INTERLUDES
Naturally Percival’s observations of Mars, and still more the
conclusions he drew from them, provoked widespread attention among
astronomers, some of whom were convinced, while some withheld judgment
and others were very frankly disbelievers. This did not amaze him, for
he felt that new ideas made their way slowly, and had always done so. He
met objections, argued his case and expected ultimate acceptance of his
views. Perhaps not less naturally the popular interest was also great.
Newspapers as well as periodicals all over America, in England, France,
Germany and other countries, published and discussed his views,
especially, of course, on the existence of intelligent beings on Mars
and their artificial canals upon its surface. Marconi was reported as
saying that within a few years we should be in wireless communication
with them.
Meanwhile his life had been going on at the usual furious pace;
lecturing here and there; writing for scientific journals, mostly, but
not wholly, on planets, satellites etc.; managing his own property and
his father’s estate; keeping in constant touch with his computers in
Boston and his observers at Flagstaff, worrying over the health of one
of them whom he urges to take a vacation and recruit; and also standing
his watch as observer himself. A watch it was, “Jupiter before dinner
and Mars at 4 A.M.” There was also a large correspondence with
astronomers and others who were interested in his work. To one of the
latter he writes on December 14, 1907: “In answer to your note of Dec.
5, which has been forwarded to me here, I beg to say that the best and
final education must always be given by one’s self.”
Although the canals had already been photographed, he was not yet free
from the doubters of the actuality of his observations, for on May 15th
of that year we find him writing to Professor Simon Newcomb—then at the
height of his great reputation who had suggested that the comparative
continuity of the canals was an optical illusion, a long letter giving
the reasons for believing that this could not be so, but that they must
be as observed.[32] The proof of this he was seeking to make more clear,
and in this same year he sent Dr. Slipher, with Professor Todd of
Amherst College, on an expedition to the Andes to take more photographs
of Mars, which appeared in the _Century_ for December.
But it was not all work. The hospitality of the Observatory was kept up;
visiting astronomers and friends lent a gayety to the place. Mr. George
Agassiz, for example, long his friend in many labors, was there for many
months in 1907 and 1909, helping greatly in his observations;[33] the
late Professor Edward S. Morse at sundry times, and Professor Robert W.
Willson in 1909 and 1914. He was also in kindly relations with his
neighbors, who were “courteous enough to ask me to talk, and I am deep
in addresses.” In fact some of them were constantly urging him to stand
for Senator from the State. He was interested also in children, and in
March, 1908, he is sending word to Dr. Slipher about a little girl from
Texas eight years old who is to pass through Flagstaff, and asks
permission to look through his big telescope as she “just loves
astronomy.” He was fond of telling about his meeting a negro tending
chickens to whom he suggested keeping a watch on them the next day
because they would go to roost about eleven o’clock; and they did, for
there was an eclipse of the sun. Some days later he met the negro again,
who expressed astonishment at his knowing in advance that the chickens
would go to roost, and asked if he had known it a week before. Yes, he
had known it then. “Did you know it a month before?” “Yes, I knew it a
month before.” “Did you know it a year before?” “Yes, I knew it a year
before.” “But those chickens weren’t born then!” Had he lived to the
present day he might have discovered a resemblance to some tendencies in
ideas about the present depression.
Nor were his thoughts confined to this country, for in August, 1905, he
writes to a friend: “I go to Japan this autumn, but how and when I have
not yet decided.” His old interest remained, and in April 1908, he
arranged an exhibition in Boston by a Shinto priest of walking over hot
coals and up a ladder of sword blades. “The place,” he says, “was full
and the audience gratified at being asked. While in the distance people
outside the pale stood on carts and boys even to the tops of far off
houses, one perched on the tip of a chimney. Dr. Suga cut himself
slightly but not seriously. He did very well considering, though it was
not possible of course for a poor lone priest to come up to what he
might have done in Japan. The rite was beautifully set forth and the
setting of the whole enclosure worthy the most artistic people in the
world. Policemen kept out the crowd and stared aghast, and altogether it
was a relished function.”
He probably would have been greatly grieved had he been told that he
would never revisit the land where he had spent so much of his earlier
life and thought; but astronomy was now his dominant occupation, and was
constantly presenting new questions to engross his attention and fill
his time. Yet in the years when Mars was not in opposition this did not
prevent, indeed it rather stimulated, visits to Europe, where he saw his
astronomical friends, and lectured on his discoveries; for he was a
member of the National Astronomic Societies of France and Germany, had
received from the former in 1904 the Janssen medal for his researches on
Mars, and in 1907 Mr. Lampland that of the Royal Photographic Society of
Great Britain for the work on the planets. We find him across the ocean
in the summer of 1906, lunching with Sir Robert Ball in Cambridge,
Deslandres and Flammarion in Paris, and “pegging away” there at his
lectures.
Two years later, on June 10, 1908, he married Miss Constance Savage
Keith, and they went abroad at the end of the month. When in London they
met his first cousin, A. Lawrence Rotch, the meteorologist, who like him
had established and directed, at his own expense, an observatory for the
study of his subject; in this case on Blue Hill near Boston. Percival
wanted to photograph measurable lines to see how they appeared in a
camera from the air. So he went up with his cousin in a balloon, and
obtained photographs of the paths in Hyde Park which came out very well.
His wife also went up with them; and, what with his reputation, the
ascent in a balloon and their recent marriage, the event was too much
for a reporter to resist; and there appeared in a newspaper an imaginary
picture of an astronomer and a bride in a wedding dress taking their
honeymoon in the basket of a balloon. They travelled together in
England, Switzerland, Germany and France, and she recalls, when he was
giving a lecture at the Sorbonne, a sudden exclamation from a Frenchman
directly behind her: “Why! He is even clever in French!”
Mrs. Lowell has written an account of the diligence, the enthusiasm, the
hardships of Percival and his colleagues, and the spirit of Flagstaff:
“In October, soon after our return from Europe, I discovered that the
scientist’s motto is—“Time is sacred.” I was to meet him on the train
for Flagstaff leaving the South Station at 2 P.M.; anxious to impress
him with my reputation for being punctual, I boarded the train about ten
minutes before two. Percival came into the car, holding his watch in his
hand, just about two minutes before two. He turned to me: “What time
were you here?” I answered triumphantly: “Oh, I got here about ten
minutes ago.” His reply was: “I consider that just as unpunctual as to
be late. Think how much could have been accomplished in ten minutes!” I
have never forgotten that remark. Percival never wasted minutes.
“Late in the afternoon of the third day, as we were nearing Flagstaff,
through the dusk we could see that there had been a heavy fall of snow,
so deep that when the train stopped our Pullman, being far in the rear,
was where the snow—not having been shovelled—was almost level with the
upper step. The men from the Observatory were there, and their first
words were ‘Seeing Good.’ Percival jumped into the deep snow, and taking
Mr. E. C. Slipher with him, drove to the telescope.
“Astronomers take much for granted so far as the details of domestic
life are concerned, and I made up my mind to be a help and not a
hindrance. Dr. V. M. Slipher’s wife came to the rescue, and under her
supervision things were soon adjusted even to a hot supper and
preparation for breakfast the next morning. She was, and always is, a
wonder. Though the wife be not an astronomer a happy asset is it if she
can appreciate her husband’s work, his sacrifices and self-denials. Many
times have I seen their frost-bitten ears and thumbs; hungry and tired
men, but never complaining—patience personified. They are slaves to the
laws that rule the celestial.
“The house we lived in on Mars Hill was a long rambling one, both roof
and sides shingled. Inside all but two rooms were finished, and
partitioned. Two were papered; one of them I papered because no paper
hanger happened to be in town. Occasionally Percival would come in to
see how the work was progressing, and help by steadying the ladder or
stirring the paste. The sitting room—or den, as it was referred to more
often—was lined with half logs from which the bark had not been
stripped. In the ceiling were logs used as beams. During the evening,
when all was quiet, one might hear insects busily working out some
scheme of their own. Open spaces were beamed and, as the logs did not
exactly fit, through the spaces trade-rats would descend from the attic.
“To love nature, and the one for whom one works, it matters not where
one is; that is what one realizes when on Mars Hill. One learns to go
without things. They seem of such minor importance to that for which the
men are seeking; one gets ashamed of oneself to think otherwise. Each
man moves with a definite purpose, indefatigable workers, no thought of
themselves when skies are clear, always watching, cold or torrid heat
makes no difference, work goes on just the same.
“I became deeply impressed with the necessity of obedience to laws. I
said once to Percival that I had been asked if it were true that he was
an atheist, a non-believer. His answer was that he believed in keeping
the laws; what chaos would happen if they were not. Often he would quote
passages from the Bible—[Genesis I, 14-20]. The laws made on Mount
Sinai, he said, are still the same laws to obey. To live in the
atmosphere of such men accomplishing great things, deprived of many
material comforts, makes one feel humble and spurs one on to ‘Help and
not to hinder.’
“Servants we often had to do without. They would come out with us, and
then after a few days, learning of the nearness to the Pacific coast,
the lure of California would bring from them some lame excuse to leave,
at once! To obtain others, when none were to be had in the town, I would
have to go to Los Angeles. Finally, after several had left, I persuaded
Percival to let me try to do the cooking; and later he would refer to
that time as happy peaceful days. With the help of the kind wives, Mrs.
Slipher and Mrs. Lampland, I learned much, how to make bread and
soup,—two very essential articles in our household,—and to get up
camping outfits and quick meals for unexpected guests.
“Lonesome, monotonous—never. Distant as Mars Hill may be from large
cities, something of interest was happening continually. The State
Normal School of Arizona is in the town, and on certain nights classes
of students were brought up the hill to look through the telescope.
Flagstaff is on the main line of the Santa Fe. There were three incoming
trains from the East each day, and as many from the West, and many
people stop off there to visit the different points of interest, the
Lowell Observatory being one.
“In August, 1910, a group of astronomers, representing the International
Union for Coöperation in Solar Research, debarked from the train, on
their way to Pasadena; Professor Herbert H. Turner from England among
them. He it was who many years later suggested for Percival’s ‘Planet X’
the name Pluto. The group, of about thirty, arrived by the first morning
train and stayed at the Observatory until the last train left at night.
The one thing that I was successful in getting enough of for lunch and
dinner was watermelon. It proved a happy hit; for a year or two
afterward, when telling how much they enjoyed their visit, the
watermelons were spoken of as being such a treat. It was a hot day and
the melons were cold; probably that explained their enthusiasm.
“One Christmas we invited all the children of Flagstaff to come to the
Observatory for a Christmas tree and supper. Percival dressed as Santa
Claus and spoke to them down the chimney; then he came down into the
Library where they were gathered about the tree, and gave a present and
candy to every child. That was twenty-seven years ago. When I was in
Flagstaff this spring, the little child I had held in my lap while
Percival read ‘The Night Before Christmas’ came to speak to me and told
me never would she forget that Christmas, and that her two little
children repeatedly asked her to tell them the story of that Christmas
and all that happened at the Santa Claus party on Mars Hill.”
In a recent letter to Mrs. Lowell, Dr. Lampland also gives a glimpse
into Percival’s life at Flagstaff; and though written to refresh her
recollections she preferred to insert it as it stands.
“Fresh in memory and pleasant to recall are your many visits to
Flagstaff and your activities at the Observatory, where you were
designing and supervising architect, carrying through the additions to
the director’s residence, the garage, and the new administration
building. And I also remember your valued help to us in connection with
the house in which we live and your telegram ‘Mr. Lowell gives
benediction and sanction to plans. Proceed.’”
He then goes on to tell of Percival’s friends from both West and East,
and continues:
“You remember he was an enthusiastic gardener and always had a garden
here at the Observatory. He had great success with many flowers and I
recall especially fine displays of hollyhocks, zinnias, and a
considerable variety of bulbs. Gourds, squashes and pumpkins were also
great favorites. You will remember one year the especially fine
collection of gourds and that bumper crop of huge pumpkins, many prize
specimens being sugar fed. At times Dr. Lowell could be seen in the
short intervals he took for outdoor recreation, busy with his little
camel’s hair brush pollenizing some of the flowers. And perhaps you will
remember the little record book lying on the back veranda containing his
observations of the daily growth of the diameter of the gourds, all
measured carefully with little calipers. Then the frequent, almost
daily, walks on the mesa. Certainly he knew all the surrounding country
better than anyone here. He would refer to the different places such as
Wolf Canyon, Amphitheatre Canyon, Indian Paint Brush Ridge, Holly
Ravine, Mullein Patch, etc. In these walks he seemed to be constantly
observing something new and of course trees, flowers, and wild life
always interested him. Trees were an endless source of interest to him
and he took many trips to more distant localities for these studies.
Cedars or junipers seemed to be favorite subjects for study, though
other varieties or kinds were not overlooked. An oak and an ash were
named after him, new species that were discovered on the Observatory
mesa and in Sycamore Canyon.
“At every season of the year he always found something in wild life to
fascinate him, and you will remember his observations and notes of
butterflies, birds, squirrels, rabbits, coyotes, deer and other
inhabitants of the mesa. These friends must never be disturbed or
harmed. But it was permissible to hunt with a camera! And he himself
delighted with his kodak, photographing footprints, etc., and often
attempting to get exposures of the creatures themselves. The Observatory
grounds were a sanctuary for wild life.
“For many of us an interesting side of eminent personages is to know
something about their activities, such for example as reading, outside
of their professional occupations. In Dr. Lowell’s case you should find
ample opportunity to treat a subject that will not admit of monotony. It
would seem that practically every field of knowledge interested him. For
the lighter reading as a relaxing and restful diversion you will
remember the full bookshelves of detective stories, travel, exploration,
etc. Accounts of adventure and discoveries, if well written, were
welcome to his list of miscellaneous reading. The Latin classics were
always near at hand, and widely and well had he read them, and much were
they prized as friends in his later life.
“As you know, it is not easy for the observing astronomer to lead a
strictly regular life in that the hours at the telescope often make it
necessary to use, for the much needed rest, part of the daily hours
usually given to work. His intense occupation with his research
problems, however, was broken with great regularity for short intervals
before lunch and dinner. These times of recreation were given to walks
on the mesa or work in the garden. When night came, if he was not
occupied at the telescope, he was generally to be found in his den. It
was not always possible for him to lay aside his research problems at
this time of the day, but he did have some wholesome views on the
necessity of recreation and a necessary amount of leisure to prevent a
person from falling into the habit of the ‘grind.’ To those who came to
his den the picture of some difficult technical work near his chair,
such as Tisserand’s _Mechanique Celeste_ will be recalled, though he
might at the time be occupied with reading of a lighter character. And
occasionally during the evening he might be seen consulting certain
difficult parts upon which he was pondering....
“The famous outing to the White Mountains was often the subject of much
amusement at the dinner parties when Dr. Lowell and Judge Doe were both
there. In later years that famous expedition seemed to be an
inexhaustible source of fun—the voracious mosquitoes, the discomforts of
a camp and beds under water, atrocious coffee, and so on!!
“And this reminds me of many dinner parties on Dr. Lowell’s and Judge
Doe’s birthdays. These were jolly gatherings, and the brilliant repartee
passing between Dr. Lowell and the Judge was a great delight to those
who were present.
“Many things about the place often remind me of the intensely busy days
before Dr. Lowell passed away. There were several excursions for his
tree studies, to Sycamore Canyon, an arduous trip, and to other
localities near Flagstaff for further studies of different species of
junipers in their native habitat. The specimens were carefully sorted
and packed for Professor Sargent of the Arnold Arboretum. Then I
remember helping him plant many bulbs on the last two days before he was
fatally stricken. The squills he planted at that time in the little bed
under the oak tree near the entrance of the B. M. return every
spring.”[34]