If you picked up a magazine and read in it a story mentioning a
passenger-carrying rocket driven by atomic power furnished by a
substance prepared from uranium, you probably would not be greatly
surprised. After all, such an invention is today but a step or two ahead
of cold fact. But you might be surprised to learn that if this story was
_A Columbus of Space_, the one I happen to have in mind, your
grand-parents may well have read it before you were born--for _A
Columbus of Space_ was published in _All-Story_ magazine in 1909, thirty
years before the potentialities of U235 were realized, and nearly forty
before the atomic bomb became a problem for people to think about.
Did the author of this story simply make a lucky shot in the dark?
Perhaps; but let me tell those who are inclined to think so that he was
a Carnegie lecturer, a member of half-a-dozen learned societies, one of
the first to write a book on Einstein's theory of relativity, and an
internationally known figure in his specialty, astronomy. His name is
Garrett Putman Serviss.
He was born on March 24, 1851, at Sharon Springs, New York, of native
New England stock. His interest in astronomy began as a boy, and was
greatly stimulated when he began to examine the beauties of the heavens
through a small telescope, the gift of his older brother. This
encouraged his enrolling in the course of science at Cornell University
in 1868 (its opening year) from which he was graduated in 1872. There
followed two years at the Columbia College Law School, which he left as
an LL. B.; and in June, 1874 he was admitted to the bar. He did not
practice law, however, but turned instead to newspaper reporting.
Whence came this interest in law and journalism? We can only guess,
tracing its onset to the man's college days. As a Cornell sophomore, he
was the class poet; as a senior, its historian; and on commencement day
delivered an oration on "The Perpetuity of the Heroic Element." But
whatever the origin of the interest, unquestioned ability supported it.
From the position of reporter and correspondent with the New York
_Tribune_ he rose to the post of copy editor on the staff of the _Sun_.
Finally he became night editor, a position which he held for a full
decade.
During this period we can see the old interest in science gradually
assert itself. At first it took the form of anonymous articles, mainly
on matters astronomical. These usually appeared on the editorial page
and, partly because they were then a novelty, partly because of a quirk
of fate--editor-in-chief Charles Dana frequently had them set up in bold
type, believing their logic was a fine counter-irritant for heated
political campaigns of the day--the attention of subscribers was focused
on them more sharply than usual. In fact, readers over the entire
country were soon conjecturing about the identity of "the _Sun's_
astronomer." Very few knew that it was Garrett Serviss, who successfully
cloaked his identity for years.
Success in written popularizing of science led him to attempt its
duplication on the lecture platform. There his triumphs were such as to
lead him to resign as night editor of the _Sun_ in 1892 and make
astronomy his life work. Until 1894 he was occupied with "The Urania
Lectures." These were sponsored by Andrew Carnegie, and dealt with
geology, astronomy, archeology and similar scientific topics. With them
Serviss successfully toured the country, and it was only because of the
great difficulty in transporting the elaborate staging equipment they
required that they were eventually discontinued. He continued to give
popular lectures, however, and one of his few biographers has credited
his greatness on the rostrum to "a pleasant voice, a charming
personality, and a genuine enthusiasm for his subject."
One cannot doubt this enthusiasm; it shines forth unmistakably from all
his writings. Probably, too, it played the major part in enabling him to
reach a wider reading public than any other astronomer before or after
him. For he never abandoned the pen. Up until his death, which occurred
on May 25, 1929, he wrote continually, syndicated newspaper columns,
magazine articles, books on astronomy, fiction.
His first book, _Astronomy with an Opera Glass_, appeared in 1888. He
was responsible for several other scientific titles (the reader is
referred to the bibliography at the end of this volume for a detailed
listing); they include _Einstein's Theory of Relativity_, which is a
companion work to the motion picture of the same name. He was also
editor-in-chief of Collier's sixteen-volume _Popular Science Library_.
It might be added that much of the editing and captioning of the
Einstein film was his work, and that he collaborated with Leon Barritt
in the invention of the Barritt-Serviss Star and Planet Finder, a device
still in use.
In comparison with his other writings his output of fiction is small:
five novels and a single short story. It is, however, characterized by
the same logic and interest, this time tossed aloft to soar on the wings
of romantic imagination. Two of these works deal in some detail with the
world of the future as he thought it might be--prophetic fiction, if you
will; another two give us a picture of life on neighboring planets; and
the final couple, although they maintain a terrestrial locale, show as
wide a scope of creative invention.
In only one of these does astronomy fail to play at least a supporting
role. That is _The Sky Pirate_ (1909), which is an adventure story laid
in the year 1936. Its plot revolves around an abduction for ransom in a
period which is visualized as rampant with piracy because of the general
adoption of air transportation. As usual, fact has outmoded prophecy,
for long before 1936 airplane speeds exceeded the 140 miles per hour
Serviss predicted. We still need, though, his invention which enables
badly damaged aircraft to drift slowly down to a safe landing.
_The Moon Metal_ (1900) deals with the problem of a strange, lunar metal
used as a monetary standard to replace gold when, in 1949, huge new
deposits of that metal rendered it common as iron. This is of short
story length, and amply demonstrates the author's mastery of that
medium.
From the prophetic as well as the entertainment standpoint, one of
Garrett Serviss' most interesting novels is _A Columbus of Space_. Here
he visualizes atomic energy liberated and harnessed to drive a rocket to
the planet Venus. His conception is uncannily close to truth; he names
uranium as the raw material from which is extracted the vital substance,
a "crystallized powder" which releases its energy on proper treatment.
No less intriguing is the description of the intelligent civilizations
on Venus which explorers from this world find.
Two later novels came from his pen: _The Moon Maiden_ (1915) and _The
Second Deluge_ (1911). The former is a scientific mystery, and probably
the least distinguished of his works. The latter, conversely, is
probably his best. It tells of a watery nebula which collides with the
earth, flooding it with a second deluge; and of how the human race is
saved through the wisdom of one man who foresaw the coming disaster in
time to build a second ark. A new civilization which has mastered the
secret of atomic energy springs up on the planet as the waters recede.
The canvas is a broad one, and the author does it full justice.
Serviss' outstanding stories have been published abroad and re-printed
in this country several times, a deserved tribute to their quality and
popularity. His very first work of fiction, however, has been shrouded
in obscurity for nearly half a century. Indeed, among collectors and
aficionados of the fantastic there was for a time debate as to its
actual existence. This is hardly surprising, for until its reprinting in
this book _Edison's Conquest of Mars_ lay buried in the Congressional
Library's file of the ephemeral New York _Evening Journal_, where it ran
serially in early 1898.
This is a remarkable work. First of all, as many readers will quickly
discern, it is in a sense a sequel to H. G. Wells' well known _War of
the Worlds_. The latter novel was serialized by _Cosmopolitan_ magazine
in 1897; it caught the public's fickle fancy, and was widely commented
upon. All evidence indicates that Serviss also read it: he was a regular
contributor to _Cosmopolitan_. Yet I am inclined to doubt that mere
reading of _The War of the Worlds_ in itself prompted him to produce a
work in the same vein. Wells' effort was not concluded until the
December, 1897 number of the magazine, and _Edison's Conquest of Mars_
began on the following January 12th--a scant six weeks later. For
Serviss it was the initial excursion into the realm of fiction, and it
is hard to conceive his so hastily adopting a new metier on personal
impulse alone. These circumstances, in conjunction with the context of
the novel itself, clearly stamp the entire business as clever
capitalization on already existent publicity. Again, I doubt if he
thought of it at first in that light; his name was well enough known so
that he could live by his knowledge, not his wits. But to a newspaper
editor the prospect of combining the authority of a nationally known and
reputable astronomer with a work designed to satisfy a reading public's
waiting appetite for the unusual--in short, presenting legitimatized
sensationalism at the psychological moment--this must have had
irresistible appeal. That _Edison's Conquest of Mars_ was written on
editorial commission, perhaps as fast as it appeared, seems, then, the
most probable interpretation.
Historically, the work is one of the earliest to employ the
interplanetary theme. It is the first to portray a battle fought by
space craft in the airless void; and possibly the first also to propose
the use of sealed suits that enable men to traverse a vacuum. Of the
more minor twists of plot initially found here that have since become
parts of the "pulp" science-fiction writers' standard stock-in-trade,
there are literally too many to mention.
The novel opens with a description of the ruins of eastern America.
Although the Martians who survived terrestrial bacteria have left the
planet, astronomical observations show a recurrence on the red planet of
the same lights that were a prelude to the first onslaught. The
conclusion is inevitable: a second invasion is on the way. Serviss
pictures the gathering together of the most famous scientists of the
day--Edison, Roentgen, Lord Kelvin and others. The Martian machines and
weapons left behind are dismantled; their principles of operation are
discovered and duplicated; and a defense against their forces is
perfected. Armed with this knowledge and with the "disintegrator," a
device invented by Edison which is capable of reducing to atoms any
substance at which it is aimed, the nations of the world pool their
resources and launch an invasion of Mars across interplanetary space.
More by way of explanation than justification, it should be stated that
science today is diminishing the number of critics who are wont to label
plots of this nature "too fantastic." For them to say that the colossal
has become more important than the rational is, I feel, misleading. For
this is a branch of literature that is in many respects the most
rational of all: it is a symptom of progress. These same critics also
complain that a fantastic plot is frequently developed at the expense of
characterization. To this, one may answer that at times what happens can
be more important than the people to whom it happens. In essence, both
charges derive from laying undue stress upon psychology as the only
legitimate fibre from which a fictional cloth may be woven. Undoubtedly
psychology is necessary--but it can be a warp alone if a strong woof is
supplied. Let me cite two imaginary examples. If a single scientist had
released atomic energy and was in doubt as to whether he should destroy
his secret or reveal it, the psychological processes that determine his
decision become more relevant to consideration than the decision itself.
But if that same scientist managed by the aid of atomic energy to
transport himself to Mars, I would unquestionably be more interested in
what he found on that planet than in why an Oedipus complex drove him
there in the first place.
In the fiction of Garrett Serviss the sweeping magnitude of events
described gives them the leading role. Yet within the limits he has set
for himself he has used human psychology to good advantage. His stories
do not lack empathy, and they are rich in pictorial detail. Inevitably
they reflect the mores of the time, but do not emphasize them unduly. As
a consequence they remain readable and entertaining even to this day.
They show, too, that he was familiar with the works of the few authors
in the genre who preceeded him. _A Columbus of Space_ was dedicated "to
the readers of Jules Verne's romances,"
Not because the author flatters himself that he can walk in the
Footsteps of that Immortal Dreamer, but because, like Jules Verne,
he believes that the World of Imagination is as legitimate a Domain
of the Human Mind as the World of Fact.
Garrett Serviss modestly underestimated his abilities. With the
perspective we possess today it can be seen that he is easily the equal
of Verne, standing with him and H. G. Wells as one of the foremost
science-fiction writers of his day.
A. Langley Searles
_New York, N. Y._
_May 1947_