Page 76 - James Rodger Fleming - Fixing the sky
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human dimensions and of the pitfalls of weather control than anything Espy
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                  ever  wrote.”   Since  then,  however,  the  intractable  human  dimensions  of
                  weather and climate control have taken a backseat to the technical schemes of
                  optimistic rain kings and climate engineers with relatively simple ideas, or at
                  least angles.
                     Espy received honorable mention in 1843 in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Hall
                  of Fantasy”—a marketplace of wild ideas that most of us visit at least once but
                  some dreamers occupy permanently; a marketplace seemingly perfectly suited
                  to the millennial ideas of rain kings and climate engineers. Here the statues of
                  the rulers and demigods of imagination—Homer, Dante, Milton, Goethe—are
                  memorialized in stone, while those of more limited and ephemeral fame are
                  made of wood. Plato’s Idea looms over all. Here are social reformers, abolition-
                  ists, and Second Adventist “Father [William] Miller himself!” Civil and social
                  engineers propound ideas of “cities to be built, as if by magic, in the heart of
                  pathless forests; and of streets to be laid out, where now the sea was tossing; and
                  of mighty rivers to be stayed in their courses, in order to turn the machinery
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                  of a cotton-mill.”  “Upon my word,” exclaimed Hawthorne, “it is dangerous to
                  listen to such dreamers as these! Their madness is contagious” (204). Here are
                  inventors of fantastic machines aimed to “reduce day dreams to practice”: mod-
                  els of a railroad through the air, a tunnel under the sea, distilling machines for
                  capturing heat from moonshine and for condensing morning mist into square
                  blocks of granite, and a lens for making sunshine out of a lady’s smile. “Professor
                  Espy was here,” reminiscent of Aeolus, the god of the winds, “with a tremendous
                  storm in a gum-elastic bag” (206). The “inmates of the hall,” it is said (remember
                  that all pass through here on occasion), take up permanent residence by throw-
                  ing themselves into “the current of a theory,” oblivious to the “landmarks of fact”
                  passing along the stream’s bank.



                  Cannon and bells


                  Charles Le Maout (1805–1887), a pharmacist and mine assayer in Saint-Brieuc,
                  near the coast of Brittany, was a dedicated pacifist. one of his powerful argu-
                  ments in favor of peace went far beyond typical arguments invoking the carnage,
                  desolation, and miseries of war. He thought that war, especially cannonading
                  but also the ringing of bells, destroyed the fragile equilibrium of the aerial ele-
                  ments and was responsible for undesirable atmospheric perturbations of all kinds,
                  including rain, hail, thunder, lightning, harsh winters, and possibly airborne epi-
                  demic diseases. He wrote:


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