I am aware that attention has already been called in the daily
newspapers to certain curious features of the astronomical discussion
between Professor Macadam of Joplin University and Professor Morgan of
the same institution; but newspaper comment has related only to the
scientific aspects of the case, lacking all references to the origin of
the debate and to the inevitable woman and the romance. As a matter of
fact, the discussion which has set the scientific world, or at least the
astronomical part of it, by the ears, had its inception in a love
affair, and terminated with that affair's symmetrical development. It
has seemed to me that something more than the dry husks of the story
should be given to the public, and that a great many people might be
quite as much interested in the romance as in the mathematical
conclusions reached. That is why I tell the tale in full.
Had Professor Macadam never owned a daughter, or had the one
appertaining to him been plain instead of charming, young Professor
Morgan would never have broken a metaphorical lance with the crusty
senior educator. But Professor Macadam did have a daughter, Lee--odd
name for a girl--and she was about as pretty as a girl may grow to be,
and sometimes they grow that way amazingly. She was clever, too, and
good, and Professor Morgan had not known her for half a year when it was
all up with him. It became essential for his permanent welfare, mental,
moral and physical, that this particular young woman should be his, to
have and to hold, and he did not deny the fact to himself at all.
Without going into detail, it may be added that he did not deny the fact
to her, either, and so exerted himself and improved his opportunities
that before much time elapsed he had secured a strong ally in his
designs. This ally was the young lady herself, and it will be admitted
that Professor Morgan had thus made a fair beginning. But all was not to
be easy for the pair, however faithful or resolved they were.
College professors generally are not much addicted to either the
accumulation or the love of money, but Professor Macadam was rather an
exception to the rule. Sixty years of age, noted as a great
mathematician and astronomer, he had long had a good income from his
teaching and his books, and had hoarded and made good investments, and
was a rich man. Lee, being an only child, was in fair way some day of
coming into a fortune, and her father was resolved that it should not go
to any poor man. He had often expressed his opinion on this subject; it
was well known to the lovers, but this did not prevent Professor
Morgan, who was just beginning and had only a fair salary with no
surplus, from asking the old man for his daughter.
The interview was not a long one, but there was a good deal of low
barometer and high temperature to it, meteorologically speaking.
Professor Macadam fumed, and flatly declined to consider the subject of
such an alliance. "It is absurd!" he said. "What would you live on?"
Professor Morgan intimated that two people might sustain themselves in a
modest way on the salary he was getting.
"Nonsense, sir! Nonsense!" was the retort. "My daughter has been
accustomed to a better style of living than you could afford her, and I
decline to consider the proposition for a moment. You're in no condition
to support a wife, sir! Figures do not lie, sir! Figures do not lie!"
Professor Morgan suggested that figures sometimes did give a wrong
impression.
"Then it is because they are used by an incompetent person. I am
surprised that you, sir, assistant professor of astronomy in a great
institution of learning, should assert that any mathematical fact is not
an actual one. Prove to me that figures lie, and you can have my
daughter! But this is only nonsense. You are presumptuous and something
of an ass, sir. Good day, sir!"
When Professor Morgan imparted to his sweetheart the result of this
interesting interview, they were both somewhat cast down. It was she who
first recovered.
"And so papa said you could have me, did he, if you could prove to him
that figures ever lied?"
"Yes, he said that, though I don't suppose he meant it. It was simply a
sort of defiance he blurted out in his anger. But what difference does
it make? How could I prove an impossibility in any event, even if such a
grotesque challenge were accepted in earnest? When I said to him that
figures might give wrong impressions, it was only to convey the idea
that people who cared very much for each other might get along with very
little money, and that the ordinary estimates for necessary income did
not apply."
"You don't know papa! He'll keep his word, even one uttered in
excitement. He has almost a superstition regarding the literal
observance of any promise made, though it might be accidental and really
meaning nothing. You are very clever--as great a mathematician as papa
is. You must prove to him that figures sometimes really lie, even where
computations are all correct. Surely, there must be some way of doing
that."
"I'm afraid not, dear. The moon isn't made of green cheese."
"But there must be some way, and you must find it. You shall be like a
knight of old, who is to gain a maiden's hand by the accomplishment of
some great deed of derring-do. Am I not worth it, sir?" And she stood
before him jauntily, with her pretty elbows out.
He looked down into a face so fair and so full of all fealty and promise
of sweet wifehood that he resolved in an instant that if it lay in human
power to meet the terms of the old man's challenge the thing should be
accomplished. He said as much, and what he said was punctuated labially.
Being a professor, it would never have done for him to neglect his
punctuation.
It was not three months after the stormy Macadam-Morgan interview that
Professor Morgan's great book on "Eclipses Past and to Come" made its
appearance. And it was not three weeks after that great work's
appearance when all the scientific world was in a turmoil.
Professor Macadam had, for a season after the interview between him and
Professor Morgan, maintained a cold and formal air in all his
intercourse with the latter gentleman, but after a time this wore away,
and the old relations, never very familiar, were resumed. Indeed, it
seemed at length that Professor Macadam had forgotten all about the
affair, or if he remembered it at all, did so only as of an exhibition
of foolishness which his own force and wisdom had checked forever. When
therefore Professor Morgan's book appeared it was read at once with
interest, as the work of a scientist, who, though not a veteran, was of
undeniable ability and good repute.
But when the book had been considered there was a literary earthquake!
Professor Macadam reviewed it, and sought to tear it, figuratively, limb
from limb! He was ably supported by other pundits everywhere. The point
upon which the debate hinged was a remarkable one.
As already indicated, Professor Morgan's standing as an astronomer was
undisputed, and Professor Macadam did not question the accuracy of his
reasoning, so far as mere computations went. It is known, even to the
non-scientific, that eclipses of the moon can be foretold with the
utmost accuracy; and not only this, but that astronomers can readily
determine, by the same methods reversed, when eclipses of the moon have
occurred at any time in the past. It was to one of Professor Morgan's
past eclipses that Professor Macadam objected.
In a long-ago issue of a great foreign review, M. Camille Flammarion,
the French astronomer, advanced the view that this globe has been
inhabited twenty-two millions of years, which is accepted by other
scientists as a fair estimate. It is also admitted that the moon was at
one time part of the earth, and was hurled off into space before the
crust upon this body had fairly cooled. Of course, there is no way of
fixing the exact date of this interesting event, but for the sake of
convenience it is put at about one hundred millions of years ago. It may
have been a little earlier or a little later. But that does not matter.
In the table of dates of past eclipses in Professor Morgan's book he
referred to a certain eclipse of the moon which occurred about two
hundred millions of years before Christ, and not a flaw could be
discovered in his figuring. But Professor Macadam did not hesitate to
make a charge. He asserted with great vehemence that as there was no
moon two hundred millions of years before Christ, there could have been
no eclipse of the moon. Had there been an eclipse of the moon then, he
admitted that the eclipse would have taken place at just the time
Professor Morgan's table indicated; but as the case was, he referred to
such an event contemptuously as "an Irish eclipse," and was extremely
scathing in his language. His review closed with an expression of regret
that an educator connected with the great Joplin University could have
been guilty of such an error, not of figures, but of logic.
Professor Morgan replied to all his critics, Professor Macadam included,
in a masterly article, in which he declared that he was responsible only
for his mathematics, not for the degree of cohesion of the earth's mucky
mass hundreds of millions of years ago, and that the eclipse he had
calculated must stand.
Professor Macadam came to the charge once more, briefly but savagely.
He again admitted the correctness of the computation, but ridiculed
Professor Morgan's attitude on the subject. "His figures," he concluded,
"simply lie."
The day following the appearance of Professor Macadam's final article,
he was called upon in his study by Professor Morgan. The younger man did
not present the appearance of a crushed controversialist. On the
contrary, his air was pleasantly expectant. "I called," said he, "to
learn how soon you expected my marriage with your daughter to take
place?"
The older man started in his seat, "What do you mean, sir?" he demanded.
"Why, I called simply to discuss my marriage with your daughter. On the
occasion when you refused my first proposition you said that if I proved
that figures would lie your consent would be forthcoming. I have proved
to you that figures sometimes lie. I have not only your own admission,
but your assertion to that effect, made public in the columns of a great
quarterly. I know you to be a man of your word. I have come to talk
about my marriage."
Professor Macadam did not at once reply. His face became very red. "I
must talk with my daughter," he said finally.
That afternoon Professor Macadam and his daughter had an interview. The
young lady proved very firm. She would listen to no equivocation and no
protest. She had thought her father to be a man of honor--that was all
she had to say. She touched the old gentleman upon his weak point. He
yielded, not gracefully, but that was of no moment. She and Professor
Morgan, just then, had grace enough for an entire family--in their
hearts.
And so they were married. And so, too, you know the origin of one of the
most exciting scientific discussions of the period.