PREDICTION AND PREVENTION.
“Fain would th’ ephemeral pigmies then aspire
To drive, like Phäethon, the sun’s coach of fire,
To grapple with the lightning in the sky,
Or with the restless winds abroad to fly.
Not all the bolts of Jove, nor Phœbus’ wrath,
May fright them from their wild, self-chosen path.
Though poplars wave above ten thousand graves,
And myriad Icari lie beneath the waves,
The rest, as once the Titans, still press on,
And strive to thrust the great gods from their throne.”
Ever since man has dwelt upon the earth, there has been a constant
effort, not merely to foretell the future, but to control it. So strong
is man’s faith in his own capacity, that wizards, jugglers, fakirs and
tricksters, and necromancers have always found their vocation a
lucrative one. It is easy to make one’s living by imposing upon the
credulity of the public. Not merely the American people, but every other
people, like to be humbugged. So strong is the tendency to gullibility,
that the most extraordinary pretensions are the most readily credited.
The capability of the public to judge in such cases is well illustrated
by the Grecian story of the famous mimic, whose imitation of the grunt
of a pig was so perfect, that thousands came to witness his performance.
A countryman remarked that he could do still better, and, concealing a
pig under his coat, he stole upon the stage. Pinching the animal’s ear,
the pig squealed violently, but the audience hissed the squeak as a
miserable fiasco. Whereat the countryman produced the pig, and left the
audience pondering the situation.
The same tendency causes men to desire to attribute unusual appearances
to causes beyond the domain of natural law. The savage finds thunder and
lightning in the discharge of a gun; mysterious magic in a telescope;
downright sorcery in quinine; witchcraft and incantation in a written
prescription. If one, a little shrewder than his fellows, after long
study of an ant’s nest, conceive the idea that they have a regularly
constituted community, with a queen at the head, he needs only to
suggest such a thing to his neighbors, to be set down as having
communications with the Ant Queen; and he may readily aspire to the
chieftainship, thence to be known as the Ant Chief. Imagination is so
much easier than observation. Doubtless old Numa’s thoughtful air in his
daily retreat, gave rise to the tale that he was in consultation with
the nymph of a fountain. Any one who had devoted an hour each day to
gazing pensively into a stream, might have achieved a like reputation,
as the Hindoo fakir is held in high repute for sanctity, because he
preserves strict silence and gazes for years at the end of his nose.
So when men achieve new results by natural means, it is preferred to
assume otherwise. Good Roger Bacon invented gunpowder by witchcraft. The
early chemists were in league with the Evil One. Faust and Gutenberg
sold their souls to the devil, in order to get Bibles printed. The
Magdeburg physicist, who made a water barometer in which a wooden figure
rose or fell as the atmosphere varied, was the devil’s own child. Cows
sickened and died at the will of shrivelled dames who rode through the
air on broomsticks.
Foreknowledge is always confounded with foreordination. The weather
prophet is transformed into a weathermaker. The myth of Aeolus is thus
explained. Once a king of the Lipari Isles, by careful observation of
the vapor cloud over Stromboli he was enabled to announce changes of
weather a day or two in advance, as every observant man in that region
can do to-day. The simple subjects attributed his knowledge to
supernatural powers, and after his death perpetuated the story of
Aeolus, the king of the winds, who dwelt in a cave in one of the
islands.
In the time of Elijah, the prophets of Baal were confident of procuring
rain by howling, cutting and slashing; while Ahab believed Elijah was
responsible for the drought. The negro and the red man to-day show the
same characteristics in this respect. The negro rain-maker makes fetich;
the red chief, “big medicine,” to bring rains. The reputed success of
each is proportioned to his shrewdness in recognizing tokens of change
in the weather.
The great white man is often little better. While no longer trusting in
the power of any one to control the weather, he has set up a god of
false science, whom all must bow down to and worship. True knowledge is
often flouted and scouted; but every one who would attract attention
must assume at least the appearance of learning. College degrees are
bought and sold at reasonable prices. No questions asked. The
dancing-master is professor. The pugilist has become professor. The man
who fiddles for beer in the corner saloon is professor. Weep, O Minerva!
So any one who wishes especial importance to be attached to his
utterances, needs but assume a title, or a few mystic letters. Every
great catastrophe produces a plentiful brood of them. As soon as the
Charleston earthquake alarmed the country, it was announced that a grave
“Prof.” had predicted it. He was the hero of the hour. Interviewers
flocked from many quarters. For weeks the words of “Prof.” ----, were as
ointment poured out. The papers gave him great space--published sketches
of his career. So much adulation was too much for human nature; besides,
he owed a duty to the public. A man so gifted should continue to give
warning of impending dangers. He did so. They didn’t materialize. The
“Prof.” has had little attention for three years.
The Louisville tornado afforded other cases. A woman in the west
predicted a combined deluge and earthquake, with other minor horrors on
the side, as prepared for the Pacific coast. Some of the gullible people
sold out at great sacrifice, that they might lose as little as possible
by the greatest cyclone and earthquake of the century. Others drew up a
formal petition to the Governor, calling upon him to proclaim a day of
supplication and fasting for the doomed cities of Oakland, San Francisco
and Alameda. The end of the world drew nigh, and these three cities, as
eminently wicked, would be first punished; after which Chicago and
Milwaukee would suffer.
Bands of believers met and wrestled mightily in prayer that the
unparalleled horrors might be averted. They were eminently successful.
Another came forward and announced that the entire Mississippi valley
was to be visited with a cataclysm, such as no man had ever conceived.
The floods were to break all the levees, wash away everything that was
within a hundred miles of the stream, tear up the delta built by the
deposits of ages, and leave the site of New Orleans at the bottom of the
sea. At this writing the Crescent City is in hourly expectation of its
doom.
Yet another seer, warned of the Lord in a vision, perhaps, has just
declared the fate of the Atlantic coast. Before the end of the century
there will be an earthquake such as no man ever before has known. The
fountains of the great deep are to be broken up. All the cities of the
New England coast will be desolated by immense sea waves. Manhattan
Island, with the city of New York, and Long Island, are to be sunk to
the bottom of the sea. Our hearts fail us for fear for the things that
are coming upon the earth. Let us hope that peradventure there be yet
five righteous men in Sodom.
Some years ago great sensation was occasioned by the discovery of Mother
Shipton’s prophecy among some old English manuscripts. It began:
“Carriages shall without horses go,
And accidents fill the world with woe;
Around the world men’s thoughts shall fly,
In the twinkling of an eye.”
After a few statements of this sort, it closed by saying:
“The world to an end shall come
In eighteen hundred and eighty-one.”
Great was the fright of not a few timid believers. Many arranged their
affairs for the end of the world. Some, as the Millerites have several
times done, prepared their ascension robes. Finally, the whole thing
proved to be a hoax. A wag had endeavored to amuse himself at the
expense of the public.
Such are fair specimens of predictions that continually appear in the
newspapers. Certain men will always endeavor to astonish the ignorant by
their words and works. Seldom do sober-minded people pay the least
attention to them. As for minor changes in weather, they are so
constant, and so limited in area, that, as stated elsewhere, any one is
safe for announcing the character of the weather for any day in the
year. From a score of places, he could obtain testimonials of the
correctness of his prognostications; while nine score more, if they
spoke, might declare him altogether mistaken.
But many will ask in all seriousness, if there is no means of
prediction upon which all may depend. Is any more reliance to be placed
upon the prognostications of the Signal Service than upon those of the
self-constituted prophets?
A brief statement of the principles relied upon will be satisfactory on
this point.
Our weather bureau was established in 1870. Such organizations are
maintained, at the public expense, in Great Britain, France, Germany,
Italy, Australia, Russia, India, Algeria, and Japan. Several smaller
countries share in the expense and benefits. Men long trained in the
work grow more reliable. Each must first master the topography and the
prevailing movements of the atmosphere of any region, ere he can presume
to know anything of the probable changes.
How extremely important a knowledge of the country is, will be
understood when it is remembered that mountain ranges may turn aside
great storms, and hills of any considerable size may modify small ones.
And in general, storm paths are so narrow, in comparison with the whole
country, that the slightest variation at the start may be very important
at the end of six hundred or seven hundred miles--or a day’s travel. So,
announcing twenty-four hours beforehand the exact locality a storm may
reach is really a very delicate piece of work. If a tyro should announce
rain for North Georgia, he might be astonished to find a difference of
twenty-one per cent. between Atlanta and Augusta. He would find in
Tennessee sixteen per cent. difference between Knoxville and Nashville;
or twelve and a half per cent. in Iowa between Dubuque and Davenport.
The Signal Service does not endeavor to forecast entirely new conditions
so much as to give warning of storms already on the way. It can not
safely say where a storm will arise; but it can declare with tolerable
certainty the path a storm will pursue after having once started.
Yet, there are certain signs of rain that can be of use to the public.
Americans, as a rule, pay less attention to the actions of the animal
kingdom at change of weather than other nations; and the lower animals
detect changes of weather more quickly than man. Slugs and snails often
leave their crannies, and endeavor to find some drier retreat at the
approach of rain. Swallows fly lower; chiefly because the insects they
pursue abandon the upper air. Crickets and grasshoppers become less
noisy, and seek snug retreats. Fish leap more frequently from the water.
The oft-praised tree-frog seems not to have deserved the confidence
placed in him as a barometer.
Quatremere Disjonval, when made a prisoner of war by the Dutch, made a
careful study of the habits of the house spider, while in confinement.
His observations played an important part in the war. “General Pichegru,
being prevented by the mild weather from carrying out his intention of
invading that country, was about to retire with his army from the Dutch
frontier, when Disjonval found means to inform him that, from the signs
he had observed in his spiders, a severe frost was sure to take place in
the next ten days. Pichegru trusted to the prognostic: the frost came in
time. Holland was conquered, and Disjonval released from his prison.”
Voigt asserts that the spider is so reliable a barometer because of its
anatomy: the long, slender, unmailed legs being peculiarly sensitive to
atmospheric changes. That is, when Madam Spider finds herself with a
touch of rheumatism, she wraps herself in a thicker blanket and takes to
her den. In fine weather the garden spiders are much more plentiful; and
the tiny gossamer spiders also are numerous, and fly at greater
heights.
These serve to illustrate the class of phenomena most relied upon by
those in every land who must spend much time in the open air. The
scientist may understand the laws of winds and rains: but the farmer,
the shepherd, the fisherman, and sailor, to whom every phase of weather
means much, can, relying upon the actions of the lower animals, detect
approaching changes as readily, in many cases, as the Signal Service;
and far more readily or correctly than the quasi learned theorist whose
stock in trade is a hobby and an unlimited quantity of assumption.
It is one thing to understand law; it is quite another to be able to
make practical application of it. Franklin identified lightning with
electricity; a century passed before practical use of the electric light
resulted. We know now the general laws of air currents, but little
application of them has been made.
As to the possibility of controlling the winds, no one has thus far had
the temerity to propose it. But that rainfall can be partially
controlled is well known. The heaviest rains occur in forest areas; and
in turn, the matted roots of the forest and jungle retard the descent of
the rain into the water courses, and hinder the washing away of the
soil. Floods have become more sudden and destructive in the lumber
regions since the timber has been cut away, while the actual rainfall is
not so great. So a number of our Western States require a “homesteader”
to plant a tree claim.
A bold genius has recently asserted that we may produce rain at will, by
sending up balloons loaded with dynamite or other powerful explosives,
and then firing them. It has been observed that almost every great
modern battle has been followed by a heavy rainfall; and the idea is,
that the continued explosions have had much to do with them.
Frequenters of Fourth of July picnics will readily vouch for the
correctness of the theory.
Doubtless a more effective plan would be simply to apply the well known
first principle of air-currents and storms--heated air; but this would
be immensely expensive. Every year sees exemplifications of it, however,
in the heavy rains that follow the great forest fires or prairie fires
of our own land. Natives of tropical regions frequently burn the jungle
at the close of the dry season; and the unusual heating of large areas
in this way doubtless has much to do with hastening the advent of rain.
The expedient of firing the sawgrass ponds is frequently resorted to in
Florida, and has been brought to the notice of the public in official
meteorological reports. It is directly in accordance with the principle
of restoration of the balance of forces, whereby a long heated term is
followed by unusually heavy rains.
But, in contending with subterranean forces, man is hitherto balked.
Numbers of instruments exist for measuring the force and direction of
earthquake shocks, but these can be made of little practical use; for we
have seen that the vibrations travel from forty to one hundred and fifty
miles a minute, according to the nature of the soil. Hence, could we
know a certain shock would travel around the world, it would not be
possible, after it was first felt, to send warning ahead in time to be
of any especial value. But we have seen that unusual disturbances of
this sort are confined to certain regions, and are of constant
recurrence; while in other lands, they are almost unknown. So any one
understands pretty well what risks he runs in any particular district.
The Chinese were the first to invent a seismometer, or instrument for
ascertaining the force and direction of any shock. Their apparatus
consists of an upright pillar bearing a number of dragons’ heads--each
one holding a ball in its mouth. So any slight tilting or vibration of
the pillar would cause a ball to drop on the side toward which the shock
travelled. The distance to which the ball was thrown served as a rude
measure of the force.
Equally simple is Mallet’s contrivance--a number of cylinders of equal
heights and different bases, placed upon a sanded surface. The more
violent the shock, the larger the cylinder thrown down.
But observations of these vibrations, to be of use, must take note of
the myriad tremors that will escape ordinary perceptions, or the powers
of such rude instruments as the above. There are several sorts now used.
Prof. Palmieri, of the Vesuvius Observatory, uses a delicate instrument,
which records the slightest tremor on a dial-plate. The Italians have
also applied the microphone to this work. The delicacy of this
instrument may be imagined, when it is known that by its means a fly can
be heard walking on the floor. So the slightest subterranean noise may
be heard.
These instruments have taught us that the minor tremors increase in
number and intensity as any unusual disturbance of Vesuvius approaches;
just as the Signal Service can detect the gathering of a storm ere it
actually bursts. Remembering also Bravard’s warning of Mendoza, in the
last chapter, it is clear that in certain regions such observations can
be made of practical value to the people at large.
One of the most ingenious apparatus for observing the vibrations of the
soil is that constructed by M. d’Abbadie, at his observatory near the
Pyrenees. A conical cavity forty-six feet deep is excavated in the solid
rock. At the bottom is a basin of mercury. A long-focus lens over this
reflects upon the surface of the ground the image of the metal below.
The slightest tremor is carefully examined by a microscope. In short,
this ingenious Frenchman has applied the reflecting telescope to the
observation of the interior of the earth.
After all, the chief precautions must be of a different type. As already
noticed, long observation has taught the Japanese and others that their
safety depends mainly upon the construction of houses of the lightest
type; when the sea wave is more to be dreaded than the shock. This is
the general principle of building now adopted in countries where
earthquakes are frequent; and doubtless the earthquake is partially
responsible for the fact that many intelligent savage races have made no
progress in architecture.
It should be noted, however, that the ancients believed that deep wells
were a safeguard against earthquakes; such is the expression of several
ancient writers. And in this connection we may mention the remarkable
case of Quito, in Ecuador. Here we have a city of magnificent
cathedrals, public edifices, and other lofty buildings, which have not
in three centuries been overthrown by an earthquake. Yet it lies on the
plateau on which stood Riobamba, where such terrible destruction was
wrought in 1794, and at the base of the great volcano of Pichincha. It
has been shaken time and again more severely than towns in the vicinity
that have been totally destroyed. Yet it remains intact, and the people
have an indifference to earthquakes that is astonishing. They attribute
their safety to the fact of having deep cellars under every house. When
we remember that tropical races are not, as a rule, a cellar building
people, it may be that the idea is worthy of serious consideration. But
many idle races of the tropics might, in lower grounds, merely exchange
the results of an occasional earthquake for malaria-breeding pools.