I. First Appearances
In the last chapter we saw how badly
off for water Mars, to all appearance, is; so badly off that inhabitants
of that other world would have to irrigate to live. As to the
actual presence there of such folk, the broad physical characteristics
of the planet express no opinion beyond the silence of consent,
but they have something very vital to say about the conditions
under which alone their life could be led. They show that these
conditions must be such that in the Martian mind there would be
one question perpetually paramount to all the local labor, women's
suffrage, and Eastern questions put together--the water question.
How to procure water enough to support life would be the great
communal problem of the day.
Were Mars like the Earth, we might
well despair of detecting signs of any Martians for some time
yet. Across the gulf of space that separates us from Mars, an
area thirty miles wide would just be perceptible as a dot. It
would, in such case, be hopeless to look for evidence of folk.
Anything like London or New, York, or even Chicago in its own
estimation would be too small to be seen, so sorry a figure does
man cut upon the Earth he thinks to own. From the standpoint of
forty millions of miles distance, probably the only sign of his
presence here would be such semi-artificialities as the great
grain-fields of the West when their geometric patches turned with
the changing seasons from ochre to green, and then from green
to gold. By his crops we should know him. A tell-tale fact this,
for it would be still more likely to be the case with Mars. If
the surface of the planet were cultivated at all, it would probably
be upon a much more thorough plan than is the case with the Earth.
Conditions hold there which would necessitate a much more artificial
state of things. If cultivation there be, it must be cultivation
largely dependent upon a system of irrigation, and therefore much
more systematic than any we have as yet been forced to adopt.
Now, at this point in our investigation,
when the broad features of Mars disclose conditions which imply
irrigation as their organic corollary, we are suddenly confronted
on the planet's face with phenomena so startlingly suggestive
of this very thing as to seem its uncanny presentment. Indeed,
so amazingly lifelike is their appearance that, had we possessed
our present knowledge of the planet's physical condition before,
we might almost have predicted what we see as criterion of the
presence of living beings. What confronts us is this: --
When the great continental areas,
the reddish-ochre portions of the disk, are attentively examined
in sufficiently steady air, their desert-like ground is seen to
be traversed by a network of fine, straight, dark lines. The lines
start from points on the coast of the blue-green regions, commonly
well-marked bays, and proceed directly to what seem centres in
the middle of the continent, since most surprisingly they meet
there other lines that have come to the same spot with apparently
a like determinate intent. And this state of things is not confined
to any one part of the planet, but takes place all over the reddish-ochre
regions.
The lines appear either absolutely
straight from one end to the other, or curved in an equally uniform
manner. There is nothing haphazard in the look of any of them.
Plotting upon a globe betrays them to be arcs of great circles
almost invariably, even the few outstanding exceptions seeming
to be but polygonal combinations of the same. Their most instantly
conspicuous characteristic is this hopeless lack of happy irregularity.
They are, each and all, direct to a degree. The lines are
as fine as they are straight. As a rule, they are of scarcely
any perceptible breadth, seeming on the average to be less than
a Martian degree, or about thirty miles wide. They differ slightly
among themselves, some being a little broader than this; some
a trifle finer, possibly not above fifteen miles across. Their
length, not their breadth, renders them visible; for though at
such a distance we could not distinguish a dot less than thirty
miles in diameter, we could see a line of much less breadth, because
of its length. Speaking generally, however, the lines are all
of comparable width.
Still greater uniformity is observable
in different parts of the same line; for each line maintains its
individual width, from one end of its course to the other. Although,
at and near the point where it leaves the dark regions, some slight
enlargement seems to occur, after it has fairly started on its
course, it remains of substantially the same size throughout.
As to whether the lines are even on their edges or not, I should
not like to say; but the better they are seen, the more even they
look. It is not possible to affirm positively on the point, as
they are practically nearer one dimension than two.
On the other hand, their length
is usually great, and in cases enormous. A thousand or fifteen
hundred miles may be considered about the average. The Ganges,
for example, which is not a long one as Martian canals go, is
about 1,450 miles in length. The Brontes, one of the newly discovered,
radiating from the Gulf of the Titans, extends over 2,400 miles;
while, among really long ones, the Eumenides, with its continuation
the Orcus, the two being in truth one line, measures 3,540 miles
from the point where it leaves the Phoenix Lake to the point where
it enters the Trivium Charontis,--throughout this whole distance,
nearly equal to the diameter of the planet, deviating neither
to the right nor to the left from the great circle upon which
it set out. On the other hand, the shortest line is the Nectar,
which is only about 250 miles in length; sweetness being, according
to Schiaparelli its christener, as short-lived on Mars as elsewhere.
That, with very few exceptions,
the lines all follow arcs of great circles is proved,--first,
by the fact that, when not too long, they show as straight lines;
second, that, when seen near this limb, they appear curved, in
keeping with the curvature of a spherical surface viewed obliquely;
third, that, when the several parts of some of the longer lines
are plotted upon a globe, they turn out to lie in one great circle.
Apparent straightness throughout is only possible in comparatively
short lines. For a very long arc upon the surface of a revolving
globe tilted toward the observer to appear straight it, or
its prolongation, must pass through the centre of the disk at
the moment. Such, of course, is rarely the case. At times, however,
the conditions are strikingly fulfilled by the great canal called
the Titan. The Titan starts from the Gulf of the Titans, in south
latitude 20 degrees, and runs north almost exactly upon the 169th
meridian for an immense distance. I have followed it over 2,300
miles down the disk to about 43 degrees north, as far as the tilt
of the planet's axis would permit. As the rotation of the planet
swings it round, it passes the central meridian of the disk simultaneously
throughout its length, and at that moment comes out so strikingly
straight it seems a substantialized meridian itself.
Although each line is the arc of
a great circle, the direction taken by this great circle may be
any whatsoever. The Titan, as we have seen runs nearly due north
and south. Certain canals crossing this run, on the contrary,
almost due east and west. There are others again, belting the
disk at well-nigh every angle between these two extremes. Nor
is there any preponderance, apparently, for one direction as against
any other. This indifference to direction is important as showing
that the rotation of the planet has no bearing upon the inclination
of the canals.
But, singular as each line looks
to be by itself, it is the systematic network of the whole
that is most amazing. Each line not only goes with wonderful directness
from one point to another, but at this latter spot it contrives
to meet, exactly, another line which has come with like directness
from quite a different direction. Nor do two only manage thus
to rendezvous. Three, four, five, and even seven will similarly
fall in on the same spot,--a gregariousness which, to a greater
or less extent, finds effective possibility all over the surface
of the planet. The disk is simply a network of such intersections.
Sometimes a canal goes only from one intersection to another;
more commonly it starts with right of continuation, and, after
reaching the first rendezvous, goes on in unchanged course to
several more.
The result is that the whole of
the great reddish-ochre portions of the planet is cut up into
a series of spherical triangles of all possible sizes and shapes.
What their number may be lies quite beyond the possibility of
count at present; for the better our own air, the more of them
are visible. About four times as many as are down on Schiaparelli's
chart of the same regions have been seen at Flagstaff. But, before
proceeding further with a description of these Martian phenomena,
the history of their discovery deserves to be sketched here, since
it is as strange as the canals themselves.
The first hint the world had of
their existence was when Schiaparelli saw some of the lines in
1877, now eighteen years ago. The world, however, was anything
but prepared for the revelation, and, when he announced what he
had seen, promptly proceeded to disbelieve him. Schiaparelli had
the misfortune to be ahead of his times, and the yet greater misfortune
to remain so; for not only did no one else see the lines at that
opposition, but no one else succeeded in doing so at subsequent
ones. For many years fate allowed Schiaparelli to have them all
to himself, a confidence he amply repaid. While other's doubted,
he went from discovery to discovery. What he had seen in 1877
was not so very startling in view of what he afterward saw. His
first observations might well have been of simple estuaries, long
natural creeks running up into the continents, and even cutting
them in two. His later observations were too peculiar to be explained,
even by so improbable a configuration of the Martian surface.
In 1879 the canali, as he called them (channels, or canals,
the word may be translated, and it is in the latter sense that
he now regards them), showed straighter and narrower than they
had in 1877: this not in consequence of any change in them, but
from his own improved faculty of detection; for what the eye has
once seen it can always see better a second time. As he gazed
they appeared straighter, and he made out more. Lastly, toward
the end of the year, he observed one evening what struck even
him as a most startling phenomenon,-- the twinning of one of the
canals: two parallel canals suddenly showed where but a single
one had showed before. The paralleling was so perfect that he
suspected optical illusion. He could, however, discover none by
changing his telescopes or eye-pieces. The phenomenon, apparently,
was real.
At the next opposition he looked
to see if by chance he should mark a repetition of the strange
event, and went, as he tells us, from surprise to surprise; for
one after another of his canals proceeded startlingly to become
two, until some twenty of them had thus doubled. This capped the
climax to his own wonderment, and, it is needless to add, to other
people's incredulity; for nobody else had yet succeeded in seeing
the canals at all, let alone seeing them double. Undeterred by
the general skepticism, he confirmed at each fresh opposition
his previous discoveries, which, in view of the fact that no one
else did, tended in astronomical circles to an opposite result.
For nine years he labored thus alone,
having his visions all to himself. It was not till 1886 that any
one but he saw the canals. In April of that year Perrotin, at
Nice, first did so. The occasion was the setting up of the great Nice
glass of twenty-nine inches aperture. In spite of the great size
of the glass, however, a first attempt resulted in nothing but
failure. So, later, did a second, and Perrotin was on the point
of abandoning the search for good, when, on the 15th of the month,
he suddenly detected one of the canals, the Phison. His assistant,
M. Thollon, saw it immediately afterward. After this they managed
to make out several others, some single, some double, substantially
as Schiaparelli had drawn them; the slight discrepancies between
their observations and his being in point of fact the best of
confirmations.
Since then, other observers have
contrived to detect the canals, the list of the successful increasing
at each opposition, although even now their number might almost
be told on one's hands and feet.
The reason that so few astronomers
have as yet succeeded in seeing these lines is to be found in
our own atmosphere. That in ordinary atmosphere the lines are
not easy objects is certain. A moderately good air is essential
to their detection; and unfortunately the locations of most of
our observatories preclude this prerequisite. Size of aperture
of the telescope used is a very secondary matter. That Schiaparelli
discovered the canals with an 8 1/3-inch glass, and that the 26-inch
glass at Washington has refused to show them to this day,
are facts that speak emphatically on the point.
The importance of atmosphere in
the study of planetary detail is far from being appreciated. It
is not simply question of a clear air, but of a steady one. To
detect fine detail, the atmospheric strata must be as evenly disposed
as possible.
Next in importance to a steady air
comes attentive perception on the part of the observer. The steadiest
air we can find is in a state of almost constant fluctuation.
In consequence, revelations of detail come only to those who patiently
watch for the few good moments among the many poor. Nor do I believe
even average air to be entirely without such happy exceptions
to a general blur. In these brief moments perseverance will show
the canals as faint streaks. To see them as they are, however,
an atmosphere possessing moments of really distinct vision is
imperative. For the canals to come out in all their fineness and
geometrical precision, the air must be steady enough to show the
markings on the planet's disk with the clear-cut character of
a steel engraving. No one who has not seen the planet thus can
pass upon the character of these lines.
Although skepticism as to the existence
of the so-called canals has been now pretty well dispelled by
these and other observations, disbelief still makes a desperate
stand against their peculiar appearance, dubbing accounts of their
straightness and duplication as sensational, whatever they may
mean in such connection; for that they are both straight and double,
as described, is certain,--a statement I make after having seen
them, instead of before doing so, as is the case with the gifted
objectors. Doubt, however, will not wholly cease till more people
have seen them, which will not happen till the importance of atmosphere
in the study of planetary detail is more generally appreciated
than it is to-day. To look for the canals with a large instrument
in poor air is like trying to read a page of fine print kept dancing
before one's eyes, with the additional disadvantage that increase
of magnification increases the motion. Advance in our study of
other worlds depends upon choosing the very best atmospheric sites
for our observatories.
It is interesting to recall, in
connection with this incredulity about the canals, that precisely
the same thing happened in the case of the discovery of Jupiter's
satellites and with Huyghens' explanation of Saturn's ring. We
are apt to imagine that our age of the world has a monopoly of
skepticism. But this is a mistake. The spirit that denies has
always been abroad; only in early days he was reputed to be the
devil.
II. Map and Catalogue
As we shall now have to call these
Martian things by their names,--our names, that is,--it may be
well to consider cursorily the nomenclature which has been evolved
on the subject. Unfortunately, the planet has been quite too much
benamed,--benamed, indeed, out of all recognition. There are no
less than five or six systems current for its general topographical
features. The result is that it has become something of a specialty
just to know the names. The Syrtis Major, for example, appears
under the following aliases: the Syrtis Major, the Mer du Sablier,
the Kaiser Sea, the Northern Sea, to say nothing of translations
of these, such as the Hourglass Sea; after which ample baptism
it is a trifle disconcerting to have the sea turn out, apparently,
not to be a sea at all. Everybody has tried his hand at naming
the planet, first and last; naming a thing being man's nearest
approach to creating it. Proctor made a chart of the planet, and
named it thoroughly; Flammarion made another chart, and also named
it thoroughly, but differently; Green drew a third map, and gave
it a third set of names ; Schiaparelli followed with a fourth,
and furnished it with a brand-new set of his own; and finally
W. H. Pickering found it necessary to give a few new names, just
for particularization. To know, therefore, what part of the
planet anybody means when he mentions it, one has to keep in his
head enough names for five worlds. To cap which, it is to be remarked
that not one of them is the thing's real--that is, its Martian--
name, after all!
Fortunately, with the canals, matters
are not so desperate, because so few people have seen them. Schiaparelli's
monopoly of the sight pleasingly prevented, in their case, christening
competition. What is more, he named them, very judiciously and
most picturesquely, after mythologic river names. Where he got
his names is another matter. Whether he started by being as learned
in such lore as he afterward became may well be doubted. Certainly,
one of the greatest discoveries made at Flagstaff has been the
discovery of the meaning of Schiaparelli's names; some of them
still defying the penetrating power of the ordinary encyclopaedia.
Among them are classical mythologic ones of the class known only
to that himself mythical character, Macaulay's every school boy;
which speaks conclusively for their reconditeness. Others, I firmly
believe, even that omniscient schoolboy can never have heard of.
Want of space here precludes instances; but as a simple example
I may say that the translation to Mars of the Phison and the Gihon,
the two lost rivers of Mesopotamia, satisfactorily accounts
for their not being found on earth by modern explorers.
With due mental reservation as to
their meaning, I have adopted Schiaparelli's names, and, where
it has been necessary to name newly discovered canals, have conformed
as closely as possible to his general scheme. If, even in an instance
or two, I have hit upon names that are incomprehensible, I shall
feel that I have not disgraced my illustrious predecessor. For
a brand new thing no name is so good as one whose meaning nobody
knows, except one that has no meaning at all. In that case the
name not only is becoming but actually becomes the thing.
These names will be found affixed
to their respective canals in the map at the end of the book,
a map made upon what is called Mercator's projection. Mercator's
projection I take to have been primarily an invention of the devil,
although commonly credited to Mercator. It is not simple to construct
and for popular purposes is eminently deceitful. It is intended
for those at sea, whom we pray for on Sundays. It is certainly
calculated to put any one entirely at sea who attempts to learn
geography by means of it. Its object is to enable such as wish
to do so to sail upon rhumb lines, a rhumb line upon a sphere
being one which never changes its direction,--one, for example,
which runs perpetually northeast one quarter east, or south half
west. These lines, important in navigation, are in reality
diminishing corkscrew-like spirals, but on this projection become
straight lines which can be instantly laid down by rule and compass.
To make such delineation possible it is necessary to distort the
proportions of every part of the map, in increasing divergence
toward the poles, with the lamentable result that in early life
we all believed Nova Zembla to be a place as big as South America.
Nevertheless Mercator's projection has certain advantages not
so obvious to the uninitiated, nor requiring special mention here.
In this connection it is only necessary to warn the reader, in
the case of a geography with which he is not familiar, like that
of Mars, to remember that the top and bottom of the map are drawn
upon a scale three or four times as large as the middle; and,
furthermore, that it is a consequence of Mercator's projection
that arcs of great circles appear upon it, not as straight lines,
but as curves always more or less concave to the equator. For
relative size of the various features, he will find the twelve
views from the globe accurate; but for the impressiveness of the
great circle character of the canals, nothing short of a globe
itself will give him adequate realization.
The map represents that part of
the planet lying between latitudes 70 degrees south and about
40 degrees north. The south circumpolar regions will be found
in the chart of the south pole facing. The northern ones
were not presented to view at the last opposition, owing to the
tilt toward us of the Martian south pole. No canals, therefore,
north of about 40 degrees north latitude were visible.
The list of the canals detected
at Flagstaff is as follows :
Name No. of drawings
---------- in which it appears.
Acalandrus 19
Acampsis 7
Acesines 19
Achana 1
Achates 9
Achelous 20
Acheron 11
Acis 14
Aeolus 13
Aesis 23
Aethiops 16
Agathodaemon 127
Alpheus 4 (Sus. 3)
Ambrosia 36
Amenthes 26
Amphrysus 1
Amystis 15
Anapus 7
Antaeus 2 (Sus. 1)
Anubis 9
Araxes 93 (Sus. 1)
Arges 2
Arosis 8
Arsanias 1
Artanes 9
Asopus 5
Astaboras 7
Astapus 29
Atax 8 (Sus. 1)
Athesis 16
Avernus 14
Avus 8
Axius 9
Axon 2
Bactrus 2 (Sus. 1)
Baetis 3
Bathys 69
Bautis 0 (Sus. 1)
Belus 3
Boreas 11
Boreosyrtis 4
Brontes 38
Caicus 8
Cambyses 34
Cantabras 7
Carpis 3
Casuentus 21
Catarrhactes 3
Cayster 3
Centrites 27
Cephissus 35
Cerberus 44 (Sus. 1)
Cestrus 2
Chaboras 4
Chretes 14
Chrysas 6
Chrysorrhoas 18
Cinyphus 14
Clitumnus 7
Clodianus 1
Cophen 5
Coprates 41
Corax 33
Cyaneus 6
Cyrus 3
Daemon 118
Daix 2 (Sus. 1)
Daradax 6
Dardanus 15
Dargamanes 20
Deuteronilus 11
Digentia 2
Dosaron 10
Drahonus 5
Elison 3
Eosphorus 56 (Sus. 3)
Erannoboas 17
Erebus 21 (Sus. 1)
Erinaeus 16
Erymanthus 21
Erynnis 3 (Sus. 1)
Eulaeus 1
Eumenides 103
Eunostos 12
Euphrates 36
Eurymedon 3
Eurypus 9
Evenus 9
Fortunae 10
Gaesus 2
Galaesus 6
Galaxias 28
Ganges 82
Ganymede 19
Garrhuenus 12
Gehon 11
Gigas 60 (Sus. 2)
Glaucus 2
Gorgon 33
Gyes 15
Hades 22
Halys 4
Harpasus 2
Hebe 37
Helisson 12
Heratemis 4
Herculis Columnae 5
Hiddekel 18
Hipparis 19
Hippus 13
Hyctanis 4
Hydaspes 1
Hydraotes 23
Hydriacus 1
Hylias 7
Hyllus 14
Hyphasis 7 (Sus. 3)
Hypsas 6
Hyscus 13
Indus 10
Iris 7
Isis 5
Jamuna 39
Jaxartes 23
Labotas 8
Laestrygon 41
Leontes 2
Lethes 19
Liris 13
Maeander 6
Magon 2
Malva 8
Margus 1
Medus 2
Medusa 24
Mogrus 2
Nectar 87
Neda 2
Nepenthes 21
Nereides 8
Nestus 5
Neudrus 10
Nilokeras 16
Nilosyrtis 21
Nilus 6
Nymphaeus 4
Oceanus 37
Ochus 3
Opharus 13
Orcus 35
Orontes 33
Orosines 29
Oxus 11
Pactolus 11
Padargus 5
Palamnus 9
Parcae 19 (Sus. 1)
Peneus 3 (Sus. 2)
Phasis 29
Phison 56
Protonilus 11
Psychrus 5
Pyriphlegethon 53 (Sus. 1)
Scamander 21
Sesamus 7
Simois 5
Sirenius 60
Sitacus 3
Steropes 46
Styx 7
Surius 6
Tartarus 42
Tedanius 25
Thermodon 2
Thyanis 1
Titan 38
Tithonius 77
Triton 8
Tyndis 2
Typhon 33
Ulysses 33
Uranius 8
Xanthus 12
The number of canals in this list
is 183, and the number opposite each denotes the number of times
each was seen and drawn; (Sus.) meaning, suspected in addition.
There were in all, therefore, 3240 records made of them, not counting
suspicions.
In the region visible at this opposition
Schiaparelli has 79 canals. Of these 67 appear in the list given
above. Of the other 12, the majority lie north of the equator,
and therefore were likely not to be as visible as the rest at
this last opposition, for two reasons connected with their position:
first, on account of the tilt of the planet's axis at the time;
and, secondly, because their northern situation would make their
development late, as we shall shortly see. As no attempt was made
to identify Schiaparelli's list, it will be seen how close is
the accordance.
Of the 116 canals not down on Schiaparelli's
map, 44 are canals in the dark regions and 72 canals in the light
ones. Some of these, too, he saw prior to 1894. Both sets are,
as a rule, more difficult of detection than the ones on his map;
although there are some exceptions, attributable probably to difficulty
of identification. The Brontes and Steropes, for example, might,
unless well seen, be confounded with the Gigas on the one hand,
or the Titan on the other. The most peculiar case, however, is
the relative conspicuousness of the Ulysses.
III. Artificiality
It is patent that here are phenomena
that are passing strange. To read their riddle we had best begin
by excluding what they are not, as help towards deciphering what
they are. So far, we have regarded the canals only statically,
so to speak; that is, we have sketched them as they would appear
to any one who observed them in sufficiently steady air, once,
and once only. But this is far from all that a systematic study
of the lines will disclose. Before, however, entering upon this
second phase of their description, we may pause to note how, even
statically regarded, the aspect of the lines is enough to put
to rest all the theories of purely natural causation that have
so far been advanced to account for them. This negation is to
be found in the supernaturally regular appearance of the system,
upon three distinct counts: first, the straightness of the lines;
second, their individually uniform width; and, third, their systematic
radiation from special points.
On the first two counts we observe
that the lines exceed in regularity any ordinary regularity of
purely natural contrivance. Physical processes never, so far as
we know, end in producing perfectly regular results, that is,
results in which irregularity is not also discernible. Disagreement
amid conformity is the inevitable outcome of the many factors
simultaneously at work. From the orbits of the heavenly bodies
to phyllotaxis and human features, this diversity in uniformity
is apparent. As a rule, the divergences, though small, are quite
perceptible; that is, the lack of absolute uniformity is comparable
to the uniformity itself, and not of the negligible second order
of unimportance. In fact, it is by the very presence of uniformity
and precision that we suspect things of artificiality. It was
the mathematical shape of the Ohio mounds that suggested mound-builders;
and so with the thousand objects of every-day life. Too great
regularity is in itself the most suspicious of circumstances that
some finite intelligence has been at work.
If it be asked how, in the case
of a body so far off as Mars, we can assert sufficient precision
to imply artificiality, the answer is twofold: first, that the
better we see these lines, the more regular they look; and, second,
that the eye is quicker to perceive irregularity than we commonly
note. It is indeed surprising to find what small irregularities
will shock the eye.
The third count is, if possible,
yet more conclusive. That the lines form a system; that, instead
of running anywhither, they join certain points to certain others,
making thus, not a simple network, but one whose meshes connect
centres directly with one another,--is striking at first sight,
and loses none of its peculiarity on second thought. For the intrinsic
improbability of such a state of things arising from purely natural
causes becomes evident on a moment's consideration.
If lines be drawn haphazard over
the surface of a globe, the chances are ever so many to one against
more than two lines crossing each other at any point. Simple crossings
of two lines will of course be common in proportion to the sum
of an arithmetical progression; but that any three lines should
contrive to cross at the same point would be a coincidence whose
improbability only a mathematician can properly appreciate, so
very great is it. If the lines were true lines, without breadth,
the chances against such a coincidence would be infinite, that
is, it would never happen; and, even had the lines some breadth,
the chances would be great against a rendezvous. In other words,
we might search in vain for a single instance of such encounter.
On the surface of Mars, however, instead of searching in vain,
we find the thing occurring passim; this a priori
most improbable rendezvousing proving the rule, not the exception.
Of the crossings that are best seen, all are meeting-places for
more than two canals.
To any one who had not seen the
canals, it might occur that something of the same improbability
would be fulfilled by cracks radiating from centres of explosion
or fissure. But such a supposition is at once negatived by the
uniform breadth of the lines, a uniformity impossible in cracks,
whose very mode of production necessitates their being bigger
at one end than at the other. We see examples of what might
result from such action in the cracks that radiate from Tycho,
in the Moon, or, as we now know from Professor W. H. Pickering's
observations, from the craterlets about it. These cracks bear
no resemblance whatever to the lines on Mars. They look like cracks;
the lines on Mars do not. Indeed, it is safe to say that the Martian
lines would never so much as suggest cracks to any one. Lastly,
the different radiations fit into one another absolutely, an utter
impossibility were they radiating rifts from different centres.
In the same way we may, while we
are about it, show that the lines cannot be several other things
which they have more or less gratuitously been taken to be. They
cannot, for example, be rivers; for rivers could not be so obligingly
of the same size at source and mouth, nor would they run from
preference on arcs of great circles. To do so, practically invariably,
would imply a devotion to pure mathematics not common in rivers.
They may, in some few instances, be rectified rivers, which is
quite another matter. Glaciation cracks are equally out of the
question,--first, for the causes above mentioned touching cracks
in general; and second, because there is, unfortunately, no ice
where they occur. Nor can the lines be furrows ploughed by meteorites,--another
ingenious suggestion,--since, in order to plough, invariably,
a furrow straight from one centre to another, without either missing
the mark or overshooting it, the visitant meteorite would have
to be specially trained to the business.
Such are the chief purely natural
theories of the lines, excluding the idea of canals,--theories
advanced by persons who have not seen them. No one who has seen
the lines well could advance them, inasmuch as they are not only
disproved by consideration of the character of the lines, but
instantly confuted by the mere look of them.
Schiaparelli supposes the canals
to be canals, but of geologic construction. He suggests, however,
no explanation of how this is possible; so that the suggestion
is not, properly speaking, a theory. That eminent astronomer further
says of the idea that they are the work of intelligent beings:
"Io mi guardero bene dal combattere questa supposizione,
la quale nulla include d'impossibile." (I should carefully
refrain from combating this supposition, which involves no impossibility.)
In truth, no natural theory has yet been advanced which will explain
these lines.
Their very aspect is such as to
defy natural explanation, and to hint that in them we are regarding
something other than the outcome of purely natural causes.
Indeed, such is the first impression upon getting a good view
of them. How instant this inference is becomes patent from the
way in which drawings of the canals are received by incredulously
disposed persons. The straightness of the lines is unhesitatingly
attributed to the draughtsman. Now this is a very telling point.
For it is a case of the double-edged sword. Accusation of design,
if it prove not to be due to the draughtsman, devolves ipso
facto upon the canals.
IV. Development
We have thus far considered the
aspect of the canals viewed at any one time. We have now to consider
an even more interesting branch of the subject, their consecutive
appearances. The "open sesame" to our comprehension
of the physical condition of Mars lies in systematic study of
the appearances the planet's surface presents night after night
and month after month. For that surface changes; and the order,
extent, and character of its changes contain the key to their
explanation. True as this is of the larger markings upon the disk,
it is if anything more noticeably the case with the finer detail
of the canals.
After the fundamental fact that
such curious phenomena as the canals are visible, is the scarcely
less curious one that they are not always so. At times the
canals are invisible, and this invisibility is real, not apparent;
that is, it is not an invisibility due to distance or obscuration
of any kind between us and them, but an actual invisibility due
to the condition of the canal itself. With our present optical
means, at certain seasons they cease to exist. For aught we can
see, they simply are not there.
That distance is not responsible
for the disappearance of the canals is shown by their relative
conspicuousness at different times. It is not always when Mars
is nearest to us that the canals are best seen. On the contrary,
their visibility bears no relation to proximity. This is evidenced
both by the changes in appearance of any one canal and by the
changes in relative conspicuousness of different canals. Some
instances of the metamorphosis will reveal this conclusively.
For example, during the end of August and the beginning of September,
at this last opposition, the canals about the Lake of the Sun
were conspicuous, while the canals to the north of them were almost
invisible. In November the relative intensities of the two sets
had distinctly changed: the southern canals were much as before,
but the northern ones had most perceptibly darkened.
Another instance of the same thing
was shown in the case of the canals to the north of the Sinus
Titanum when compared with those about the Solis Lacus. In August
the former were but faintly visible; in November they had become
evident; and yet, during this interval, little change in conspicuousness
had taken place in the canals in the Solis Lacus region.
With like disregard of the effect
due to distance, the canals to the east of the Ganges showed better
at the November presentation*
[footnote... A presentation of any part of the planet is the occasion
when that part of the disk is turned toward the observer. Many
causes combine to make the face presented each night vary, but
the chief one is that the Earth rotates about forty-one minutes
faster than Mars, and consequently gains a little less than ten
degrees on him daily. After about thirty-seven days, therefore,
the two planets again present the same face to each other at the
same hour....]
of that region than they had at the October one, although the
planet was actually farther off at the later date, in the proportion
of 21 to 18.
A more striking instance of the
irrelevancy of distance in the matter was observed in the same
region by Schiaparelli in 1877. It is additionally interesting
as practically dating his discovery of the canals. In early October
of that year, on the evenings of the 2d and the 4th, he tells
us, under excellent definition, and with the diameter of the planet's
disk 21" of arc, the continental region between the Pearl-Bearing
Gulf and the Bay of the Dawn was quite uniformly, nakedly bright,
and destitute of suspicion of markings of any sort. A like
state of things was the case with the same region at its next
presentation, on the 7th of November. Four months later, when
the diameter of the disk had been reduced by distance to 5".7,
or, in other words, when the planet had receded to four times
its previous distance from the earth, the canal called the Indus
appeared, perfectly visible, in the region mentioned. At the next
opposition, in 1881, similar effects occurred; the canals in this
region remaining obstinately invisible while the planet was near
the earth, and then coming out conspicuously when it had gone
farther away. Distance, therefore, is not, with the canals, the
great obliterator.
As to their veiling by Martian cloud
or mist, there is no evidence of any such obscuration. The coast
line of the dark areas appears as clear-cut when the canals are
invisible as when they become conspicuous.
A canal, then, alters in visibility
for some reason connected with itself. It grows into recognition
from intrinsic cause. But, during all its metamorphoses, in one
thing, and in one thing only, it remains fixed,--in position.
Temporary in appearance, the canals are apparently permanent in
place. Not only do they not change in position during one opposition;
they seem not to do so from one opposition to another. The
canals I have observed this year agree fairly within the errors
of observation with those figured on Schiaparelli's chart.
The fact that in all cases they
do not absolutely agree with his is the very best of proofs that
they are substantially the same; for such slight discordance proves
the absence of conscious psychic reproduction. It confirms by
not conforming.
As, in observations of minute detail,
the psychic element insensibly creeps in, it will be well to consider
it for a moment. An idea is a force, a mode of motion, which,
unless obstructed by other ideas, instantly and inevitably produces
its effect upon whatever mind it may chance to impinge, just as
light or electricity or any other mode of motion does, according
to its kind. An easy instance of this can be got by asserting
at dinner, before a company of connoisseurs, that the wine is
slightly corked. Every one not actuated by a spirit of contradiction
will at once perceive that it is so, and will continue to believe
it, in many cases, after it is abundantly disproved. This is what
takes place in the normal, unbiased--that is, so far as this idea
goes-- vacant mind. But minds have their familiar ideas, which
an incoming idea is pretty sure to rouse, and these react to some
extent upon the stranger, and color it with something of their
own complexion. If we expect to meet a certain person, an
approaching figure will most deceitfully take on his garb. The
mere idea of a man walking finds the expectation ready instinctively
to endow it with the attributes of our friend. But this may happen
truly as well as falsely. The expert sees what the tyro misses,
not from better eyesight but from better mechanism in the higher
centres. A very slight hint from the eye goes a long way in the
brain of the one; no distance at all in the brain of the other.
Our senses are our avenues of approach
from the outer world. Messages from them are therefore usually
and rightly attributed to stimuli from without. But it is possible
for these messages to be tampered with at any stage of their journey.
It is even possible for them to be started in some other part
of the brain, travel down to the lower centres and be sent up
from them to the higher ones, indistinguishable from bona fide
messages from without. Bright points in the sky or a blow on the
head will equally cause one to see stars. In the first case the
eyes were duly affected from without; in the second, the nerves
were tapped to the same effect in mid-route; but in each case
the subsequent current travels to the higher centres apparently
as authentic the one as the other.
Hallucinations of one sort and another
occur in this way. More common, however, are unconscious
changes in an originally quite veridic message. We easily see
what we expect to see, but with great difficulty what we do not.
This may be due to individual idiosyncrasy, or it may be due to
a prevailing idea of the time, affecting people generally, in
which we unwittingly share. Fashion is as potent here as elsewhere.
The very same cause will show us at one time what we remain callously
blind to at another. A few years ago it was the fashion not to
see the canals of Mars, and nobody except Schiaparelli did. Now
the fashion has begun to set the other way, and we are beginning
to have presented suspiciously accurate fac-similes of Schiaparelli's
observations.
In any observation, the observer
is likely to be unconsciously affected in some way or other pro
or con, which, from the fact that he is unconscious of it, he
is unable to find out. The only sure test, therefore, is the seeing
what no one else has seen, the discovery of new detail. Next to
that is not too close an agreement with others. Inevitable errors
of observation, to say nothing of times and seasons, distance
and tilt, are certain to produce differences, of which one has
ample proof in comparing his own drawings with one another. Even
too close agreement with one's self is suspicious. In the matter
of fine detail, absolute agreement is therefore neither to be
expected nor to be desired.
All the changes so far observed
on the planet's disk are, I believe, capable of explanation either
by errors of observation or by seasonal change. For, as is the
case with the Earth, not only must vegetation produce different
appearances according to the time of year, but its aspects would
vary somewhat as between year and year. This seasonal variation
would affect not only the visibility of any one canal at any particular
time, but might easily produce apparent alterations of place;
visibility of one canal, combined with visibility or invisibility
in its neighbors, being competent to simulate any shift.
The Araxes is a case in point. On
Schiaparelli's chart there is but one original Araxes and one
great and only Phasis. But it turns out that these do not possess
the land all to themselves. No less than five canals traversing
the region, including the Phasis itself, were visible this year
at Flagstaff, and I have no doubt there are plenty of others waiting
to be discovered. These cross one another at all sorts of angles.
Unconscious combination of them is quite competent to give a turn
to the Araxes one way or the other, and make it curved or straight
at pleasure.
Unchangeable, apparently, in position,
the canals are otherwise among the most changeable features of
the Martian disk. From being invisible, they emerge gradually,
for some reason inherent in themselves, into conspicuousness.
In short, phenomenally at least, they grow. The order of their
coming carries with it a presumption of cause, for it synchronizes
with the change in the Martian seasons. Their first appearance
is a matter of the Martian time of year.
To start with, the visible development
of the canal system follows the melting of the polar snows. Not
until such melting has progressed pretty far do any of the canals,
it would seem, become perceptible.
Secondly, when they do appear, it
is, in the case of the southern hemisphere, the most southern
ones that become visible first. Last June, when the canals were
first seen, those about the Lake of the Sun and the Phoenix Lake
were easier to make out than any of the others. Now, this region
is the part of the reddish-ochre continent, as we may call it,
that lies nearest the south pole. It extends into the blue-green
regions as far south as 40 degrees of south latitude. Nor do any
so-called islands--that is, smaller reddish-ochre areas--stand
between it and the pole. It lies first exposed, therefore, to
any water descending toward the equator from the melting of the
polar cap.
Having once become visible, these
canals remained so, becoming more and more conspicuous as
the season advanced. By August they had darkened very perceptibly.
As yet, those in other parts of the planet were scarcely more
visible than they had been two months before. Gradually, however,
others became evident, farther and farther north, till by October
all the canals bordering the north coast of the dark regions were
recognizable; after which the latter, in their turn, proceeded
to darken,--a state of things which continued up to the close
of observations.
Plate XXI
Plate
XXII
The order in which the canals came
out hinted that two factors were operative to the result,--latitude
and proximity to the dark regions. Other things equal, the most
southern ones showed first; beginning with the Solis Lacus region,
and continuing with those about the Sea of the Sirens and the
Titan Gulf, and so northward down the disk. Other things were
not, however, always equal in the way of topographical position.
Notably was this the case with the areas to the west of the Syrtis
Major, which developed canals earlier than their latitudes would
warrant. Now, to the Syrtis Major descend from the pole the great
straits spoken of before, which, although not in their entirety
water, are probably lands fertilized by a thread of water running
through them. They connect the polar sea with the Syrtis Major
in a tolerably straight line.
The direction of the canal also
affects its time of appearance, though to a less extent. Canals
running north and south, such as the Gorgon, the Titan, the Brontes,
and the like, became visible, as a rule, before those running
east and west. Especially was this noticeable in the more northern
portions of the disk. Time of appearance was evidently a question
of latitude tempered by ease of communication.
After the canals had appeared, their
relative intensities changed with time, and the change followed
the same order in which the initial change from invisibility to
visibility had taken place. A like metamorphosis happened to each
in turn from south to north,in accordance with, and continuance
of, the seasonal change that affected all the blue-green areas.
To account for these phenomena,
the explanation that at once suggests itself is, that a direct
transference of water takes place over the face of the planet,
and that the canals are so many waterways. This explanation labors
under the difficulty of explaining nothing. There are two other
objections to it: an insufficiency of water, and a superabundance
of time, for some months elapsed between the apparent departure
of the water from the pole and its apparent advent in the equatorial
regions; furthermore, each canal did not darken all at once, but
gradually. We must therefore seek some explanation which
accounts for this delay. Now, when we do so, we find that the
explanation advanced above for the blue-green areas explains also
the canals, namely, that what we see in both is, not water, but
vegetation for if the darkening be due to vegetation, time must
elapse between the advent of the water and its perceptible effects,--time
sufficient for the flora to sprout. If, therefore, we suppose
what we call a canal to be, not the canal proper, but the vegetation
along its banks, the observed phenomena stand accounted for. This
suggestion was first made some years ago by Professor W. H. Pickering.
That what we see is not the canal
proper, but the line of land it irrigates, disposes incidentally
of the difficulty of conceiving a canal several miles wide. On
the other hand, a narrow, fertilized strip of country is what
we should expect to find; for, as we have seen, the general physical
condition of the planet leads us to the conception, not of canals
constructed for waterways, --like our Suez Canal,--but of canals
dug for irrigation purposes. We cannot, of course, be sure that
such is their character, appearances being often highly deceitful;
we can only say that, so far, the supposition best explains what
we see. Further details of their development point to this same
conclusion.
In emerging from invisibility into
evidence, the canals first make themselves suspected, rather
than seen, as broad, faint streaks smooching the disk. Such effect,
however, seems to be an optical illusion, due to poor air and
the difficulty inherent in detecting fine detail; for on improvement
in the seeing I have observed these broad streaks contract to
fine lines, not sensibly different in width from what they eventually
become.
The parts of the canals which are
nearest dark areas show first, the line extending sometimes for
a few hundred miles into the continent, sometimes for a thousand
or more; then, in course of time, the canal becomes evident in
its entirety. Complete visibility takes place soon after the canal
has once begun to show, although it show but faintly throughout.
This tendency to being seen in
toto is more strikingly displayed after a canal has attained
its development. It is then not commonly seen in part. Either
it is not seen at all, owing to the seeing not being good enough,
or it is visible throughout its length from one junction to another.
Apart from their extension, the
growth of the canals consists chiefly in depth of tint. They darken
rather than broaden,--a fact which tends to corroborate their
vegetal character; for that long tracts of country should be thus
simultaneously flooded all over to a gradually deepening extent
is highly unlikely, while a growth of vegetation would deepen
in appearance in precisely the way in, which the darkening takes
place.
As for color, the lines would seem
to be of the same tint as the blue-green areas. But, owing to
their narrowness, this is only an inference. I have never chanced
to see them of distinctive color.
At this point it is probable that
a certain obstacle to such wholesale construction of canals, however,
will arise in the mind of the reader, namely, the thought of mountains;
for mountains are by nature antagonistic to canals. Only the Czar
of all the Russias--if we are to credit the account of the building
of the Moscow railway--would be capable of running a canal regardless
of topography. Nor will the doings at our own antipodes help us
to conceive such construction; for though the Japanese irrigate
hillsides, the water in the case comes from slopes higher yet,
whereas on Mars it does not.
Indeed, for the lines to contain
canals we must suppose either that mountains prove no obstacles
to the Martians, or else that there are practically no mountains
on Mars. For the system seems sublimely superior to possible obstructions
in the way; the lines running, apparently, not where they may,
but where they choose. The Eumenides--Orcus, for example, pursues
the even tenor of its unswerving course for nearly 3500 miles.
Now, it might be possible so to select one's country that one
canal should be able to do this; but that every canal should be
straight, and many of them fairly comparable with the Eumenides-Orcus
in length, seems to be beyond the possibility of contrivance.
In this dilemma between mountains
on the one hand and canals on the other, a certain class of observations
most opportunely comes to our aid; for, from observations which
have nothing to do with the lines, it turn; out that the surface
of the planet is, in truth, most surprisingly flat. How this is
known will most easily be understood from a word or two upon the
manner in which astronomers have learnt the height of the mountains
in the Moon.
The heights of the lunar mountains
are found from measuring the lengths of the shadows they cast.
As the Moon makes her circuit of the Earth, a varying amount of
her illuminated surface is presented to our view. From a slender
sickle she grows to full moon, and then diminishes again to a
crescent. The illuminated portion is bounded by a semicircle on
the one side, and by a semi-ellipse on the other. The semicircle
is called her limb, the semi-ellipse her terminator. The former
is the edge we see because we can see no farther; the latter,
the line upon her surface where the sun is just rising or
setting. Now, as we know, the shadows cast at sunrise or sunset
are very long, much longer than the objects that cast them are
high. This is due to the obliquity at which the light strikes
them; the same effect being produced by any sufficiently oblique
light, such as an electric light at a distance. Imperceptible
in themselves, the heights become perceptible by their shadows.
A road illuminated by a distant arc light gives us a startling
instance of this; the smooth surface taking on from its shadows
the look of a ploughed field.
It is this indirect kind of magnification
that enables astronomers to measure the lunar mountains, and even
renders such vicariously visible to the naked eye. Every one has
noticed how ragged and irregular the inner edge of the Moon looks,
while her outer edge seems perfectly smooth. In one place it will
appear to project beyond the perfect ellipse, in another to recede
from it. The first effect is due to mountain tops catching the
sun's rays before the plains about them; the other, to mountain
tops further advanced into the lunar day, whose shadows still
shroud the valleys at their feet. Yet the elevations and depressions
thus rendered so noticeable vanish in profile on the limb.
Much as we see the Moon with the
naked eye do we see Mars with the telescope. Mars being outside
of us with regard to the Sun, we never see him less than half
illumined, but we do see him with a disk that lacks of being round,--
about what the Moon shows us when two days off from full. It is
when he is in quadrature--that is, a quarter way round the celestial
circle from the Sun-- that he shows thus, and we see him then
with the telescope at closer range than we ever see the Moon without
it. So observed we notice at once that his terminator, or inner
edge, presents a very different appearance from the lunar one.
Instead of looking like a saw, it looks comparatively smooth,
like a knife. From this we know that, relatively to his size,
he has no elevations or depressions upon his surface comparable
to the lunar peaks and craters.
His terminator, however, is not
absolutely perfect. Irregularities are to be detected in it, although
much less pronounced than those of the Moon. His irregularities
are of two kinds. The first, and by all odds the commonest phenomenon,
consists in showing himself on occasions surprisingly flat; not
in this case an inferable flatness, but a perfectly apparent one.
In other words, his terminator does not show as a semi-ellipse,
but as an irregular polygon. It looks as if in places the rind
had been pared off. The peel thus taken from him, so to speak,
is from twenty to forty degrees wide, according to the particular
part of his surface that shows upon the terminator at the time.
The other kind is short and sharp. Now it will be remembered
that we considered both kinds under the question of atmosphere,
and we found both to be explicable as the effect of clouds, but
not the effect of mountains. We may therefore feel tolerably certain
that Mars is a flat world; devoid, as we may note incidentally,
of summer resorts, since it possesses, apparently, neither seas
nor hills. To canals we will now return.
The canals so far described all
lie in the bright reddish-ochre portions of the disk,--those parts
which bear every appearance of being desert. But Mr. Douglass
has made the discovery that they are not the only part of the
planet thus privileged. He finds, in the very midst of the dark
regions themselves, straight, dark streaks not unlike in look
to the canals, and still more resembling them in the systematic
manner in which they run. For they reproduce the same rectilinear
arrangement that is so striking a characteristic of their bright-area
fellows. He has succeeded, indeed, in thus triangulating all the
more important dark areas.
Now this is a very interesting discovery,
from several points of view. In the first place, it proves another
tell-tale circumstance as to the true character of the so-called
seas; for that the seas should be traversed by permanent dark
lines is incompatible with a fluid constitution. But the lines
are even more suggestive from a positive than they are from
a negative standpoint. For they make continuations of the lines
in the bright regions, showing that the two are causally connected,
and affording strong presumption that this causal relation is
the very one demanded by the theory of irrigation. For if the
canals in the bright regions be strips of vegetation irrigated
by a canal (too narrow to be itself visible at our distance),
and there be a scarcity of water upon the surface of the planet,
the necessary water would have to be conducted to the mouths of
the canals across the more permanent areas of vegetation, thus
causing bands of denser verdure athwart them, which we should
see as dark lines upon the less dark background. Indeed, it is
exactly what we should expect to find if the theory here advanced
be true. For it is the very next logical step in that theory made
visible. If the canals in the bright regions are to be fed from
the melting of the polar cap, it is altogether likely that they
would be connected with it by other canals running through the
dark regions. We might, therefore, expect to see lines in the
dark regions not unlike the lines in the bright ones, and if these
lines were of the same character as those in the bright regions
they would betray this character by connecting directly with them.
Now this is precisely what he finds the two sets of lines do.
His canals in the dark regions end at the very points at
which the others begin; and they do this invariably. There is
no canal in the dark areas which does not so connect with one
in the bright regions.
Finally, some of the most southern
appear to run tolerably straight toward the pole; but of the plan
underlying the whole system of Martian canals we cannot at present
predicate details; as, though the system instantly suggests plan,
it suggests a plan that does not instantly commend itself to human
comprehension.
Mr. Douglass finds 44 of these canals,
not including the straits between the islands, as is shown in
the following list: --
Name No of drawings in
---------- which it appears.
Acalandrus 19
Acesines 19
Acis 14
Aeolus 13
Amphrysus 1
Athesis 16
Caicus 8
Carpis 3
Casuentus 21
Cayster 3
Cestrus 2
Chaboras 4
Cinyphus 14
Cyaneus 6
Cyrus 3
Dargamanes 20
Digentia 2
Dosaron 10
Drahonus 5
Erannoboas 17
Erymanthus 21
Eurypus 9
Gaesus 2
Galaesus 6
Garrhuenus 12
Harpasus 2
Helisson 12
Heratemis 4
Hipparis 19
Hippus 13
Hyctanis 4
Hydriacus 1
Hylias 7
Hyllus 14
Leontes 2
Malva 8
Mogrus 2
Nestus 5
Neudrus 10
Oceanus 37
Opharus 13
Orosines 29
Padargus 5
Tedanius 25
All these run either through the
dark regions proper, or through those chiaro-oscuro areas, such
as Deucalionis Regio and Pyrrhae Regio, which have hitherto been
thought to be amphibious, and are probably half desert. They connect
on the one hand with the canals in the bright regions, and on
the other with the straits between the so-called islands,--such
strait-canals as Scamander, Xanthus, and the like, if we may so
designate without misunderstanding what is probably not water
at all.
It is interesting thus to forestall
objection about a missing link by discovering that link thus early.
Before passing on to certain other
phenomena connected with the canals of like significance, we may
note here an obiter dictum of the irrigation theory of
some slight corroborative worth; for, if a theory be correct,
it will not only fit all the facts, but at times go out of its
way to answer questions. Such the present one seems to do. If
the seas be seas, and the canals canals, we stand confronted by
the problem how to make fresh-water canals flow out of salt-water
seas. General considerations warrant us in believing that the
Martian seas, like our own, would contain salts in solution, while
irrigation ditches, there as here, should flow fresh water to
be most effective, and we seem committed to the erection of distilleries
upon a gigantic scale. But if, on the contrary, the seas be not
seas, but areas of vegetation, the difficulty vanishes at once;
for, if the planet be dependent upon the melting of its polar
snows for its spring freshet, the water thus produced must necessarily
be fresh, and the canals be directly provided with the water they
want. The polar sea is a temporary body of water, formed anew
each year, not a permanent ocean; consequently there is no chance
for saline matter to collect in it. From it, therefore, fresh
water flows, and, like our rivers, gathers nothing to speak of
in the way of salt before it is drawn off into the canals.
We now come to some phenomena connected
with the canals, of the utmost suggestiveness. I have said that
the junctions held, in a twofold way, the key to the unlocking
of the mystery of the canals: in the first place, in the fact
that such junctions exist. The second and more important reason
remains to be given, for it consists in what we find at those
junctions. This we shall see in the next chapter