New Lands (6 page)
Authors: Charles Fort
We find that it was Mr. Chambers who had revised and published the new edition of Smyth’s
Cycle.
In the
English Mechanic,
Chambers challenged Sadler to publish, say, fifty “stupid errors.” See page 451, vol. 33,
English Mechanic
—Sadler lists just fifty “stupid errors.” He says that he could have listed, not fifty, but 250, not trivial, but of the “grossest kind.” He says that in one set of 167 observations, 117 were wrong.
The
English Mechanic
drops out of this comedy with the obvious title, but developments go on. Evidently withdrawing its “regrets,” the Council permitted publication of a criticism of Chambers’ edition of Smyth’s
Cycle,
in
Monthly Notices,
40-497, and the language in this criticism, by S.W. Burnham, was no less interpretable as slanderous than was Sadler’s: that Smyth’s data were “either roughly approximate or grossly incorrect, and so constantly recurring that it was impossible to explain that they were ordinary errors of observation.” Burnham lists thirty pages of errors.
Following is a paper by E.B. Knobel, who published seventeen pages of instances in which, in his opinion, Mr. Burnham had been too severe. Knowing of no objection by Burnham to this reduction, we have left thirteen pages of errors in one standard astronomical work, which may fairly be considered as representative of astronomical work in general, inasmuch as it was, in the opinion of the Astronomer Royal, a book of “sterling merit.”
I think that now we have accomplished something. After this we should all get along more familiarly and agreeably together.
Thirteen pages of errors in one standard astronomical work are reassuring; there is a likable fallibility here that should make for better relations. If the astronomers were what they think they are, we might as well make squeaks of disapproval against Alpine summits. As to astronomers who calculate positions of planets—of whom he was one—Newcomb, in
Reminiscences of an Astronomer,
says—“The men who have done it are therefore, in intellect, the select few of the human race—an aristocracy above all others in the scale of being.” We could never get along comfortably with such awful selectness as that. We are grateful to Mr. Sadler, in the cause of more comfortable relations.
6
English Mechanic,
56-184:
That, upon April 25, 1892, Archdeacon Nouri climbed Mt. Ararat. It was his hope that he should find something of archaeologic compensation for his clamberings. He found Noah’s Ark.
About the same time, Dr. Holden, Director of the Lick Observatory, was watching one of the polished and mysterious-looking instruments that, in the new ikonology, have replaced the images of saints. Dr. Holden was waiting for the appointed moment of the explosion of a large quantity of dynamite in San Francisco Bay. The moment came. The polished little “saint” revealed to the faithful scientist. He wrote an account of the record, and sent copies to the San Francisco newspapers. Then he learned that the dynamite had not been fired off. He sent a second messenger after the first messenger, and, because messengers sometimes have velocities proportional to urgencies—“the Observatory escaped ridicule by a narrow margin.” See the
Observatory,
20-467. This revelation came from Prof. Colton, who, though probably faithful to all the “saints,” did not like Dr. Holden.
The system that Archdeacon Nouri represented lost its power because its claims exceeded all conceivableness, and because, in other respects, of its inertness to the obvious. The system that Dr. Holden represented is not different: there is the same seeing of whatever may be desirable, and the same profound meditations upon the remote, with the same inattention to fairly acceptable starting points. The astronomers like to tell audiences of just what gases are burning in an unimaginably remote star, but have never reasonably made acceptable, for instance, that this earth is round, to start with. Of course I do not mean to say that this, or anything else, can be positively proved, but it is depressing to hear it said, so authoritatively, that the round shadow of this earth upon the moon proves that this earth is round, whereas records of angular shadows are common, and whereas, if this earth were a cube, its straight sides would cast a rounded shadow upon the convex moon. That the first part of a receding vessel to disappear should be the lower part may be only such an illusion of perspective as that by which railroad tracks seem to dip toward each other in the distance. Meteors sometimes appear over one part of the horizon and then seem to curve down behind the opposite part of the horizon, whereas they describe no such curve, because to a string of observers each observer is at the center of the seeming curve.
Once upon a time—about the year 1870—occurred an unusual sporting event. John Hampden, who was noted for his piety and his bad language, whose avowed purpose was to support the principles of this earth’s earliest geodesist, offered to bet five hundred pounds that he could prove the flatness of this earth. Somewhere in England is the Bedford Canal, and along a part of it is a straight, unimpeded view, six miles in length. Orthodox doctrine—or the doctrine of the newer orthodoxy, because John Hampden considered that he was orthodox—is that the earth’s curvature is expressible in the formula of eight inches for the first mile, and then the square of the distance times eight inches. For two miles, then, the square of two, or four, times eight. An object six miles away should be depressed 288 inches, or, allowing for refraction, according to Proctor
(Old and New Astronomy)
216 inches. Hampden said that an object six miles away, upon this part of the Bedford Canal, was not depressed as it “should” be. Dr. Alfred Russell Wallace took up the bet. Mr. Walsh, Editor of the
Field,
was the stakeholder. A procession went to the Bedford Canal. Objects were looked at through telescopes, or looked for, and the decision was that Hampden had lost. There was rejoicing in the fold of the chosen, though Hampden, in one of his most furious bombardments of verses from the Bible, charged conspiracy and malfeasance and confiscation, and what else I don’t know, piously and intemperately declaring that he had been defrauded.
In the
English Mechanic,
80-40, someone writes to find out about the “Bedford Canal Experiment.” We learn that the experiment had been made again. The correspondent writes that, if there were basis to the rumors that he had heard, there must be something wrong with established doctrine. Upon page 138, Lady Blount answers—that, upon May 11, 1904, she had gone to the Bedford Canal, accompanied by Mr. E. Clifton, a well-known photographer, who was himself uninfluenced by her motives, which were the familiar ones of attempting to restore the old gentleman who first took up the study of geodesy. However, she seethes with neither piety nor profanity. She says that, with his telescopic camera, Mr. Clifton had photographed a sheet, six miles away, though by conventional theory the sheet should have been invisible. In a later number of the
English Mechanic,
a reproduction of this photograph is published. According to this evidence this earth is flat, or is a sphere enormously greater than is generally supposed. But at the 1901 meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, Mr. H. Yule Oldham read a paper upon his investigations at the Bedford Canal. He, too, showed photographs. In his photographs, everything that should have been invisible was invisible.
I accept that anybody who is convinced that still are there relics upon Mt. Ararat, has only to climb Mt. Ararat, and he must find something that can be said to be part of Noah’s Ark, petrified perhaps. If someone else should be convinced that a mistake has been made, and that the mountain is really Pike’s Peak, he has only to climb Pike’s Peak and prove that the most virtuous of all lands was once the Holy Land. The meaning that I read in the whole subject is that, in this Dark Age that we’re living in, not even such rudimentary matters as the shape of this earth have ever been investigated except now and then to support somebody’s theory, because astronomers have instinctively preferred the remote and the not so easily understandable and the safe from external inquiry. In
Earth Features and Their Meaning,
Prof. Hobbs says that this earth is top-shaped, quite as the sloping extremities of Africa and South America suggest. According to Prof. Hobbs, observations upon the pendulum suggest that this earth is shaped like a top. Some years ago, Dr. Gregory read a paper at a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society, giving data to support the theory of a top-shaped earth. In the records of the Society, one may read a report of the discussion that followed. There was no ridiculing. The President of the Society closed the discussion with virtual endorsement, recalling that it was Christopher Columbus who first said that this earth is top-shaped. For other expressions of this revolt against ancient dogmas, see
Bull. Soc. Astro. de France,
17-315; 18-143;
Pop. Sci. News,
31-234;
Eng. Mec.,
77-159;
Sci. Amer.,
100-441.
As to supposed motions of this earth, axial and orbital, circumstances are the same, despite the popular supposition that the existence of these motions has been established by syntheses of data and by unanswerable logic. All scientists, philosophers, religionists, are today looking back, wondering what could have been the matter with their predecessors to permit them to believe what they did believe. Granted that there will be posterity, we shall be predecessors. Then what is it that is conventionally taught today that will in the future seem as imbecilic as to all present orthodoxies seem the vaporings of preceding systems?
Well, for instance, that it is this earth that moves, though the sun seems to, by the same illusion by which to passengers on a boat, the shore seems to move, though it is the boat that is moving.
Apply this reasoning to the moon. The moon seems to move around the earth—but to passengers on a boat, the shore seems to move, whereas it is the boat that is moving—therefore the moon does not move.
As to the motions of the planets and stars that coordinate with the idea of a moving earth—they coordinate equally well with the idea of a stationary earth.
In the system that was conceived by Copernicus I find nothing that can be said to resemble foundation: nothing but the appeal of greater simplicity. An earth that rotates and revolves is simpler to conceive of than is a stationary earth with a rigid composition of stars, swinging around it, stars kept apart by some unknown substance, or inter-repulsion. But all those who think that simplification is a standard to judge by are referred to Herbert Spencer’s compilations of data indicating that advancing knowledge complicates, making, then, complexity, and not simplicity, the standard by which to judge the more advanced. My own acceptance is that there are fluxes one way and then the other way: that the Ptolemaic system was complex and was simplified; that, out of what was once a clarification, new complications have arisen, and that again will come flux toward simplification or clarification—that the simplification by Copernicus has now developed into an incubus of unintelligibilities revolving around a farrago of inconsistencies, to which the complexities of Ptolemy are clear geometry: miracles, incredibilities, puerilities; tottering deductions depending upon flimsy agreements; brutalized observations that are slaves to infatuated principles—
And one clear call that is heard above the rumble of readjusting collapses—the call for a Neo-astronomy—it may not be our Neo-astronomy.
Prof. Young, for instance, in his
Manual of Astronomy,
says that there are no common, obvious proofs that the earth moves around the sun, but that there are three abstrusities, all of modern determination. Then, if Copernicus founded the present system, he founded upon nothing. He had nothing to base upon. He either never heard of, or could not detect one of these abstrusities. All his logic is represented in his reasoning upon this earth’s rotundity: that this earth is round, because of a general tendency to sphericity, manifesting, for instance, in fruits and in drops of water—showing that he must have been unaware not only of abstrusities, but of icicles and bananas and oysters. It is not that I am snobbishly deriding the humble and more than questionable ancestry of modern astronomy. I am pointing out that a doctrine came into existence with nothing for a foundation: not a datum, not one observation to found upon; no astronomical principles, no mechanical principles to justify it. Our inquiry will be as to how, in the annals of false architecture, it could ever be said that—except miraculously, of course—a foundation was subsequently slipped under this baseless structure, dug under, rammed under, or God knows how devised and fashioned.
7
The three abstrusities:
The aberration of light, the annual parallax of the stars, the regular, annual shift of the lines of the stellar spectra.
By the aberration of light is meant a displacement of all stars, during a year’s observation, by which stars near the pole of the ecliptic describe circles, stars nearer the ecliptic describe ellipses, and the stars of the ecliptic, only little straight lines. It is supposed that light has velocity, and that these forms represent the ratio between the velocity of light and the supposed velocity of this earth in its orbit. In the year 1725, Bradley conceived of the present orthodox explanation of the aberration forms of the stars: that they reflect or represent the path that this earth traverses around the sun, as it would look from the stars, appearing virtually circular from stars in the pole of the ecliptic, for instance. In Bradley’s day there were no definite delusions as to the traversing by this earth of another path in space, as part of a whole moving system, so Bradley felt simple and satisfied. About a century later by some of the most amusing reasoning that one could be entertained with, astronomers decided that the whole supposed solar system is moving, at a rate of about thirteen miles a second from the region of Sirius to a point near Vega, all this occurring in northern skies, because southern astronomers had not very much to say at that time. Now, then, if at one time in the year, and in one part of its orbit, this earth is moving in the direction in which the whole solar system is moving, there we have this earth traversing a distance that is the sum of its own motion and the general motion; then when the earth rounds about and retraces, there we have its own velocity minus the general velocity. The first abstrusity, then, is knocked flat on its technicalities, because the aberration forms, then, do not reflect the annual motion of this earth: if, in conventional terms, though the path of this earth is circular or elliptic relatively to the sun, when compounding with solar motion it is not so formed relatively to stars; and there will have to be another explanation for the aberration-forms.
The second supposed proof that this earth moves around the sun is in the parallax of the stars. In conventional terms, it is said that opposite points in this earth’s orbit are 185,000,000 miles apart. It is said that stars, so differently viewed, are minutely displaced against their backgrounds. Again solar motion—if, in conventional terms, this earth has been traveling, as part of the solar system, from Sirius, toward Vega, in 2,000 years this earth has traveled 819,936,000,000 miles. This distance is 4,500 times the distance that is the base line for orbital parallax. Then displacement of the stars by solar-motion parallax in 2,000 years, should be 4,500 times the displacement by orbital parallax, in one year. Give to orbital parallax as minute a quantity as is consistent with the claims made for it, and 4,500 times that would dent the Great Dipper and nick the Sickle of Leo, and perhaps make the Dragon look like a dragon. But not a star in the heavens has changed more than doubtfully since the stars were catalogued by Hipparchus, 2,000 years ago. If, then, there be minute displacements of stars that are attributed to orbital parallax, they will have to be explained in some other way, if evidently the sun does not move from Sirius toward Vega, and if then, quite as reasonably, this earth may not move.
Prof. Young’s third “proof” is spectroscopic.
To what degree can spectroscopy in astronomy be relied upon?
Bryant,
A History of Astronomy,
p. 206:
That, according to Bélopolsky, Venus rotates in about twenty-four hours, as determined by the spectroscope; that, according to Dr. Slipher, Venus rotates in about 224 days, as determined by the spectroscope.
According to observations too numerous to make it necessary to cite any, the seeming motions of stars, occulted by the moon, show that the moon has atmosphere. According to the spectroscope, there is no atmosphere upon the moon
(Pubs. Astro. Soc. Pacific,
vol. 6, no. 37).
The ring of light around Venus, during the transits of 1874 and 1882, indicated that Venus has atmosphere. Most astronomers say that Venus has an atmosphere of extreme density, obscuring the features of the planet. According to spectrum analysis, by Sir William Huggins, Venus has no atmosphere
(Eng. Mec.,
4-22).
In the
English Mechanic,
89-439, are published results of spectroscopic examinations of Mars, by Director Campbell, of the Lick Observatory: that there is no oxygen, and that there is no water vapor on Mars. In
Monthly Notices, R.A.S.,
27-178, are published results of spectroscopic examinations of Mars by Huggins: abundance of oxygen; same vapors as the vapors of this earth.
These are the amusements of our Pilgrim’s Progress, which has new San Salvadors for its goals, or new Plymouth Rocks for its expectations—but the experiences of pilgrims have variety—
In 1895, at the Allegheny Observatory, Prof. Keeler undertook to determine the rotation period of Saturn’s rings, by spectroscopy. It is gravitational gospel that particles upon the outside of the rings move at the rate of 10.69 miles a second; particles upon the inner edge, 13.01 miles a second. Prof. Keeler’s determinations were what Sir Robert Ball calls “brilliant confirmation of the mathematical deduction.” Prof. Keeler announced that according to the spectroscope, the outside particles of the rings of Saturn move at the rate of 10.1 miles a second, and that the inner particles move at the rate of 12.4 miles a second—“as they ought to,” says Prof. Young, in his gospel,
Elements of Astronomy.
One reads of a miracle like this, the carrying out into decimals of different speeds of different particles in parts of a point of light, the parts of which cannot be seen at all without a telescope, whereby they seem to constitute a solid motionless structure, and one admires, or one worships, according to one’s inexperience—
Or there comes upon one a sense of imposture and imposition that is not very bearable. Imposition or imposture or captivation—and it’s as if we’ve been trapped and have been put into a revolving cage, some of the bars revolving at unthinkable speed, and other bars of it going around still faster, even though not conceivable. Disbelieve as we will, deride and accuse, and think of all the other false demonstrations that we have encountered, as we will—there’s the buzz of the bars that encircle us. The concoction that has caged us is one of the most brilliant harlots in modern prostitution: we’re imprisoned at the pleasure of a favorite in the harem of the God of Gravitation. That’s some relief: language always is—but how are we to “determine” that the rings of Saturn do not move as they “ought” to, and thereby add more to the discrediting of spectroscopy in astronomy?
A gleam on a planet that’s like shine on a sword to deliver us—
The White Spot of Saturn—
A bright and shining deliverer.
There’s a gleam that will shatter concoctions and stop velocities. There’s a shining thing on the planet Saturn, and the blow that it shines is lightning. Thus far has gone a revolution of 10.1 miles a second, but it stops by magic against magic; no farther buzzes a revolution of 124 miles a second—that the rings of Saturn may not move as, to flatter one little god, they “ought” to, because, by the handiwork of Universality, they may be motionless.
Often has a white spot been seen upon the rings of Saturn: by Schmidt, Bond, Secchi, Schroeter, Harding, Schwabe, De Vico—a host of other astronomers.
It is stationary.
In the
English Mechanic,
49-195, Thomas Gwyn Elger publishes a sketch of it as he saw it upon the nights of April 18 and 20, 1889. It occupied a position partly upon one ring and partly upon the other, showing no distortion. Let Prof. Keeler straddle two concentric merry-go-rounds, whirling at different velocities: there will be distortion. See vol. 49,
English Mechanic,
for observation after observation by astronomers upon this appearance, when seen for several months in the year 1889, the observers agreeing that, no matter what are the demands of theory, this fixed spot did indicate that the rings of Saturn do not move.
The White Spot on Saturn has blasted minor magic. He has little, black retainers who now function in the cause of completeness—the little, black spots of Saturn—
Nature,
53-109:
That, in July and August, 1895, Prof. Mascari, of the Catania Observatory, had seen dark spots upon the crepe ring of Saturn. The writer in
Nature
says that such duration is not easy to explain, if the rings of Saturn be formations of moving particles, because different parts of the discolored areas would have different velocities, so that soon would they distort and diffuse.
Certainly enough, relatively to my purpose, which is to find out for myself, and to find out with anybody else who may be equally impressed with a necessity, a brilliant, criminal thing has been slain by a gleam of higher intensity. Certainly enough, then, with the execution of one of its foremost exponents, the whole subject of spectroscopy in astronomy has been cast into rout and disgrace, of course only to ourselves, and not in the view of manufacturers of spectroscopes, for instance; but a phantom thing dies a phantom death, and must be slain over and over again.
I should say that just what is called the spectrum of a star is not commonly understood. It is one of the greatest uncertainties in science. The spectrum of a star is a ghost in the first place, but this ghost has to be further attenuated by a secondary process, and the whole appearance trembles so with the twinkling of a star that the stories told by spectra are gasps of palsied phantoms. So it is that, in one of the greatest indefinitenesses in science, an astronomer reads in a bewilderment that can be made to correspond with any desideratum. So it is our acceptance that when any faint, tremulous story told by a spectrum becomes standardized, the conventional astronomer is told, by the spectroscope, what he should be told, but that when anything new appears, for which there is no convention, the bewilderment of the astronomers is made apparent, and the worthlessness of spectroscopy in astronomy is shown to all except those who do not want to be shown. Upon the first of February, 1892, Dr. Thomas D. Anderson, of Edinburgh, discovered a new star that became known as Nova Aurigae. Here was something as to which there was no dogmatic “determination.” Each astronomer had to see, not what he should, but what he could. We shall see that the astronomers might as well have gone, for information, to some of Mrs. Piper’s “controls” as to think of depending upon their own ghosts.
In
Monthly Notices,
February, 1893, it is said that probably for seven weeks, up to the time of calculation, one part of this new star had been receding at a rate of 230 miles a second, and another part approaching at a rate of 320 miles a second, giving to these components a distance apart of 550 miles x 60 x 60 x 24 x 49, whatever that may be.
But there was another séance. This time Dr. Vogel was the medium. The ghosts told Dr. Vogel that the new star had three parts, one approaching this earth at the rate of about 420 miles a second, another approaching at a rate of twenty-two miles a second, a third part receding at a rate of 300 miles a second. See
Jour. B.A.A.,
2-258.
After that, the “controls” became hysterical. They flickered that there were six parts of this new star, according to Dr. Lowell’s
Evolution of Worlds,
p. 9. The faithful will be sorry to read that Lowell revolted. He says: “There is not room for so many on the stage of the cosmic drama.” For other reasons for repudiating spectroscopy, or spiritualism, in astronomy, read what else Lowell says upon this subject.
Nova Aurigae became fainter. Accordingly, Prof. Klinkerfues “found” that two bodies had passed, and had inflamed, each other, and that the light of their mutual disturbances would soon disappear
(Jour. B.A.A.,
2-365).
Nova Aurigae became brighter. Accordingly, Dr. Campbell “determined” that it was approaching this earth at a rate of 128 miles a second
(Jour. B.A.A.,
2-504).
Then Dr. Espin went into a trance. It was revealed to him that the object was a nebula
(Eng. Mec.,
56-61). Communication from Dr. and Mrs. Huggins, to the Royal Society—not a nebula, but a star
(Eng. Mec.,
57-397). See
Nature,
47-352, 425—that, according to M. Eugen Gothard, the spectrum of N.A. agreed “perfectly” with the spectrum of a nebula: that, according to Dr. Huggins, no contrast could be more striking than the difference between the spectrum of N.A., and the spectrum of a nebula.
For an account of the revelations at Stonyhurst Observatory, see
Mems. R.A.S.,
51-129—that there never had been a composition of bodies moving at the rates that were so definitely announced, because N.A. was a single star.
Though I have read some of the communications from “Rector” and “Dr. Phinuit” to Mrs. Piper, I cannot think that they ever mouthed sillier babble than was flickered by the star ghosts to the astronomers in the year 1892. We noted Prof. Klinkerfues’ “finding” that two stars had passed each other, and that the illumination from their mutual perturbations would soon subside. There was no such disappearance. For observations upon N.A., ten years later, see
Monthly Notices,
62-65. For Prof. Barnard’s observations twenty years later, see
Sci. Amer. Sup.,
76-154.
The spectroscope is useful in a laboratory. Spoons are useful in a kitchen. If any other pilgrim should come upon a group of engineers trying to dig a canal with spoons, his experience and his temptation to linger would be like ours as to the astronomers and their attempted application of the spectroscope. I don’t know what of remotest acceptability may survive in the third supposed proof that this earth moves around the sun, though we have not found it necessary to go into the technicalities of the supposed proof. I think we have killed the phantom thing, but I hope we have not quite succeeded, because we are moved more by the aesthetics of slaughter than by plain murderousness: we shall find unity in disposing of the third “proof” by the means by which the two others were disposed of—