INTRODUCTIONTHE Universe is limited by the properties of light. Until half a century ago it was strictly true that we depended upon our eyes for all our knowledge of the universe, which extended no further than we could see. Even the invention of the telescope did not disturb this proposition, but it is otherwise with the invention of the photographic plate. It is now conceivable that a blind man, by taking photographs and rendering their records in some way decipherable by his fingers, could investigate the universe; but still it would remain true, that all his knowledge of anything outside the earth would be derived from the use of light and would therefore be limited by its properties. On this little earth there is, indeed, a tiny corner of the universe accessible to other senses: but feeling and taste act only at those minute distances which separate particles of matter when "in contact:" smell ranges over, at the utmost, a mile or two; and the greatest distance which sound is ever known to have travelled (when Krakatoa exploded in 1883) is but a few thousand miles—a mere fraction of the earth's girdle. The scale of phenomena manifested through agencies other than light is so small that we are unlikely to reach any noteworthy precision by their study.Few people who are not astronomers have spent much thought on the limitations introduced by the news agency to which we are so profoundlyindebted. Light comes speedily but has far to travel, and some of the news is thousands of years old before we get it. Hence our universe is not co-existent: the part close around us belongs to the peaceful present, but the nearest star is still in the midst of the late War, for our news of him is three years old; other stars are Elizabethan, others belong to the time of the Pharaohs; and we have alongside our modern civilization yet others of prehistoric date. The electric telegraph has accustomed us to a world in which the news is approximately of even date: but our forefathers must have been better able, from their daily experience of getting news many months old, to realize the unequal age of the universe we know. Nowadays the inequality is almost entirely the concern of the astronomer, and even he often neglects or forgets it. But when fundamental issues are at stake, the time taken by the messenger is an essential part of the discussion, and we must be careful to take account of it, with the utmost precision.Our knowledge that light had a finite velocity followed on the invention of the telescope and the discovery of Jupiter's satellites: the news of their eclipses came late at times and these times were identified as those when Jupiter was unusually far away from us. But the full consequences of the discovery were not realized at first. One such consequence is that the stars are not seen in their true places, that is in the places which they truly held when the light left them (for what may have happened to them since we do not know at all—they may have gone out or exploded). Our earth is only moving slowly compared with the great haste of light: but still she is moving, and consequently there is "aberration"—a displacement due to the ratio ofthe two velocities, easy enough to recognize now, but so difficult to apprehend for the first time that Bradley spent two years in worrying over the conundrum presented by his observations before he thought of the solution. It came to him unexpectedly, as often happens in such cases. In his own words—"at last when he despaired of being able to account for the phenomena which he had observed, a satisfactory explanation of them occurred to him all at once when he was not in search of it." He accompanied a pleasure party in a sail upon the river Thames. The boat in which they were was provided with a mast which had a vane at the top of it. It blew a moderate wind, and the party sailed up and down the river for a considerable time. Dr. Bradley remarked that every time the boat put about, the vane at the top of the boat's mast shifted a little, as if there had been a slight change in the direction of the wind. The sailors told him that this was due to the change in the boat, not the wind: and at once the solution of his problem was suggested. The earth running hither and thither round the sun resembles the boat sailing up and down the river: and the apparent changes of wind correspond to the apparent changes in direction of the light of a star. But now comes a point of detail—does the vane itself affect the wind just round it? And, similarly, does the earth itself by its movement affect the ether just round it, or the apparent direction of the light waves? This question suggested the famous Michelson and Morley experiment (Phil. Mag., Dec. 1887). It is curious to think that in the little corner of the universe represented by the space available in a laboratory an experiment should be possible which alters our whole conceptions of what happens in the profoundest depths of space known tous, but so it is. The laboratory experiment of Michelson and Morley was the first step in the great advance recently made. It discredited the existence of the virtual stream of ether which is the natural antithesis to the earth's actual motion. It was, indeed, open to question whether restrictions of a laboratory might not be responsible for the result: for the ether stream might exist, but the laboratory in which it was hoped to detect it might be in a sheltered eddy. When bodies move through the air, they encounter an apparent stream of opposing air, as all motorists know: but by using a glass screen shelter from the stream can be found. And even without such special screening, there may be shelter. When a pendulum is set swinging in ordinary air, it is found from experiments on clocks that it carries a certain amount of air along with it in its movement, although the portion carried probably clings closely to the surface of the pendulum. A very small insect placed in the region might be unable to detect the streaming of the air further out. In a similar way it seemed possible that as the earth moved through the ether such tiny insects as the physicists in their laboratories might be in a part of the ether carried along with the earth, in which they could not detect the streaming outside. But another laboratory experiment, this time by Sir Oliver Lodge, discredited this explanation, and it was then suggested as an alternative that distances were automatically altered by movement.It may be well to explain briefly the significance of this alternative. The Michelson-Morley experiment depended on the difference between travelling up and down stream, and across it. To use a few figures may be the quickest way of making the point clear. Suppose a very wide, perfectly smooth stream running at 3 miles an hour, and that oarsmenare to start from afixedpointin midstream, row out in any direction to a distance of 4 miles from, and back again to the starting-point. Which is the best direction to choose? We shall probably all agree that it will be either directly up and down stream, or directly across it, and we may confine attention to these two directions. First suppose an oarsmanstarts straight across stream. To keep straight he must set his boat at an angle to the stream. If he reaches his 4 mile limit in an hour, the stream has been virtually carrying him down 3 miles in a direction at right angles to his course: and the well-known relation between the sides of a right-angled triangle tells us that he has effectively pulled 5 miles in the hour. It will take him similarly an hour to come back, and the total journey will involve an effective pull of 10 miles.Now suppose another oarsman,, of equal skill elects to row up stream. In two hours he could pull 10 miles if there were no stream; but since meantime the stream has pulled him back 6 miles by "direct action" he will have only just reached the 4 mile limit from the start, and has still his return journey to go. No doubt he will accomplish this pretty quickly with the stream to help him, but his antagonist has already got home before he begins the return. We might have let him do his quick journey down stream first, but it is easy to see that this would gain him no ultimate advantage.Michelson and Morley sent two rays of light on two journeys similar to those of the oarsmenand. The stream was the supposed stream of ether from east to west which should result from the earth's movement of rotation from west to east. They confidently expected the return ofbefore that of, and were quite taken aback to find thetwo reaching the goal together. In the aquatic analogy of which we have made use, it would no doubt be suspected thatwas really the faster oar, which might be tested by interchanging the courses; but there are no known differences in the velocity of light which would allow of a parallel explanation. There was, however, the possibility that the distances had been marked wrongly, and this was tested by interchanging them, without altering the "dead-heat."Now there are several alternative explanations of this result. One is that the ether does not itself exist, and therefore there is no stream of it, actual or apparent; and it is to this sweeping conclusion that modern reasoning, following recent experiments and observations, is tending. The possibility of saving the ether by endowing it with four dimensions instead of three is scarcely calculated to satisfy those who believed (until recently) that we knew more about the ether than about matter itself. They saved the ether for a time by an automatic shortening of all bodies in the direction of their movement, which explained the dead-heat puzzle. With the velocities used above, the goal attained bymust be automatically movedof a mile nearer the starting-point, so thatonly rowsmiles out and back instead of 4 miles. So gross a piece of cheating would enableto make his dead-heat, but could scarcely escape detection. The shortening of the course required in the case of light is very minute indeed, because the velocities of the heavenly bodies are so small compared with that of light. If they could be multiplied a thousand times we might see some curious things, but we have no actual experience to guide a forecast.It is a great triumph for Pure Mathematics that it should have devised aforecast for us in its own peculiar way. Starting from axioms or postulates, Einstein, by sheer mathematical skill, making full use of the beautiful theoretical apparatus inherited from his predecessors, pointed ultimately to three observational tests, three things which must happen if the axioms and postulates were well founded. One of the tests—the movement of the perihelion of Mercury's orbit—had already been made and was awaiting explanation as a standing puzzle. Another—a displacement of lines in the spectrum of the sun—is still being made, the issue being not yet clear.The third suggestion was that the rays of light from a star would be bent on passing near the sun by a particular amount, and this test has just provided a sensational triumph for Einstein. The application was particularly interesting because it was not known which of at least three results might be attained. If light were composed of material particles as Newton suggested, then in passing the sun they would suffer a natural deflection (the use of the adjective is an almost automatic consequence of modes of thought which we must now abandon) which we may call. On Einstein's theory the deflection would be just twice this amount,. But it was thought quite possible that the result might be neithernorbut zero, and Professor Eddington remarked before setting out on the recent expedition that a zero result, however disappointing immediately, might ultimately turn out the most fruitful of all. That was less than a year ago. Perhaps a few dates are worth remembering. Einstein's theory was fully developed and stated in November, 1915, but news of it did not reach England (owing to the War) for some months. In 1917 the Astronomer Royal pointed out the special suitability of the Total Solar Eclipse of May, 1919,as an occasion for testing Einstein's Theory. Preparations for two Expeditions were commenced—Mr. Hinks described the geographical conditions on the central line in November, 1917—but could not be fully in earnest until the Armistice of November, 1918. In November, 1919, the entirely satisfactory outcome was announced to the Royal Society and characterized by the President as necessitating a veritable revolution in scientific thought.But when Mr. Brose brought me his translation of the pamphlet in the spring of 1919, the issue was still in doubt. He had become deeply interested in the new theory while interned in Germany as a civilian prisoner and had there made this translation. I encouraged him to publish it and opened negotiations to that end, but it was not until we enlisted the sympathy of Professor Eddington (on his return from the Expedition) and approached the Cambridge Press that a feasible plan of publication was found. Professor Eddington would have been a far more appropriate introducer; and it is only in deference to his own express wish that I have ventured to take up the pen that he would have used to much better purpose. One advantage I reap from the decision: I can express the thanks of Mr. Brose and myself to him for his practical help, and perhaps I may add those of a far wider circle for his own able expositions of an intricate theory, which have done so much to make it known in England.H. H. TURNERUNIVERSITY OBSERVATORY,OXFORD.November30, 1919
THE Universe is limited by the properties of light. Until half a century ago it was strictly true that we depended upon our eyes for all our knowledge of the universe, which extended no further than we could see. Even the invention of the telescope did not disturb this proposition, but it is otherwise with the invention of the photographic plate. It is now conceivable that a blind man, by taking photographs and rendering their records in some way decipherable by his fingers, could investigate the universe; but still it would remain true, that all his knowledge of anything outside the earth would be derived from the use of light and would therefore be limited by its properties. On this little earth there is, indeed, a tiny corner of the universe accessible to other senses: but feeling and taste act only at those minute distances which separate particles of matter when "in contact:" smell ranges over, at the utmost, a mile or two; and the greatest distance which sound is ever known to have travelled (when Krakatoa exploded in 1883) is but a few thousand miles—a mere fraction of the earth's girdle. The scale of phenomena manifested through agencies other than light is so small that we are unlikely to reach any noteworthy precision by their study.
Few people who are not astronomers have spent much thought on the limitations introduced by the news agency to which we are so profoundlyindebted. Light comes speedily but has far to travel, and some of the news is thousands of years old before we get it. Hence our universe is not co-existent: the part close around us belongs to the peaceful present, but the nearest star is still in the midst of the late War, for our news of him is three years old; other stars are Elizabethan, others belong to the time of the Pharaohs; and we have alongside our modern civilization yet others of prehistoric date. The electric telegraph has accustomed us to a world in which the news is approximately of even date: but our forefathers must have been better able, from their daily experience of getting news many months old, to realize the unequal age of the universe we know. Nowadays the inequality is almost entirely the concern of the astronomer, and even he often neglects or forgets it. But when fundamental issues are at stake, the time taken by the messenger is an essential part of the discussion, and we must be careful to take account of it, with the utmost precision.
Our knowledge that light had a finite velocity followed on the invention of the telescope and the discovery of Jupiter's satellites: the news of their eclipses came late at times and these times were identified as those when Jupiter was unusually far away from us. But the full consequences of the discovery were not realized at first. One such consequence is that the stars are not seen in their true places, that is in the places which they truly held when the light left them (for what may have happened to them since we do not know at all—they may have gone out or exploded). Our earth is only moving slowly compared with the great haste of light: but still she is moving, and consequently there is "aberration"—a displacement due to the ratio ofthe two velocities, easy enough to recognize now, but so difficult to apprehend for the first time that Bradley spent two years in worrying over the conundrum presented by his observations before he thought of the solution. It came to him unexpectedly, as often happens in such cases. In his own words—"at last when he despaired of being able to account for the phenomena which he had observed, a satisfactory explanation of them occurred to him all at once when he was not in search of it." He accompanied a pleasure party in a sail upon the river Thames. The boat in which they were was provided with a mast which had a vane at the top of it. It blew a moderate wind, and the party sailed up and down the river for a considerable time. Dr. Bradley remarked that every time the boat put about, the vane at the top of the boat's mast shifted a little, as if there had been a slight change in the direction of the wind. The sailors told him that this was due to the change in the boat, not the wind: and at once the solution of his problem was suggested. The earth running hither and thither round the sun resembles the boat sailing up and down the river: and the apparent changes of wind correspond to the apparent changes in direction of the light of a star. But now comes a point of detail—does the vane itself affect the wind just round it? And, similarly, does the earth itself by its movement affect the ether just round it, or the apparent direction of the light waves? This question suggested the famous Michelson and Morley experiment (Phil. Mag., Dec. 1887). It is curious to think that in the little corner of the universe represented by the space available in a laboratory an experiment should be possible which alters our whole conceptions of what happens in the profoundest depths of space known tous, but so it is. The laboratory experiment of Michelson and Morley was the first step in the great advance recently made. It discredited the existence of the virtual stream of ether which is the natural antithesis to the earth's actual motion. It was, indeed, open to question whether restrictions of a laboratory might not be responsible for the result: for the ether stream might exist, but the laboratory in which it was hoped to detect it might be in a sheltered eddy. When bodies move through the air, they encounter an apparent stream of opposing air, as all motorists know: but by using a glass screen shelter from the stream can be found. And even without such special screening, there may be shelter. When a pendulum is set swinging in ordinary air, it is found from experiments on clocks that it carries a certain amount of air along with it in its movement, although the portion carried probably clings closely to the surface of the pendulum. A very small insect placed in the region might be unable to detect the streaming of the air further out. In a similar way it seemed possible that as the earth moved through the ether such tiny insects as the physicists in their laboratories might be in a part of the ether carried along with the earth, in which they could not detect the streaming outside. But another laboratory experiment, this time by Sir Oliver Lodge, discredited this explanation, and it was then suggested as an alternative that distances were automatically altered by movement.
It may be well to explain briefly the significance of this alternative. The Michelson-Morley experiment depended on the difference between travelling up and down stream, and across it. To use a few figures may be the quickest way of making the point clear. Suppose a very wide, perfectly smooth stream running at 3 miles an hour, and that oarsmenare to start from afixedpointin midstream, row out in any direction to a distance of 4 miles from, and back again to the starting-point. Which is the best direction to choose? We shall probably all agree that it will be either directly up and down stream, or directly across it, and we may confine attention to these two directions. First suppose an oarsmanstarts straight across stream. To keep straight he must set his boat at an angle to the stream. If he reaches his 4 mile limit in an hour, the stream has been virtually carrying him down 3 miles in a direction at right angles to his course: and the well-known relation between the sides of a right-angled triangle tells us that he has effectively pulled 5 miles in the hour. It will take him similarly an hour to come back, and the total journey will involve an effective pull of 10 miles.
Now suppose another oarsman,, of equal skill elects to row up stream. In two hours he could pull 10 miles if there were no stream; but since meantime the stream has pulled him back 6 miles by "direct action" he will have only just reached the 4 mile limit from the start, and has still his return journey to go. No doubt he will accomplish this pretty quickly with the stream to help him, but his antagonist has already got home before he begins the return. We might have let him do his quick journey down stream first, but it is easy to see that this would gain him no ultimate advantage.
Michelson and Morley sent two rays of light on two journeys similar to those of the oarsmenand. The stream was the supposed stream of ether from east to west which should result from the earth's movement of rotation from west to east. They confidently expected the return ofbefore that of, and were quite taken aback to find thetwo reaching the goal together. In the aquatic analogy of which we have made use, it would no doubt be suspected thatwas really the faster oar, which might be tested by interchanging the courses; but there are no known differences in the velocity of light which would allow of a parallel explanation. There was, however, the possibility that the distances had been marked wrongly, and this was tested by interchanging them, without altering the "dead-heat."
Now there are several alternative explanations of this result. One is that the ether does not itself exist, and therefore there is no stream of it, actual or apparent; and it is to this sweeping conclusion that modern reasoning, following recent experiments and observations, is tending. The possibility of saving the ether by endowing it with four dimensions instead of three is scarcely calculated to satisfy those who believed (until recently) that we knew more about the ether than about matter itself. They saved the ether for a time by an automatic shortening of all bodies in the direction of their movement, which explained the dead-heat puzzle. With the velocities used above, the goal attained bymust be automatically movedof a mile nearer the starting-point, so thatonly rowsmiles out and back instead of 4 miles. So gross a piece of cheating would enableto make his dead-heat, but could scarcely escape detection. The shortening of the course required in the case of light is very minute indeed, because the velocities of the heavenly bodies are so small compared with that of light. If they could be multiplied a thousand times we might see some curious things, but we have no actual experience to guide a forecast.
It is a great triumph for Pure Mathematics that it should have devised aforecast for us in its own peculiar way. Starting from axioms or postulates, Einstein, by sheer mathematical skill, making full use of the beautiful theoretical apparatus inherited from his predecessors, pointed ultimately to three observational tests, three things which must happen if the axioms and postulates were well founded. One of the tests—the movement of the perihelion of Mercury's orbit—had already been made and was awaiting explanation as a standing puzzle. Another—a displacement of lines in the spectrum of the sun—is still being made, the issue being not yet clear.
The third suggestion was that the rays of light from a star would be bent on passing near the sun by a particular amount, and this test has just provided a sensational triumph for Einstein. The application was particularly interesting because it was not known which of at least three results might be attained. If light were composed of material particles as Newton suggested, then in passing the sun they would suffer a natural deflection (the use of the adjective is an almost automatic consequence of modes of thought which we must now abandon) which we may call. On Einstein's theory the deflection would be just twice this amount,. But it was thought quite possible that the result might be neithernorbut zero, and Professor Eddington remarked before setting out on the recent expedition that a zero result, however disappointing immediately, might ultimately turn out the most fruitful of all. That was less than a year ago. Perhaps a few dates are worth remembering. Einstein's theory was fully developed and stated in November, 1915, but news of it did not reach England (owing to the War) for some months. In 1917 the Astronomer Royal pointed out the special suitability of the Total Solar Eclipse of May, 1919,as an occasion for testing Einstein's Theory. Preparations for two Expeditions were commenced—Mr. Hinks described the geographical conditions on the central line in November, 1917—but could not be fully in earnest until the Armistice of November, 1918. In November, 1919, the entirely satisfactory outcome was announced to the Royal Society and characterized by the President as necessitating a veritable revolution in scientific thought.
But when Mr. Brose brought me his translation of the pamphlet in the spring of 1919, the issue was still in doubt. He had become deeply interested in the new theory while interned in Germany as a civilian prisoner and had there made this translation. I encouraged him to publish it and opened negotiations to that end, but it was not until we enlisted the sympathy of Professor Eddington (on his return from the Expedition) and approached the Cambridge Press that a feasible plan of publication was found. Professor Eddington would have been a far more appropriate introducer; and it is only in deference to his own express wish that I have ventured to take up the pen that he would have used to much better purpose. One advantage I reap from the decision: I can express the thanks of Mr. Brose and myself to him for his practical help, and perhaps I may add those of a far wider circle for his own able expositions of an intricate theory, which have done so much to make it known in England.
H. H. TURNER
UNIVERSITY OBSERVATORY,OXFORD.November30, 1919