity with great quantity, in the lime-light we have a mere surface of great brilliancy but no thickness. If I am right, the surface of the moon maybe brighter than the luminous surface of the sun, the peculiarities of moonlight depending upon intensity, those of sunlight upon quantity of light.
The flame that roars from the mouth of a Bessemer converter has but small intrinsic brilliancy, far less than that of an ordinary gas flame, as may be seen by observing the thin waifs that sometimes project beyond the body of the flame. Nevertheless, its radiations are so effective that it is a painfully dazzling object even in the midst of sunny daylight; but then we have here not a hollow flame fed only by outside oxygen, but a solid body of flame several feet in thickness. Even the pallid carbonic acid flame which accompanies the pouring of the spiegeleisen has marvellous illuminating power.
The reader will now be able to understand my explanation of the sun-spots, of their nucleus, umbra, and penumbra. From what I have stated respecting the planetary disturbances or the solar rotation, the photosphere should present all the appearances due to the movements of a fiery ocean, raging and seething in the maddest conceivable fury of perpetual tempest. If the surface of a river flowing peacefully between its banks is perforated with conical eddies whenever it meets with a projecting rock or obstacle, or other agency which disturbs the regularity of its course, what must be the magnitude of the eddies in this ocean of flame and heated gases, when stirred to the lowest depths of its vast profundity by the irregular reeling of the solar nucleus within? Obviously, nothing less than the sunspots; those mighty maelströms into which a world might be dropped like a pea into an egg-cup.
When the photosphere or shell of combining gases is thus ripped open, the telescopic observer looks down the vortex, which, if deep enough, reveals to him the inner regions of dissociated gases and vapors. But these have the opposite property to that which I have shown to belong to flame; they are opaque to their own special radiations, while the flame is transparent to the light of the inner portions of itself. Thus, the dissociated interior of the solar envelope, though absolutely white-hot, will be comparatively dark (direct experiment has proved that the darkness of the spots is only relative).
The sides of the vortex funnel will consist of a mixture of dissociated gases, flaming gases, and combined gases, and will thus present various thicknesses of flame, and thereby display the various shades of the penumbra. Space will not permit me here to follow up the details of this subject, as I have done in the original work, where it is shown that if the telescope had not yet been invented, all the telescopic details of spot phenomena might have been described à priori as necessary consequences of the constitution I have above ascribed to the sun.
Not merely the great spot phenomena, but all the minor irregularities of the photosphere follow with similarly demonstrable necessity. Thus the many interfering solar tides must throw up great waves, literally mountainous in their magnitude, the summits and ridges of which, being raised into higher regions of the absorbing vaporous atmosphere that envelopes the photosphere, will radiate more freely, its dissociated matter will combine more abundantly, and will thicken the photosphere immediately below; this thicker flame will be more luminous than the normal surface, and thus produce the phenomena of the faculæ.
Besides these great ground-swells of the flaming ocean of the photosphere, there must be lesser billows, and ripples upon these, and mountain tongues of flame all over the surface. The crests of these waves, and the summits of these flame-alps, presenting to the terrestrial observer a greater depth of flaming matter, must be brighter than the hollows and valleys between; and their splendor must be further increased by the fact, that such upper ridges and summits are less deeply immersed in the outer ocean of absorbing vapors, which limits the radiation of the light as well as the heat of the photosphere. The effect of looking upon the surface of such a wild fury of troubled flame, with
