The Reminiscences of an Astronomer

by Simon Newcomb

An eminent would-be contributor was a prominent Pennsylvania politician, who had read a long and elaborate article, before some teachers' association, on an arithmetical problem about oxen eating grass, the power to solve which was taken as the highest mark of mathematical ability, among school teachers during the first half of the century. The association referred the paper to the editor of the "Mathematical Monthly," by whom it was, I believe, consigned to the wastebasket. The result was a good deal of correspondence, such a proceeding being rather humiliating to a man of eminence who had addressed so distinguished an assembly. The outcome of the matter was that the paper, which was much more in the nature of a legal document than of a mathematical investigation, was greatly reduced in length by its author, and then still further shorn by the editor, until it would fill only two or three pages of the journal; thus reduced, it was published.

The time was not yet ripe for the growth of mathematical science among us, and any development that might have taken place in that direction was rudely stopped by the civil war. Perhaps this may account for the curious fact that, so far as I have ever remarked, none of the student contributors to the journal, Hill excepted, has made himself known as a mathematical investigator. Not only the state of mathematical learning, but the conditions of success at that time in a mathematical text-book, are strikingly illustrated by one of our experiences.

One of the leading publishing houses of educational text-books in the country issued a very complete and advanced series, from the pen of a former teacher of the subject. They were being extensively introduced, and were sent to the "Mathematical Monthly" for review. They were distinguished by quite apt illustrations, well fitted, perhaps, to start the poorly equipped student in the lower branches of the work, but the advanced works, at least, were simply ridiculous. A notice appeared in which the character of the books was pointed out. The evidence of the worthlessness of the entire series was so strong that the publishers had it entirely rewritten by more competent authors. Now came the oddest part of the whole affair. The new series was issued under the name of the same author as the old one, just as if the acknowledgment of his total failure did not detract from the value of his name as an author.

In 1860 a total eclipse of the sun was visible in British America. The shadow of the moon, starting from near Vancouver's Island, crossed the continent in a northeast direction, passed through the central part of the Hudson Bay region, crossed Hudson Bay itself and Greenland, then inclining southward, swept over the Atlantic to Spain. As this was the first eclipse of the kind which had recently been visible, much interest was taken in its observation. On the part of the Nautical Almanac Office I computed the path of the shadow and the times of crossing certain points in it. The results were laid down on a map which was published by the office. One party, fitted out in connection with the American Association for the Advancement of Science, was sent to Greenland. Admiral Davis desired to send another, on behalf of his own office, into the central regions of the continent. As members of this party Mr. Ferrel and myself were chosen. At the request of Professor Agassiz one of the assistants in the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy, Mr. Samuel H. Scudder, accompanied us. More than twenty years later Mr. Scudder published a little book describing some of our adventures, which was illustrated with sketches showing the experiences of a party in the wild West at that time.

Our course lay from St. Paul across Minnesota to the Red River of the North, thence north to Fort Garry near the southern end of Lake Winnipeg, then over the lake and some distance up the Saskatchewan River. At St. Paul we paid our respects to Governor Ramsey, afterward Senator from Minnesota and Secretary of War. We were much surprised at the extraordinary deference paid by the community to a Mr. Burbank, a leading citizen of the town, and owner of the stages which we had to engage for our journey across the country. He seemed to be a man whom every one was afraid to offend. Even the local newspapers were careful what they printed about matters in which he was interested.

The two or three days which we passed in getting things ready to start were rather dull. The morning after our arrival I saw, during a morning walk, on a hill just outside the town, a large new building, on which the word "Athenæum" was conspicuously shown. The Boston Athenæum had a very fine library; is it not possible that this may have a beginning of something of the same sort? Animated by this hope, I went up the hill and entered the building, which seemed to be entirely vacant. The first words that met my eyes were "Bar Room" painted over a door. It was simply a theatre, and I left it much disappointed.

Here we were joined by a young Methodist clergyman,—Edward Eggleston,—and the four of us, with our instruments and appliances, set out on our journey of five days over the plains. On the first day we followed partly the line of a projected railway, of which the embankments had been completed, but on which work had, for some reason, been stopped to await a more prosperous season. Here was our first experience of towns on paper. From the tone in which the drivers talked of the places where we were to stop over night one might have supposed that villages, if not cities, were plentiful along our track. One example of a town at that time will be enough. The principal place on our route, judging from the talk, was Breckenridge. We would reach it at the end of the fourth day, where we anticipated a pleasant change after camping out in our tent for three nights. It was after dark before we arrived, and we looked eagerly for signs of the town we were approaching.

The team at length stopped in front of an object which, on careful examination in the darkness, appeared to be the most primitive structure imaginable. It had no foundations, and if it had a wall at all, it was not more than two or three feet in height. Imagine the roof taken off a house forty feet long and twenty feet wide and laid down on the ground, and you have the hotel and only building, unless perhaps a stable, in Breckenridge at that time. The entrance was at one end. Going in, a chimney was seen in the middle of the building. The floor was little more than the bare ground. On each side of the door, by the flickering light of a fire, we saw what looked like two immense boxes. A second glance showed that these boxes seemed to be filled with human heads and legs. They were, in fact, the beds of the inhabitants of Breckenridge. Beds for the arriving travelers, if they existed at all, which I do not distinctly remember, were in the back of the house. I think the other members of the party occupied that portion. I simply spread my blanket out on the hearth in front of the fire, wrapped up, and slept as soundly as if the bed was the softest of a regal palace.

At Fort Garry we were received by Governor McTavish, with whom Captain Davis had had some correspondence on the subject of our expedition, and who gave us letters to the "factors" of the Hudson Bay Company scattered along our route. We found that the rest of our journey would have to be made in a birch bark canoe. One of the finest craft of this class was loaned us by the governor. It had been, at some former time, the special yacht of himself or some visiting notable. It was manned by eight half-breeds, men whose physical endurance I have never seen equaled.

It took three or four days to get everything ready, and this interval was, of course, utilized by Scudder in making his collections. He let the fishermen of the region know that he wanted specimens of every kind of fish that could be found in the lake. A very small reward stirred them into activity, and, in due time, the fish were brought to the naturalist,—but lo! all nicely dressed and fit for cooking. They were much surprised when told that all their pains in dressing their catch had spoiled it for the purposes of the visiting naturalist, who wanted everything just as it was taken from the water.