I. Velikovsky. .Before The Day Breaks.
I. Velikovsky. .Before The Day Breaks.
I. Velikovsky. .Before The Day Breaks.
Immanuel Velikovsky
Foreword
Introduction
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Foreword
FOREWORD
This unpublished manuscript is a chronicle of Immanuel Velikovsky’s contacts and
debates with Albert Einstein. The two men first met in the early 1920’s, when
Einstein edited the Mathematica et Physica section of Scripta Universitatis atque
Bibliothecae Hierosolymitanarum (Writings of the University and the Library of
Jerusalem), of which Velikovsky was the general editor. There were a number of
other contacts over the years, and in the late 1940’s Einstein read parts of Worlds in
Collision prior to publication.
Velikovsky begins his story in 1952, with a brief meeting at the lake in Princeton
between the Velikovskys and Einstein. Velikovsky saw this meeting as a low point in
the relationship between himself and Einstein. He then reviews, in a lengthy
flashback, the contacts of the previous thirty years. Next he turns to the main subject
of this book, the series of letters and conversations from 1952 to 1955 that were the
setting of the ongoing debate between Einstein and Velikovsky on the subject of
Velikovsky’s theories, especially the role of electromagnetic factors in the celestial
arena. By the end of Einstein’s life, areas of disagreement between the two men
remained, but those areas had been greatly reduced during the course of their
increasingly cordial and productive discussions.
— Lynn E. Rose
http://www.varchive.org/bdb/foreword.htm29/04/2005 14:33:47
Introduction
INTRODUCTION
In the dark hours before morning, at the crossing of the Yabbok, flowing into the
Jordan, Jacob struggled with a man whom he did not know; and the stranger, upon
seeing the sky beginning to redden in the east, asked Jacob:
The title of this book is taken from this story in Genesis (32:24-27). The reader will
find out at which juncture of our relations I exchanged this ancient dialogue with
Albert Einstein.
For long months we carried on a struggle by written and spoken word; the subject of
the struggle dealt with invisible but real forces, whether they do or do not take part in
the movements of the silent mechanism that carries worlds on their paths. My claim
of the participation of electromagnetic fields and their interrelations in the structure of
the universe was opposed by him almost to the last, and this was the issue of the
dispute. The Morning Star was also a subject of our contention.
The main story starts in August 1952, though there were some exchanges also earlier.
We defined our positions, he in brief, I at length. Then, after an interruption of over a
year, we came to closer grips. In letters (testimonials to the stands we took) in his
marginal notes to manuscripts of mine, and in discussions that went sometimes nearly
till midnight, we were not sparing of each other.
Before the debate started there certainly was in my opponent a preconceived stand
which he shared with so many men of science who could not see in my published
work any vrai- semblance of scientific truth. Yet as soon as the contact became
personal it grew in warmth, and a reciprocal affection developed between us,
unyielding as we were.
I believe it was not until our two long discussions accompanying the reading of my
paper “On the Four Plans of the Universe” less than seven weeks before his death that
my opponent fully comprehended my stand. By that time he had also read Worlds in
Collision for another time, with a decidedly different reaction. At the end I felt as if
he wished me to be proven right.
Our debate ended on Friday, April 8, 1955, only nine days before Einstein’s death. I
think I was the last person with whom he discussed a scientific problem. On that day
I brought him the published news that Jupiter sends out radio noises; ten months
earlier, in a letter to him, I had offered to stake our dispute on this my claim of an as
yet undiscovered phenomenon — and at that time he let me have his reply in a
marginal note to my letter. It happened repeatedly that he wrote his arguments in the
form of notes, sometimes copious, on the margins of my letters, returning my
originals to me; with notes he also supplied some of my manuscripts that he read:
Earth in Upheaval, published half a year after his death, and Stargazers and
Gravediggers, memoirs on the origin and reception of my work.
Over twenty years have passed since the figure that dominates this narrative left the
abode of men. With the passing years many phenomena have come to light, and today
it is sometimes difficult for a scientist to reconstruct his own and his colleagues’
attitude of 1950 or 1955. And it is even more difficult for the young generation to
envisage the stand of science in those years, almost a generation ago. Since then,
many discoveries of the Space Age have completely changed our understanding of
the structure of the solar system, and radioastronomy has brought home a new and
exciting picture of cosmic spaces and of the forces that act in them. It is easy to be
misled into thinking that this knowledge was already common in the early fifties; thus
whom better to quote than Einstein as a spokesman for the prevalent scientific view
of that time?
This short book is intended also as a personal tribute to a man who was simple to the
extreme, strong in convictions, humble in fame, curious for human destiny, and very
solitary.
If the years that have passed have not substantiated Einstein’s stand in the arguments
we exchanged, his very attitude in this exchange that much occupied his mind to the
end of his life, and his effort to uphold the human dignity of a heretic ostracized by
the entire scientific community, remains for me an unforgettable experience. I have
tried to communicate to my readers this glow that lives in me undiminished since the
dawn broke for me.
Many of the following pages were written when Einstein was still alive, and now, in a
number of instances, I have had to change the present tense to the past tense. Other
pages were written soon after his death, and some I add while preparing the story for
print. Being now several years older than Einstein when he died, I think that I should
not delay, but put together and leave a record of our relations and of the issue that
divided us and bound us. I did not know intimately the man with whom I struggled
before the dawn, but I sensed something angelic. Before the Day Breaks is a record
and a tribute.
Princeton, 1976
At the Lake
It was August 1952, eight or ten weeks after we moved to Princeton. Elisheva and I
sat on a bench at the boathouse on the shore of Carnegie Lake, which sprawls in the
valley only a few minutes’ walk from our home, and talked with the boatman. We
saw a tiny boat with a sail approaching the anchorage. An elderly man with his head
covered by a wide-brimmed hat against the rays of the setting sun came from the boat
and, going toward the boathouse, looked at us with his friendly smile. Only now I
recognized Einstein. I approached him and named myself.
“Ah, you are the man who brought the planets into disorder,” said he in German, and
the smile disappeared from his face. He was carrying the oars into the boathouse. I
made a move to help him, but he kept the oars. I heard a challenge in this greeting
and said:
“I would like an occasion to meet you and discuss. . . .”
“But what do you know of astronomy?” he said dryly.
“I know to put questions,” I said, or only thought so.
“Not one of these days, sometime later,” he said.
“May I write you?”
“Do it,” he said, and was already a bit impatient to be away—his home is at the other
end of town. His car moved on the unpaved road that runs along Carnegie Lake, and
Elisheva and I went home, uphill, only several hundred feet from the mooring
platform.
This short encounter made me realize that Einstein, too, was full of resentment
against me. I had not yet had any chance to show him that I had thought through the
physical consequences of the conclusions at which I arrived in my study of the
natural phenomena of the past. Six years earlier, in 1946, as I will soon narrate, I had
the ambitious plan to discuss with him the physical consequences of Worlds in
Collision, then in manuscript, and on July 5th of that year visited him in his Princeton
house. Einstein agreed then to look through a part of the manuscript. At that time he
advised me to rework my book so as to make it acceptable to physicists and to save
what was valuable in it; if I would not do this, I would not find physicists who would
accept my views, nor a publisher willing to print them.
Since then six years had passed. Einstein was right: most astronomers declined even
to deliberate my evidences; the publisher that had brought out my book had parted
with me.
Now, after our accidental meeting, I wrote on August 26th a letter to Einstein:
When, by chance, we met last week at the lake, I became aware that
you are angry with me personally for my “Worlds in Collision.” From
you I have not expected this reaction.
These two assertions are true only if gravitation and inertia are
responsible for planetary motions, a notion subscribed by every
“vernunftigen Physiker.” Here, though no physicist or astronomer, I am
provoked to disagree.
The sun has a general magnetic field, the solar spots are magnets, the
solar prominences return on an oblique line to the place on the solar
surface from where they erupted, the cometary tails are repelled by the
sun in a manner and with velocities which the pressure of light cannot
explain; the earth is a magnet; the ionosphere, the polar light, the
ground currents, the terrestrial magnetism react to solar disturbances;
cosmic rays are charges that travel in magnetic lines of force;
meteorites come down in a magnetic state; the position of the moon
influences the radio reception (Stetson); the position of the planets
influences the radio reception (Nelson of RCA); the fixed stars are
strong magnets (Babcock). In the face of all this is it true or wrong to
insist that only gravitation and inertia act in the celestial sphere? And if
the electromagnetic fields are not invented by me for the solar system
ad hoc in order to explain the phenomena and their interpretation as
found in “Worlds in Collision,” then may I ask: Who is in conflict with
observed facts, the astronomers that have all their calculations
concerning the planetary motions perfect on the assumption that there
are no electromagnetic fields in the solar system, or the author of
“Worlds in Collision” ?
Venus could come to a circular orbit and the Earth could be retarded in
its rotation or have its axis inclined, under the influence of
electromagnetic fields. Such fields exist; at close distances they would
act strongly. I believe, therefore, that not only the historical phenomena
that I describe in my first book could have happened, but also that
celestial mechanics that has all its motions explained without taking
into account the electromagnetic fields in the solar system, is in conflict
with facts.
I have read a book of a prominent astronomer of this city who says that
nothing could take place in the celestial sphere which conflicts with the
words of Jesus of Nazareth as preserved in the Gospels. Thus he has
two world conceptions that live side by side in his mind—one of
mathematics, the other of faith. But the rest of astronomers are like
him: they acknowledge the magnetic and electrical properties of the
sun and its spots, or of the fixed stars, of meteorites, of cosmic rays,
occasionally also of cometary tails, and they do not deny that the Earth
is a magnet, and that the sun, the moon, and the planets influence in
some way the ionosphere; but as soon as it comes to the celestial
motions, they still keep to pre-Faraday Laplace and Lagrange, and
actually postulate sterile electricity and impotent magnetism, which do
not act at distances, and which do no more than produce a Zeeman
effect.
For over two years I have been a target of abuse and calumny. When
did it happen that a spurious book caused such a fury in the minds of
the contemporary scientists?
I have taken too much of your time. I wish you everything best.
Cordially,
Immanuel Velikovsky
To this my letter of August 26 Einstein answered the very next day. It reads in
1
translation:
A. Einstein
112 Mercer Street
Princeton
New Jersey, U.S.A.
The reason for the energetic rejection of the opinions presented by you
lies not in the assumption that in the motion of the heavenly bodies
only gravitation and inertia are the determining factors. The reason for
the rejection lies rather in the fact that on the basis of this assumption it
was possible to calculate the temporal changes of star locations in the
planetary system with an unimaginably great precision.
Yours,
Albert Einstein
Yet, knowing me even as little as he did, how could Einstein think that my intention
had been to mislead? In the two preceding years he must have been involved many
times in discussions of Worlds in Collision, and the opinions of others must have
colored his own. This would also explain his cold and even harsh greeting when we
met at the lake. He was prepared to admit that I was deceiving myself; and deceiving
myself I was, because I was pitting myself against the closed front of mathematics
and astronomy.
In a hundred years, in over 400 revolutions, Mercury precesses (advances) ca. 5600
seconds of arc, of which 46 seconds are unexplained by classical celestial mechanics;
the visible face of the moon is by comparison ca. 30 minutes, or 1800 seconds of arc.
This anomaly of Mercury, so small, was so disturbing that for seventy years from
1845 when it was calculated by Leverrier, until 1915 when Einstein announced his
General Theory of Relativity, it caused great unease among theoretical astronomers.
Was possibly the mass of the sun unequally distributed?, it had been asked. Was
possibly an undetected planet revolving between Mercury and the sun, obscured from
observation by the sun’s dazzling light? This was a problem which, so long as it
remained unresolved, did not let astronomers live in peace; and only with Einstein’s
explanation for the phenomenon was the looked for solution found and peace
restored: now, observations and calculations coincided almost precisely.
In the classical celestial mechanics there is no need nor place for electricity or
Einstein knew nothing, and could not know, of the scruples I had concerning what I
considered a methodological oversight. If there are electromagnetic interrelations in
the solar system, then of course they must be considered in their effects on the
precession of Mercury, on the red shift, and on the bending of light—all three
regarded as proofs of the General Theory of Relativity.
You say that the fact of the exact correspondence of the planetary
motions with the theory proves this theory as correct: in the celestial
motions only two agents participate—gravitation and inertia. Let us
first assume that your statement of exact correspondence between
theory and phenomena is rigidly correct. Still the mere fact of a force
acting at an inverse square rate would not exclude electricity and
magnetism, also acting at the inverse square rate, from participation in
celestial motions. But the statement is not rigidly correct, either. Let me
illustrate.
Here is the year 1845. Leverrier in France and Adams in England, out
of perturbations of Uranus calculated, to the exactness of one degree of
arc, the presence of a yet unseen planet. Both of them assumed that a
planet of a size not larger than that of Uranus travels on an orbit at a
distance dictated by Bode’s law. Neptune is actually of the size of
Uranus, but the mean distance between their orbits is not ca.
1,750,000,000 miles, as Bode’s law required, but only ca.
1,000,000,000 miles; thus the error is equal to ascribing to Neptune a
triple mass. The discovery of Pluto did not solve the conflict between
the theory and the fact and caused also conflicting estimates of Pluto’s
mass. Thus the finding of the planetary stations in relation to a chart of
fixed stars is not enough; if the theory is true the distances must also be
correct. And still the discovery of Neptune is regarded as the strongest
proof of the Newtonian theory of celestial motions.
Now in the same 1845, the year of this triumph, Leverrier calculated
also the anomaly of Mercury, and by this caused to think that the
Newtonian law of gravitation may be not precisely true. Leverrier first
thought of some planet moving inside the Mercurial orbit or of a
possible unequal distribution of the mass in the sun. You have used the
fact of the anomaly to prove that the space is curving in the presence of
a mass. About the same time—in 1913—G. E. Hale published his
paper on “The general magnetic field of the sun” (Contr. M. Wilson
Obs., #71), in which he estimated the general magnetic field of the sun
as of 50 Gauss intensity. At this intensity “under certain conditions
electromagnetic forces are much stronger than gravitation.” (Alfven)
The last named author in his “cosmical Electro-dynamics” (Oxford,
1950, p. 2) shows that a hydrogen atom at the distance of the earth
from the sun and moving with the earth’s orbital velocity, if ionized, is
acted upon by the solar magnetic field ten thousand times stronger than
by the solar gravitational field.
Now the visible streamers of the sun that conveyed to Hale the idea that
the sun is a magnet reach a long way toward Mercury, almost half the
way. Was the electromagnetic state of the sun ever considered as the
cause of the anomaly? The effect of the e.-m. action must have been
reckoned, and possibly excluded, but not disregarded. . . .
The fact that the theory accurately coincided with the observed
planetary positions was the main argument for the Ptolemaic system
and against the heliocentric system. For more than two generations,
until 1600, it was not the Roman Church who opposed the Copernican
theory; the scientists opposed it and used as their main argument their
When over a year ago, Professor Stewart, your neighbor, was invited
together with myself by the Presbyterian Society of this town to
participate in a debate about my book, and the time became short, I
asked my opponent: “But you have excluded the existing
electromagnetic conditions in the solar system from the celestial
mechanics,” his answer was: “We do not need them: our calculations
are perfect without them.” Later, when our debate was renewed on the
pages of Harper’s Magazine, I observed: “If the balance sheet of a bank
is correct to the last cent, but two large deposits (electricity and
magnetism) are omitted, the entire balance may be questioned.” . . .
I did not really expect an answer from Einstein, nor a conversion on his part. I did not
speak basing my arguments on my work on global catastrophes; nor did I draw my
evidence from folklore; I was enumerating physical facts left outside the domain of
celestial mechanics, though they, by right, belonged there. A minute discrepancy in
the motion of Mercury was noticed; to its explanation the majestic structure of the
General Theory of Relativity was erected. Larger discrepancies, however, were left
out of the discussion, or, in other cases, quite unsatisfactory explanations were
offered, like light pressure as the cause of the behavior of cometary tails: no
quantitative analysis was made for this assumption, yet it was taken into the
textbooks.
I thought: This is the second best reply I could have had—at least the opposition was
spelled out; an agreement with my argument I could hardly expect.
As to his second paragraph—I saw that the muddy wave of suspicion had reached
even Einstein and infected him for a while, despite the fact that he knew me a little
from former years.
I have repeatedly, and also very recently, been asked: “What made you so strong that
you could persevere in the face of a concerted opposition of the entire scientific
establishment, and to do it for so many years?” Whether this is the true ground or not,
I usually answered, “It is the obstinacy of my race, the race of Marx, of Freud, and of
Einstein.”
References
A Flashback
Thirty-one years earlier, on a late summer afternoon in 1921, I was the only stranded
passenger in a small station on the frontier of Lithuania and Germany. I followed
with my eyes the train that carried my parents; it left the platform and soon
disappeared from sight. It was the end of our three years of wandering in Russia, in
the Ukraine and the Caucasus, lands torn by civil war; perils of death were more than
once only an arm’s length away as we sought to reach the land of Israel, the elusive
goal of our striving. Now, finally, my parents were traveling toward the West,
intending to continue from there to the land of Israel.
Waiting for a train that would take me back to Kovno (Kaunas), I found a rack with
books at the newsstand. I purchased a small book on Einstein’s theory. This was very
possibly the first time I encountered the name. I had only recently emerged from what
later became known as the Iron Curtain—from the vast plain of a great country
racked by war, disorganized and famished. Latvia and Lituania, where I now found
myself, were independent republics. Hardly any news about scientific progress in the
outside world reached the reading public in the Soviet Union in those years.
However, it is possible that during the several weeks that I spent in Lithuania the
name of Einstein could have already met my eyes from a page of a Kaunas
newspaper. I had not yet heard of Minkowski; the name Lobachevsky was familiar to
me. There in the station building, and then on the train on the way back to Kaunas, I
read the purchased paperback, and I was electrified. The theories presented in it
stirred in me an intense interest, and even emotion. Energy is a form of matter; time is
a fourth coordinate—in that first description of Einstein’s theory that I read, ideas that
had already visited me seemed to abound. I was rarely so struck by what I read as I
was then.
Several weeks after parting with my parents at the train station in Lithuania, I came to
Berlin by way of Stockholm to meet them again. I believe it was that very evening
that my father told me that out of what was left him from all his possessions he would
donate a large portion for a humanitarian purpose. Such were his ways all his life; he
wished with the little means that he still had available to him to initiate something of
great design—he thought of propaganda for peace. But I had a different idea, and my
father agreed with me. My idea of organizing a series of scientific publications to
serve as a platform for Jewish scholars around the world in preparation for the
establishment of a Hebrew University in Jerusalem immediately appealed to him, and
1
he offered me generously from his shrunken means to fund the Scripta.
I met Prof. Heinrich Loewe, a librarian of Berlin University, and found in him an
enthusiastic collaborator. We approached a number of eminent scholars of Jewish
origin. The Jew was known the world over as a tradesman, but the renown of the
nation’s scholars belonged to other peoples. Rothschild was a Jew—everyone knew
this. But many of the great names of science—Hertz, Michelson, Ehrlich,
Wasserman, Minkovski, Bohr and others—belonged to the halls of fame of other
nations.
Professor Loewe approached Einstein, and he agreed to be the editor of the part
Mathematica et Physica. During the process of editing the papers in the section on
Mathematics and Physics, I repeatedly met Einstein in his apartment in Berlin. He
was then at the zenith of his fame, having been awarded the Nobel prize for physics
in the previous year at the age of forty-one. His face was young, and framed by dark
hair. I did not pretend to know much about the subjects discussed in the articles, and
Einstein himself admitted to not being acquainted with several of the fields discussed
by other authors. We had some interesting conversations. Still unconvinced that the
Jewish nation needed to be preserved and not assimilated, he once remarked: “Are
not all races equally ancient?” I called him to the window, next to which he had a
small telescope, and asked him to look down on the street, and told him: “Do you see
those cobblestones of which the road is made? They are ancient, but they are not
collected and preserved in a museum.”
He was always friendly, as was also his wife, who was his cousin; it was she who
regularly opened the door, and both of them would be at the door, friendly, when I
would leave.
The work on Scripta progressed, and the eminence of the Jewish people in science
and the humanities started to shine through. Some barriers had to be overcome, since
the original works were to be printed not only in the language of their authors, but
also in Hebrew translation. It fell to my task to create something like a collegium of
translators, for at that time schools of higher learning did not exist in Hebrew, except
Yeshivot. In many cases new terminology needed to be created. This work was partly
helped by Sfotenu, two volumes of Hebrew terminology, published in Russia in
former years with the funds of my father under the editorship of Dr. Joseph Klausner.
For two years I worked passionately on this undertaking. By the fall of 1923 over
thirty bilingual monographs were printed. Most of them were subsequently united in
two volumes, Mathematica et Physica, and Orientalia et Judaica.
In 1924 the British journal Nature, reviewing the volume on “Mathematics and
Physics,” observed that if from a population of thirteen million Jewish people sprang
talents like Edmund Landau, Karman, Hadamard, Einstein, Levi-Civita, Loria, Born,
Landau and others, then clearly the Jewish nation was unusually rich in creative spirit
and ability. The published volumes served the National Library in Jerusalem (later
University Library of Jerusalem) for exchange with many scientific institutions for
their publications.
I lived a number of years in what was then the British mandated territory of Palestine,
working as a medical doctor. In 1928, after the death of my mother, I turned my
interest to psychoanalysis. In the spring of 1930 I wrote on “The Physical Existence
of the World of Thought,” to which Eugen Bleuler, the dean of world psychiatry,
whom I came to know, wrote a preface, stressing the pioneering nature of my work
and revealing that he had harbored very similar ideas.
In 1939 I came with my family for a sabbatical to the United States to complete
research on a manuscript on Freud and his heroes. A few weeks later the World War
started, and humankind was enveloped by catastrophe for the second time in the
space of twenty five years.
In 1940 I approached Einstein and discussed with him a plan for the foundation of an
Academy of Sciences in Jerusalem—before this I had started a series of scientific
papers called Scripta Academica with a paper by Chaim Weizmann and E.
Bergmann. Einstein added his signature to the list of those who agreed to
participate—it was headed by Franz Boas and Enrico Fermi.
After a period of six years, during which Einstein and I had not met, I went to
Princeton to see him on July 5, 1946. His telephone was not listed, and the telephone
office did not supply the information without checking with the scientist about
whether he wished a particular party to be given his telephone number. He asked me
to come on that day, and I took my daughter Shulamit with me. She had spent many
mornings with me in discussing some aspects of the gravitational theory. At that time
she was taking graduate courses at Columbia University, having received her honors
degree in physics from Hunter College in New York. She was my silent companion.
I never thought I would ever discuss physical problems with Einstein. But, as
explained above, my work on natural upheavals of the past led me to consequences
which I could not disregard. Going now to see Einstein, I knew I would not be able to
explain all that I had thought through about the role of electrical and magnetic forces
in the solar system, although I had it in writing. He received us on the terrace at the
back of his house, overlooking the yard with tall trees; he was wearing sandals, and
greeted us with his unique kindness and smile. Two hours passed in a discussion, my
daughter listening. I did not feel like saying—"I have found some of the premises of
the astronomers to be wrong” ; my intent was to prepare him through the reading of
my manuscript to wonder about the conflict that presents itself between the theory of
changeless orbits and the conclusions that ask to be drawn from the material I had
assembled. I left with him the first half of my manuscript of Worlds in Collision, the
2
part dealing with Venus. Three days later he already wrote his answer:
July 8, 1946
I have read the whole book about the planet Venus. There is much of
interest in the book which proves that in fact catastrophes have taken
place which must be attributed to extraterrestrial causes. However it is
evident to every sensible physicist that these catastrophes can have
nothing to do with the planet Venus and that also the direction of the
inclination of the terrestrial axis towards the ecliptic could not have
undergone a considerable change without the total destruction of the
entire earth’s crust. Your arguments in this regard are so weak as
opposed to the mechanical-astronomical ones, that no expert will be
able to take them seriously. It were best in my opinion if you would in
this way revise your books, which contain truly valuable material. If
you cannot decide on this, then what is valuable in your deliberations
will become ineffective, and it may be difficult finding a sensible
publisher who would take the risk of such a heavy fiasco upon himself.
I tell you this in writing and return to you your manuscript, since I will
not be free on the considered days.
Your
Albert Einstein
The letter contained one positive statement and two negative ones, expressed with
vigor and finality not given to appeal or reconsideration. To have Einstein subscribe
to the thesis of global catastrophes in historical times and, furthermore, to make him
agree with the extraterrestrial origin of such events can be counted as an achievement:
this acceptance immediately carried Einstein into the camp of the catastrophists—not
even a camp, because hardly anyone in the mid-twentieth century believed in the
notion of global catastrophes. Astronomers had not produced a single man from
among their ranks who would have conceded as much as Einstein did in that letter.
But I found no satisfaction in the concession obtained at the beginning of the letter
because I hoped for more. I hoped that I would be able to continue the discussion
started on July 5th and to lead it to the subject that was the purpose of that discussion,
namely, the consequences for celestial mechanics that followed from the historical
events presented in my work. My stand was later formulated in the Preface to Worlds
in Collision: “If, occasionally, historical evidence does not square with formulated
laws, it should be remembered that a law is but a deduction from experience and
experiment, and therefore laws must conform with historical facts, not facts with
laws.” I had planned to spread before Einstein the many facts that all point to the
unjustified omittance of two all-pervading and interdependent natural forces,
electricity and magnetism, from all and every consideration of being active agents in
the plan of the universe, and in the mechanics of the solar system.
Now the discussion was cut short before we reached the theme; Einstein called off
our next meeting and there was no point in asking him to read the second part of the
manuscript. It appeared also that he was under the impression that he had seen the
entire manuscript, whereas it was but the first folder that I had left with him.
Had I been insecure in my work and its conclusions, this would have been the
moment to reappraise the entire endeavor. But I was so completely convinced of my
theses that my reaction was not of re-orientation in order to salvage what to Einstein
appeared as valuable in my manuscript and thus to secure a good chance of
publishing it. It was a short-lived regret that my effort with Einstein was luckless. I
wrote to him on July 16, 1946:
I thought carefully of what you wrote in your letter of July 8, for which
I thank you very much. I thank you also wholeheartedly for the time
you gave me on July 5, and for reading a part of my Ms “Worlds in
Collision.”
Immanuel Velikovsky
First, to have one of the conclusions of my work, identifying Venus as the agent
which caused the great global catastrophe, checked by a physical method, namely by
spectroscopy on the presence of hydrocarbons, and already before approaching
Einstein I had approached the Harvard College Observatory with the request of
having this specific test made. The description of that step and the correspondence
3
that ensued during April and May find their place in a separate publication.
Thirdly, I decided not to postpone any longer and to inquire into the possibility of
presenting my manuscript in book form to the scholarly world.
References
I addressed a large audience at Summit. The lecture took place in February 1953. The
chairman of the Society, Dr. Joseph Baker, met me in the hall and before I entered the
large auditorium worriedly inquired whether I would be able to restrain myself if
some in the audience should become abusive. I assured him that he had nothing to
worry about.
In my lecture I spoke mainly on the geological problems that are related to the theory
of Worlds in Collision. The question period went off without a disturbance. At tea in
the gallery the discussion went on for another hour and I realized the great appeal that
geological problems— of sea depths, of mountain building, and of ice ages— have to
the minds of many. As I took leave of him, the chairman announced: “Dr. Velikovsky
has acquired a new follower in me.”
On another occasion I was asked to meet a group of scholars and scientists at the
home of the Plungians; Dr. Shockley, the co-discoverer of the transistor, and a future
Nobel Prize winner, led the discussion. We had a little mathematical skirmish in
which I happened to be right, and he generously and immediately admitted it.
About that time Margot Einstein, who had known Elisheva since the 1940’s , began
to come to our home. Margot and Elisheva met in 1941 at Columbia University,
where they both studied sculpture under Oronzo Maldarelli. Once Margot arranged
for Elisheva to come to Princeton to play quartets with Einstein. Elisheva is a
professional violinist, and used to give many concerts before we came to the United
States. And so in April 1944 Elisheva came to Princeton, arranging for a violist and a
cellist to join her, and played with Einstein three string quartets of Mozart.
At one of her visits Margot told us in great detail of her experience in Holland during
the Hitler regime, and mostly her stories were about animals— lambs and birds—
with whom she related better than with human beings in this evil world; it seemed she
wished to be well thought of by us. Occasionally she came with Miss Helen Dukas,
Einstein’s secretary. Miss Dukas had then been with Einstein for almost twenty-five
years— she entered her service with him several years after I knew him in Berlin.
After the death of his second wife, she took care of his correspondence and of his
household. Elisheva and her musical colleagues would have chamber music at our
home, and a small company of intellectuals would gather at these occasions; there
were animated discussions. Miss Dukas and Margot were present a few times and
enjoyed these evenings.
The Graduate College, or Proctor Hall, lies separate from the Princeton University
Campus; its tower is seen from a distance, rising above the fields and golf courses, by
any car traveling on U.S. Route 1, and is the first visible landmark identifying the
university town, hidden in verdure. The Common Room, with its ornately panelled
walls, and leather easy-chairs, is reached through a gateway and a quadrangle.
In the fall of 1953 I was invited by the graduate students of Princeton University to
address their Forum; the student who invited me, as I recently found out, was George
Field, ten years later a scientist of achievement and subsequently Director of Harvard
College Observatory, a post once occupied by Harlow Shapley. I was glad to have
this occasion. As the theme of the lecture I selected: “Worlds in Collision in the light
of recent findings in Astronomy, Geology and Archaeology.”
The lecture took place on the evening of October 14. The Common Room was filled
and many stood around the walls and in the doorways. In the front row sat Graduate
College Dean Sir H. Taylor and other dignitaries. Among those who remained
standing for about two hours— for the address and discussion— were, as I hardly
noticed, Margot Einstein, Helen Dukas, and Gina Plungian.
Before the lecture started my wife overheard one of those in the audience, a graduate
student or an instructor, as he assured his neighbor that it would be fun to listen to a
crackpot. But as soon as I began, the audience followed my delivery with great
attention. I offered non-conformist views, but there was nothing in them to confirm
the expectation of a circus performance. I spoke for over an hour. A question and
answer period followed. A few days later a young friend, a twenty-four year old
assistant professor of aerodynamics, Ronald Probstein, told me how a scholar in the
audience with a pipe in his mouth looked on with sarcastic triumph when the question
period started, and changed his expression with every answer I gave.
Question and answer periods, then and since then, have been my forte; the audience
apparently discounts the knowledge that a lecturer offers in his delivery, since it
could be carefully prepared, but is surprised to observe that a lecturer has the
information needed to answer and rebut questions from the floor. I answered without
difficulty the queries of all who came up from whatever department. There was one
inimical graduate student in geology who loudly inquired: “Whom did you read on
Rancho La Brea?” And he suggested that this deposit contradicts my assertions. I
answered: “In my lecture I have not discussed Rancho La Brea; but I read Merriam’s
monograph.” “I worked with Merriam’s son,” said the student. Merriam was the
original investigator of that deposit at a time when it was on the outskirts of Los
Angeles— now it faces the “Miracle Mile,” the elegant shopping avenue. Actually
the asphalt beds of La Brea offer great difficulties for the uniformitarian theory of
evolution: human bones were found under a skeleton of an extinct vulture; a
multitude of bones, smashed and broken, were found there, not in good order or
shape— despite what the student had asserted in his question. Yet, the student
announced: “Catastrophes are your brainchildren,” and thus had the last word. I did
not answer. The audience applauded me warmly, and the student approached me to
offer his apologies for his rudeness.
In the course of the lecture I made two statements as to the future findings I expected;
after having reported on the manifold confirmations that had accumulated in the three
and a half years since the publication of Worlds in Collision I thought it proper to
conclude with one or two new predictions. For some time I had in my notes
suggestions for tests to be made. I put it this way:
In Jupiter and its moons we have a system not unlike the solar family.
The planet is cold, yet its gases are in motion. It appears probable to me
that it sends out radio noises as do the sun and the stars. I suggest that
this be investigated.
It is generally thought that the magnetic field of the earth does not
reach sensitively to the moon. But there is a way to find out whether it
does or does not. The moon makes daily rocking movements—
librations of latitude, some of which are explained by no theory. I
suggest investigating whether these unaccounted librations are
synchronized with the daily revolutions of the magnetic poles of the
earth around its geographical poles.
Actually, both tests suggested were derived from one and the same concept: that the
celestial sphere is not electrically and magnetically sterile.
After the lecture one of the graduate students who surrounded me told me about
certain folkloristic material of the Indians that would support my views; I observed
that he did not come forward to say this during the question period.
As I walked to my car, I chanced to meet in the dark the three ladies who had come
from Einstein’s house to my lecture: his daughter, Margot, his secretary, Helen
Dukas, and their friend, Gina Plungian. Later Gina told me that when she had called
to take Margot to the lecture and Miss Dukas joined them, Einstein said that he was
eager to go, too, but was conscious of the interest that would be centered on himself
to the detriment of the proceedings. He added, however, that he expected to receive
three reports from the three ladies. And he did. Gina Plungian later said that the
dinner hour at Einstein’s the day after the Forum was spent discussing my lecture,
and Einstein expressed sympathy for my position, that of a lone thinker defending his
ideas.
The Princetonian, the undergraduate students’ paper at Princeton, printed two articles
about the lecture. In the first it described how “with sheaves of documented evidence,
Velikovsky quoted a myriad of scientists in these fields whose recent work, he said,
made his theory more conclusive.” In the second article it said: “After his lecture last
night, he impressed all attending by his well-reasoned and well-documented answers
to questions posed by experts in physics, geology and other sciences.”
In the next few weeks I put the lecture into writing, following the notes I had before
me when addressing the Forum. After it was typed I gave a copy to Lloyd Motz,
astronomer at Columbia University. Since the beginning of 1950 I had met with him
on a number of occasions in his room on the upper floor of the Michael Pupin Physics
Building. The subject we discussed was always the same: my insistence that the solar
system, and by implication, the universe, is not electrically and magnetically sterile.
Since those memorable days at the end of 1949 and beginning of 1950, I would, at
intervals of five or six months, again and again return to Motz, trying to prove to him
by enumerating a series of physical facts, some of them discovered since our previous
meeting, that the accepted celestial mechanics could not be right in excluding
electricity and magnetism from participation in the movement of the celestial “clock.”
The arguments must have been much the same as those that I used in my letters to
Einstein in August and September of 1952. Motz would patiently listen and remain
adamant. I would describe the motion of the cometary tails and insist that the
accepted explanation of this phenomenon as being due to the pressure of light was
inadequate. I was trying to evince from Professor Motz the concession that this was a
decidedly insufficient explanation that could not account for the observation of a
large comet sweeping with its tail hundreds of millions of miles of space in a matter
of a few hours, when going around the sun at perihelion. Yet, he would still try to
explain it by the pressure of light. The sentence concerning the radio noises of Jupiter
startled him, and we discussed it.
I asked for a meeting with Professor V. Bargmann, a physicist who was possibly
closest to Einstein of all the scientists in Princeton. I remember the evening I visited
him in his room in Fine Hall on the campus. I discussed the question of
electromagnetism in the solar system. Instead of slowly preparing the issue in his
mind, I showered him with facts and details that indicated the inadequacy of purely
mechanical explanations. I assume that he must have been left with the impression
that I was a man stubbornly questioning fundamentals which were beyond
questioning. However, had he been present at my lecture in the Gradate College, he
would not think me without some knowledge, or with a deficiency in logic. At that
my first meeting with him, Bargmann was a patient listener, possibly believing me to
be irrepairably lost to a fallacious view of things celestial, or perhaps recognizing
some sound argument in what I said.
I left with him the typed text of my address before the Forum with its claims of radio
noises coming from Jupiter and a magnetosphere surrounding the Earth and reaching
the Moon. Though he intended to return it to me after he had read it, it so happened
that he misplaced it and only found it over three years later— all of which was
fortunate, and thinking of such incidents I could not help feeling that Providence was
taking part in these matters: for in the meantime, in the spring of 1955, radio noises
from Jupiter were discovered, as I had predicted in my lecture of 1953.
At McCarter Theater
A couple of weeks after my lecture before the Forum, it happened that at a concert at
McCarter Theater in Princeton we met Einstein. It may be that he made up his mind
to show a little of his change of heart in order to erase the impression of rejection he
had left with me over a year earlier. During the intermission he stood up, greeted us
from his seat a short distance away, and asked me to sit and chat with him. I took a
temporarily vacant seat in the row in front of him, turning my head to hear him speak.
There was something very unusual in this man. I am not a hero-worshipper, more
nearly an iconoclast: great names do not startle me, nor do they make me feel
humble. But in Einstein I felt this time something I had not felt on meeting him in
Berlin, when he was a jolly man in his early forties who had achieved singular and
spectacular success which was still new to him, and I was still in my twenties; nor
when I spent time with him again in New York in the spring of 1940, nor when I
visited him in the summer of 1946.
In 1921 he was a young-looking man with well-filled cheeks, warm and sparkling
eyes, a forehead framed by dark and wavy hair, and a moustache over soft lips, with a
ready laugh—almost the likeness of a bon-vivant. Epstein, who portrayed him several
years later as flimsy, furrowed, and wiry, did not succeed at all. Now, thirty years
later, at the age of seventy-four, the change in his appearance was very great. He had
grown old, yet stood erect, with his grey-white hair, now long, falling on his collar.
He had a kind face, and a clear and sonorous voice. Sufferings and private losses and
human destiny had cleansed him and spiritualized him. He looked at me with
kindness, and warmly pressed my hand with his own fleshy hand. The mattness of his
face lighted up.
I reminded him of the Scripta on which we had worked together in Berlin. This made
him wonder aloud on the mystery of time. Is time a stream flowing always in one
direction from the present to the past? Do the present, future and the past all exist
simultaneously? He wondered and asked me. Yet he brought counterargument to his
own thought: but we cannot remember things that are in the future. This did not
appear to me a valid argument, but I did not say so. Instead, I referred to Plato’s
discourse on simultaneous existence of the past and the future. The field of
parapsychology deals with such problems. Yes, once I wrote and published
something on the subject, and Freud commented in a letter. Einstein asked me
whether I still had Freud’s letters, and whether he could read one. I promised to select
a letter for him to read. And we continued so, already old friends, when the bell
I sent Einstein the letter of Freud that he wished to see. In that particular letter Freud
wrote me, as usual by longhand, that he had similar, almost identical ideas, and that
he would subscribe to the preface to my work written by Eugen Bleuler.
A single week passed. There was again a concert at McCarter Theater: Einstein
hardly showed himself twice a year in public, but this time he came again. Again,
during the intermission—he sat across the aisle—he asked me to take the vacant seat
next to him. Some of the Princeton graduate students sat in the row in front of my
wife, and she could hear them wondering at this fellowship: Einstein when in public
was of course the center of attention, though the public tried to make this not too
obvious. Einstein spoke of religion, and mentioned Spinoza, a spirit toward whom he
probably felt affinity. Like himself, Spinoza was a lonely man; like himself he was
not concerned with material goods; like himself he was in conflict with men, though
he was kind and humane; and like himself he was deeply religious, though not in the
church or synagogue, and it is no wonder, if one considers the great sufferings to
which his mentor Uriel Acosta was subjected—one of the saddest chapters in the long
story of the Jewish people. But Spinoza was an Aristotelian, without wishing to be so;
the cold reason which insists on explaining away anything unusual or singular
separated Aristotle from his teacher Plato, who tended to the esoteric, the wonderful,
and the singular.
Not long thereafter my wife and I received an invitation to have tea with Einstein.
The day before our visit I found in the mail a letter in which the writer, a resident of
Seaford in England, wrote:
Continuing a block or two along the street, one comes to Springfield Street on the
left, and this well-shadowed valley would bring Einstein on foot to the Institute for
Advanced Study—he had only to choose one of the streets with mansions or well-
kept villas, like Battle Road, to turn right and then he could already see the Institute,
built in the nineteenth-century style, in red brick, with a cupola and spire, standing
out across a field from the approaching visitor. In later years Einstein discontinued
his daily walk to the Institute and back and used the Institute vehicle, a kind of small
omnibus, which would pick him up as it did other members.
In the Institute he was rather lonely. I once read that Gödel, who used to travel on the
same bus, was closest to him of all the members of the Institute. Dr. Kurt Gödel, a
mathematician and a great introvert, who lived at the other end of the town, was a
silent man, with greying hair, who even in summer bundled himself against drafts,
and was certainly of limited inspiration for Einstein who, though solitary, was greatly
interested in human contact, warm in handshake, roaring with laughter. Gödel, like
other famous mathematicians in the history of this abstract and exact science,
produced the feat that made him famous at an early age, in his twenties, only to find
the spring dry in the following decades. They could converse on some philosophical
subject—I repeatedly saw Gödel on the third floor of the University Library studying
books on philosophy or psychology.
A man of very different disposition and much closer to Einstein was V. Bargmann, a
theoretical physicist, who was not a member of the Institute, but a professor at
Princeton University. He was—and is—an unswerving follower of Einstein, prepared
to offer a fierce front to anybody who would challenge Einstein’s theories. I believe
that among the physicists in Princeton Bargmann was closest to Einstein while the
younger generation of physicists showed a certain skepticism concerning the General
Theory of Relativity in view of its apparent conflict with Quantum Theory, and
because of Einstein’s rejection of Heisenberg’s Principle of Indeterminacy (“God
does not play dice”).
When, after three quarters of an hour, during which we were served tea, we rose to
go, Einstein kept us, saying, “We have only started.” In order not to appear a bore, or
a fanatic of one idea, I repeatedly changed the theme of conversation, as was so easy
with Eistein, whose associations were rich and whose interests were many; the
conversation was vivid. We spoke again of the problem of time, which apparently
occupied his mind then, and of coincidence and accident. He observed that it was an
accident of unusual rarity that his chair should occupy its very position in space, but
that it was no accident that we two were sitting together, because meshugoim are
attracted to one another—and he laughed heartily and loudly. Meshuga is a Hebrew
word, and it means “the possessed” ; in the Jewish-German parlance it is often heard,
and it means “crazy,” in both senses (like the English word), more often in its milder
meaning. Thus he likened me to himself. On this occasion, and several times more at
other occasions, he liked to stress that each one of us is entirely alone in his scientific
standing. This was also said to heighten my spirit—was he not lonely, too? Of course,
there was an enormous difference in our positions in the scientific community and in
the attitude of the scientific world toward us—beyond comparison. I took up the
problem of coincidences to illustrate it by several examples.
The authors of the Declaration of Independence were Adams and Jefferson, who
subsequently became the second and the third presidents of the United States. They
both died on the same day, and it was the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of
Independence. What is the statistical chance of this coincidence of three dates? Or if a
schoolboy or a man in the street should be asked to select the greatest statesman of
the nineteenth century, and the greatest scientist of that century, he would most
probably select Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin: both were born on the same
day, February 12, 1809. Or similarly the two greatest writers of their age, Miguel
Cervantes and William Shakespeare, died on the same day, April 23, 1616.
I mentioned these instances to illustrate the idea that coincidence sometimes bears the
mark of the miraculous, and sometimes the explaining away of telepathy is stranger
than telepathy itself, for which I offered a naturalistic explanation in my paper on
“The Physical Existence of the World of Thought.”
Before we left, Einstein told us of his dream of the night before. This dream
impressed him strongly and he recounted it it with a voice of unusual warmth and
passion, expecting that I would interpret it. He also related a dream he had had many
years ago about an old colleague whom he had not liked, and he told the story in
detail. The old dream’s explanation he already knew. I felt regret in having to
disappoint him, but in accordance with standard psychoanalytic procedure I offered
no clues to the understanding of the dream of the night before, especially since my
wife, Miss Dukas, and Margot were present, though I could closely guess its
meaning.
A Round Sun
Since Einstein at the time of my lecture before the Forum wished to be present, and
later had to satisfy himself with the reports of the three females of his household
(Gina Plungian could be counted as belonging to the household), I supplied him with
a copy of it.
January 6, 1954
I have carefully put into writing my lecture before the Forum of the
Graduate Students here (October 14, 1953). Doing so I was guided by
the desire to place it before you for reading.
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
After a few days Einstein invited us to come and discuss my lecture. Thus the wall
was breached. Until then, in our previous conversations that winter, neither he, nor I,
mentioned anything of my Worlds in Collision. But during this visit of February 11,
1954 I turned to Einstein and said:
"Now imagine that the Lord sent a messenger to you with these words: ‘I gave you,
Albert Einstein, a very unusual mind and, what is still rarer, the recognition and
admiration of your contemporaries. Now build a working plan for another universe;
only don’t apply gravitation that propagates at the inverse square, but electricity and
magnetism you may use as much as you need.’ Could you do this?”
"I would answer the Lord: ‘Do such a thing yourself!’” Einstein burst into a loud
laugh. But then he thought a few seconds and said: “Yes, on condition that it be a
dark universe.”
"Why?” I asked.
The problem he selected for discussion that evening, from a series of problems
mentioned in my lecture, was the round shape of the sun. Because of rotation it
should be somewhat flattened; and in addition the sun rotates at a greater velocity at
its equator than at higher latitudes. We spent the evening talking about this and a few
other points in my lecture; when my wife and I left, it was already late and Einstein’s
eyes were tired.
After a few hours of sleep, I awoke and jotted down my comments to various
arguments Einstein had brought up, especially discharge by photoelectric effect. It
appeared to me that this effect must charge a neutral body. In the morning I thought
of calling Helen Dukas and saying a few words of apology for our too long
conversation, when the phone rang and Miss Dukas said: “The professor would like
to talk to you.” His voice sounded resonant and clear, and I thought, if one does not
see Einstein but only hears him, he may imagine that he is speaking with a young
man. He said (as I recall):
"After our conversation last night I could not fall asleep. For the greater part of the
night I turned over in my mind the problem of the spherical form of the sun. Then
before morning I made light and calculated the form the sun must have under the
influence of rotation, and I would like to report to you.
"Imagine the sun as a body one meter in diameter; because of the slowness of
rotation—I took one rotation equal to 25 days—the deformity should be only"—I
believe he said—"a quarter of a millimeter.” While he was saying this I quickly
calculated in my mind (in general, I am not quick at figures), that this would amount
to about one half a second of the arc, the visible face of the sun being about half a
degree, or 1800 seconds, and, in his opinion, this small difference could escape
observation. I told Einstein his figure, translated into seconds of arc.
Very truly
Immanuel Velikovsky
14 Prospect Avenue
Princeton, New Jersey
I know that Dr. Donald Menzel even found an excess in the polar diameter which he
was “loath” to consider.
In March the world paid Einstein a renewed tribute at the occasion of his reaching
seventy-five years of age. His mail was coming in big sacks. I wrote him a quotation
from Emerson:
Beware when great God lets loose a thinker on this planet. Then all
things are at risk. It is as when a conflagration has broken out in a great
city, and no man knows when it will end. There is not a piece of
science but its flank may be turned tomorrow; there is not any literary
reputation, not the so-called eternal names of fame, that may not be
revised and condemned. The very hopes of man, the thoughts of his
heart, the religion of nations, the manners and morals of mankind are
all at the mercy of a new generalization.
In Einstein’s Study
On May 20, 1954 I went to see Einstein. This time I asked to see him. I wished to ask
him to read a part of my Earth in Upheaval in manuscript. There was also another
subject that I thought I ought to discuss with him. A few days before a correspondent
in California drew my attention to an article in Astounding Science Fiction in which I
was accused of inventing my sources. I realized the damage done by the Harvard
group had spread into pulp magazines read by common people. I had not complained
to Einstein before about the campaign of suppression and vilification carried on by
some groups of scientists against my theory and myself.
He received us this time in his study on the second floor, which has a large window
overlooking the garden in the backyard. It was about the time before sunset. He
asked:
“Would you like our conversation between four eyes or between eight?”
“The women will listen but not participate,” he said, expecting something important
to discuss with me.
“Like in a synagogue,” I remarked. But then I corrected myself. “No, I feel myself
here as Solomon Molcho must have felt in the palace of Pope Clement VII.” I
explained that this marrano, i.e, a Jew from a family that had been forcibly converted
to Christianity, was sentenced to die for reverting to Judaism and was burned as a
heretic in Rome by the Inquisition; but the next day he was alive in the inner
chambers of the Vatican discussing philosophical problems with the Pope. The Pope
had let another heretic be burned and hid Solomon Molcho. If only the Holy
Inquisition knew where he was! This was my way of referring to what my opponents
and detractors among the scientists might think and feel were they to know where I
was spending that evening.
“Is he a gentleman who permanently turns his pockets out to show that he did not
steal?” I quoted Vladimir Jabotinsky. I could not spend all my time proving that I
have not misquoted or otherwise misused my sources. But silence on the part of the
accused is understood as admission of guilt. Einstein agreed with me. And thinking of
“But you do not do better,” I said. Einstein’s face expressed surprise. “I do not think
of you personally, but of your colleagues, the scientists.” He wished to know more. I
went down and brought from the car a file with some of the letters exchanged
between Harlow Shapley and the Macmillan Publishers. He read them with great
interest. But we did not proceed far enough; we had not come to read the letter of
Whipple to Blackiston Publishers in Philadelphia, or the statement of Shapley in the
1
Harvard Crimson.
Einstein was obviously impressed and did not spare harsh words in characterizing
some of the actors in the campaign of suppression.
Einstein advised me to make the material public. I should, he said, find somebody
with a talent for dramatic writing and entrust him with the task of presenting the case.
He was obviously impressed and indignant. “This is worse than Oppenheimer’s
case.”
I mentioned that in Germany the church also opposed me, and in fact suppressed
Worlds in Collision at the hands of its publisher (Kohlhammer of Stuttgart). As in
America the book had a great success, and went through five printings in less than a
year when the lid fell down.
“But what should the church people have against the book?” asked Einstein, and
turned his face to me (as often during our conversations, he was sitting to my left).
The opposition of the churches to a work that provoked furor among the scientists
must have appeared to him incongruous. All this must have been thought, not said,
for my answer followed immediately:
Already at one of our earlier meetings, Einstein said to me: “I know how to explain
the great global catastrophes that occurred in the past.” He spoke then of vestiges of
an ice cover that were observed in the tropics and referred to an unpublished theory of
Charles Hapgood, who thought that growing ice caps can cause a slippage of the
terrestrial crust relative to the interior, thus displacing the poles. This evening
Einstein returned to the same idea and said that terrestrial causes could have been
responsible for the catastrophes. I told him that the problem of the displacement of
the terrestrial pole was already much discussed in the last century by astronomers and
geologists. “By whom and where?” he asked. “Here,” I said, about to leave, and
showed him the second (of three) files of the manuscript of Earth in Upheaval, “Here
you may find the arguments of that old discussion.” First he was reluctant to take
another manuscript for reading. The daily mail alone takes so much of his time, he
said, and standing at the top of the staircase, while I was a few steps down, showed
with his hands how thick was the bundle of his daily mail. But, hearing that the
physical problem of the terrestrial crust moving over the core is discussed in that file,
he took my manuscript.
It may be that I said more than I was aright to say when yesterday
evening I expressed myself that Einstein is humanly obliged not to be
indifferent to the wrong that was and is still done by an organized
group of scientists. But because of your position of a recognized leader
among scientists and fighter for human rights, I feel obligated to you
not to keep you uninformed.
Immanuel Velikovsky
and 220 I have marked with pencil such references. Please, show them
to Professor, if he likes to see them.
Professor wished also to see the passage concerning the solar eclipses
before -687, especially one seen in China, with reference to Venus in
the source. I have marked the passage in my reply to Stewart in
Harper’s. . . .
I enclose a few lines for Professor. I hope I have not tired him
yesterday too much.
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
Two days after our meeting Einstein wrote me a long handwritten letter—which was
rather unusual, since most of his letters were dictated and typed. He also returned my
file and supplied some of the sections with numerous marginal notes.
22.V.54.
2
The interpretation of the vote mentioned on pp. 159-160 as an attempt
at a dogmatic fixation of the “truth” is not obvious to me. It is simply
interesting for the participants of a congress to see how opinions
concerning an interesting question are divided among those present. I
don’t think that the underlying idea was that the outcome of the voting
would somehow insure the objective correctness of the outcome of the
vote.
From p. 182 on starts a wild robbers’ story (up to p. 189) which seems
to rely more on a strong temperament than on organized considerations.
Referring to p. 191: Blacket’s idea is untenable from a theoretical point
of view. The remark about the strength of magnetization seems to be
unjustified (p. 192); it could for example depend essentially upon the
speed of cooling as well as on particle shape and size. The direction of
the magnetic field during solidification must however quite certainly
determine the direction of magnetization. Bottom 192 etc.: wild
fantasy! from here on marginal remarks with pencil in the manuscript.
The proof of “sudden” changes (p. 223 to the end) is quite convincing
and meritorious. If you had done nothing else but to gather and present
in a clear way this mass of evidence, you would have already a
considerable merit. Unfortunately, this valuable accomplishment is
impaired by the addition of a physical-astronomical theory to which
every expert will react with a smile or with anger—according to his
temperament; he notices that you know these things only from
hearsay—and do not understand them in the real sense, also things that
are elementary to him. He can easily come to the opinion that you
yourself don’t believe it, and that you want only to mislead the public. I
myself had originally thought that it could be so. This can explain
Shapley’s behavior, but in no case excuse it. This is the intolerance and
arrogance together with brutality which one often finds in successful
people, but especially in successful Americans. The offence against
truthfulness, to which you rightly called my attention, is generally
human, and in my eyes, less important. One must however give him
credit that in the political arena he conducted himself courageously and
independently, and just about carried his hide to the marketplace.
To the point, I can say in short: catastrophes yes, Venus no. Now I ask
you: what do you mean when you request of me to do my duty in this
case? It is not clear to me. Be quite frank and open towards me, this can
only be good in every respect.
Your
A. Einstein.
It took me seven weeks before I replied to him. With my first drafts I was dissatisfied.
So many problems were raised that I could not possibly compress them into a letter of
reasonable length. I decided on the strategy of challenging Einstein’s contention that
terrestrial, not extraterrestrial (astronomical) agents caused the global catastrophes.
During the three weeks since I received your kind letter, I have
composed in my mind many answers to you, and made a few drafts. I
realized soon that I would be unable to compress all the problems into
one letter and I decided to try to achieve with this writing only one step
- to bring you closer to the insight that the global catastrophes of the
past were caused not by a terrestrial but by an extra-terrestrial cause.
Before discussing this, I would like to say that I am very conscious of
the fact that you give me of the most precious in your possession - your
time; and I would not have asked to pay attention to these matters if I
did not believe that my material may, perchance, serve you too,
whatever your conclusions should be. My delay in replying you is
certainly not an act of lack of attention; just the opposite - not a quick
reply, but a well thought through is a real courtesy.
You agree that (1) there were global catastrophes, and (2) that at least
one of them occurred in the not too remote past. These conclusions will
make you, too, to a heretic in the eyes of geologists and evolutionists.
Now, without re-examining the material that made you think so, you
would like to retreat from this position. On the other hand, in 1946 you
have brought two arguments against my theory, namely:
(1) “Dass diese Katastrophen nichts zu tun haben mit dem Planeten
4
Venus."
(2) “Dass auch die Rotationstichtung der Erde gegenuber der Ecliptic
keine erhebliche Aenderung hat erfahren konnen, ohne dass die ganze
5
Erdkruste vollig vernichtet worden ware."
The surmise that an asymmetrical growth of polar ice caused in the past
a sudden shifting of the terrestrial crust
case known where they actually did. By the way: the same argument, if
true, would be good against the motion of the terrestrial crust in
historical times.
Once more, I left for astronomers to choose: The earth was disturbed
by entering
You, too, would not have had any suspicion about my motives in my
book on folklore and ancient literature, were it not for the campaign
initiated by Shapley. The few pages on astronomy in my book were
edited by Lloyd Motz, professor of astronomy at Columbia University.
Too early you have thrown the mantle of Jewish compassion over
Shapley: you have seen only the beginning of the file of the documents
concerning the “Stargazers and Gravediggers” and their leader. His
being a liberal is not an excuse but an aggravating cirumstance. My
appeal to you to investigate this material was prompted by a new
attack, a few days before I last saw you. Then I immersed myself in my
work and calmed down.
Cordially,
Immanuel Velikovsky
My answer was written three weeks after I received his letter, but for an additional
four weeks I postponed sending it to him. Then when my wife brought it (she went to
see the new sculpture work of Margot), Einstein came in, and apparently was relieved
of a thought that he had perchance hurt my feelings by some of his remarks. He read
my letter immediately, and returned it and asked to see my Worlds in Collision, to
which some references were made in my letter. Next we had a call and invitation to
come and discuss the problems raised by my letter.
References
I replied, “Do you rely on your memory more than on your judgment?”—implying
that he agreed when my material was fresh before him, and disagreed when he hardly
could remember much of it.
Einstein still found attractive Hapgood’s theory that ice covers growing
asymmetrically caused the Earth’s crust to slide. He wished to explain the
catastrophes as the result of forces in the Earth itself. I asked how asymmetries of a
few degrees could bring the ice covers to latitudes of 45 degrees where the crust
would be the most liable to disbalancing. I also pointed out that his rejection of the
theory of isostasy, which claims that mountain ranges rest on deep subterranean
structures, undermines Hapgood’s position about the sliding of the Earth’s crust.
http://www.varchive.org/bdb/july.htm29/04/2005 14:34:19
Penelope
Penelope
During the fall of 1954 we did not meet due to Einstein’s poor health. He was told by
his physician, Dr. Dean, not to see people and to reduce much of his activity. Einstein
also ceased going to the Institute. As I heard later, at that time, in the late summer and
the fall, his blood condition deteriorated and could not but cause concern. The
medical findings were not known to the public, not even to acquaintances; in general
there was always a desire to keep personal matters out of the public view. Thus, for
instance, once during the period I describe in this book fire broke out in Einstein’s
house, an old frame structure with a porch, staircase and partitions, all well dried and
a little rickety, which could easily be enveloped by fire. It was a case of faulty wiring.
When the flames broke out, Einstein, the only man in the house, beat the fire out
singlehandedly, first closing the windows to cut off the fire from inflow of oxygen.
By the time the fire brigade arrived, the fire was already out. Such an event, if known
to newsmen, would certainly have made the front page; but it was kept secret, and the
fire department cooperated. The house was rewired.
The gravity of Einstein’s sickness was an equally well-kept secret. His mind was
inquisitive, but he was deprived of exchange of thoughts. Later I was told that he
repeatedly asked to see me; Miss Dukas, however, followed the doctor’s orders and
kept Einstein in isolation from all but his closest circle. To this circle belonged Gina
Plungian, mentioned on an earlier page, the ebullient, warm, outgoing admirer of
Einstein, who became like a member of his little household, almost like a fixture in
the house. For seven years she sculpted Einstein’s head, sitting as quietly as possible
in his study while he worked, not saying a word in order not to disturb his thoughts,
though this must have been a great privation to her, a great talker and an interested
listener to the personal matters of her acquaintances. Einstein and others of his
household used to call her, though not to her face, Penelope, because she used to spoil
the likeness she had already attained in clay, like the mythological figure who used to
unravel during the night the knitting she had done during the day in order to prolong
the process—or did it only seem that way? Whatever were Gina’s abilitites as a
sculptor, she tried not to disturb, and all she asked was to sit quietly in some corner
when Einstein worked. Some time earlier she and her family had moved away to
Chattanooga, Tennessee, where her husband, a chemical engineer, obtained a
position; yet Gina managed to come back, by plane or by bus, once in a while,
whether the “while” was a month or a week. She would spend the night at our place,
and the day at Einstein’s. During the fall of 1954 I asked her to carry a letter to
Mercer Street and bring back a reply. Giving her the letter to bring to Einstein, I
Knowing that he was still weak and not yet recovered from his severe anemia, I felt
that I had to add a human touch to my unbending stand in the problem we discussed.
The note read:
It is from the book of Genesis, from the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel; Jacob
rose that night, on his return to the land of his birth, passed over the ford of the
Yabbok, and was alone in the dark of the Canaanite night; “and there wrestled a man
with him until the breaking of the day.” The angel did not prevail and asked that the
struggle cease (“Let me go”), which Jacob refused to do unless his adversary would
bless him.
That evening upon her return from Einstein and again at the breakfast table the next
morning Gina told us that when she gave my letter to Einstein she, as instructed, read
him from my slip of paper the passage that was intended to mollify the impression
my intransigence could create. Einstein liked the passage very much. Of course he
understood whom I likened to Jacob and whom to the angel. In good humor he
observed: “But why should an angel be fearful of the daybreak? What kind of an
angel is it?” During the day he returned to that verse from Genesis more than once,
and at the dinner table he recounted it to Margot and Miss Dukas. But when in the
evening Gina was about to leave—in the meantime he wrote his answer to my letter
all along the margins—he called her aside and told her, in German as usual: “Please,
don’t say to Velikovsky that I remarked about the angel. Possibly Velikovsky is a
religious man, and this remark may hurt his feelings.” Gina told me and I was not
hurt; just the contrary—I thought that this was an example of how Einstein was
sensitive to the feelings of others. But it was still night, and the struggle had to go on.
I was not giving in; I was actually the attacking partner of the debate; the case of the
comet grazing the sun was the square on the chessboard which I selected for the
encounter decisive for the campaign to follow.
tails, as already mentioned on earlier pages, keep away from the sun: on approaching
the sun the tail moves behind the head of the comet; at the time the comet circles the
sun in perihelion, the tail sweeps the sky, almost like a stiff rod; and when the head
retreats from perihelion and rushes on its orbit back into space, the tail precedes the
head, again kept away from the sun. The behavior of the cometary tails is not in
accord with what should have been expected on the basis of gravitational forces; the
tails should be attracted to, not repelled by the sun. The problem was also in the
minds of astronomers of the nineteenth century. John Herschel wrote:
But when at the beginning of the present century the Russian physicist, P. Lebedew,
succeeded in demonstrating that light exerts pressure on the surface it falls upon, in
agreement with the postulate of Clerk Maxwell, he wrote: “this result is of
importance to astrophysics as furnishing a much simpler explanation of the repulsive
2
force of the sun than the hypothetical ones of electrical charges."
This pressure, or repulsion, is generally much smaller—in the case of the sun 20,000
times less—than the opposite action of the gravitational attraction; but calculation
shows that on particles of dust of a certain small diameter the pressure of light will
exert a greater force than will gravitation, and this because gravitation acts according
to the mass, and pressure according to the surface, and a small particle has more
surface in relation to its mass than does a larger particle. Although celestial
mechanicians never really tried to investigate the problem quantitatively, the
explanation was taken over into all textbooks. A quantitative analysis would show
that the force needed to drive particles away from the sun at the speed observed must
be between 200 and 2,000 times more powerful than the gravitational attraction
exerted by the sun, instead of being 20,000 times weaker; (both act as the inverse
square of distance—light and its pressure act four times weaker on an illuminated
surface when the distance from the source of the light is doubled). A comet may have
a tail as long as 100 million miles and thus reach all the distance from the sun to the
terrestrial orbit, or even 200 million miles and thus reach past the orbit of Mars.
Finally, the cometary tails obviously have on one hand particles larger than dust
grains and on the other hand they contain gases, but it is also obvious that light
cannot drive these larger particles as it drives molecules of gases, and on this alone
the argument capsizes—and leaves the behavior of tails unexplained.
The light of cometary tails is not just the reflected light of the sun; they glow by their
own light, a fact established by spectroscopic analysis. It appeared to me that the
comets are charged bodies, and possibly their tails and heads carry significantly
different charges.
On the other hand the rotating sun, if it is a charged body, must create a magnetic
field. Does not the corona when seen at full eclipse, or with the help of an occulation
disc (coronograph), have the appearance of magnetic lines of force as they can be
traced by the position of iron filings spread over a Compton paper, in the presence of
a magnetic field? Then would not a comet going through the corona of the sun be
subject to electromagnetic interactions? Further, is not a comet held away from the
sun by its magnetic field? But if comets are subject to electromagnetic forces when
close to the sun, they may be subject to the same forces when at some distance from
the sun, too; and if comets respond to forces besides gravitation, are not the planets
also responsive to some—large or small or minute—but some influence emanating
from the sun, besides gravitation, namely of electromagnetic nature? The
consequences are innumerable: is space empty, or filled with fields and influences?
This is a question not unlike the question in theology: Is there or is there not a God?
But now I was like a chess player sitting opposite the world champion, I being just an
amateur, a beginner, plotting my attack. I moved a pawn—but I placed it in such a
position that the champion immediately grasped the implications of my strategy. Let
this move stand, and one by one, the bishop, the castle, the queen, and the king
himself would all be under attack. The pawn could not be left in its threatening
position.
You can take a pawn from the board if you have a piece in position to do this, and if
the consequences will not be harmful; Einstein made his move. It was contained in
the remarks he made to a letter I wrote him on September 17, though I did not send it
until eight weeks later, with Gina Plungian. I included a note for Miss Dukas.
Einstein’s handwritten marginal annotations on my letter are here given as footnotes.
Immanuel Velikovsky
May I renew our discussion? At our last long conversation on July 21,
you have acceded that the cause of the global catastrophes of the past
could have been extra-terrestrial.1
The next step in my strategy is to show that the comets do not revolve
as neutral bodies around a neutral sun. I quote from H. Spencer Jones:
"The presence of bright lines in the spectra [of comets] can only be due
to a self-luminous body. . . . the electrical phenomena obtained by
discharge through a Gessler’s vacuum tube enable the assertion to be
made with a high degree of probability that the comet’s self-luminosity
is due not to an actual combustion, but to an electrical phenomenon."3
More facts point to a charged state of the comets. The envelope (coma)
of a comet contracts with the approach to the sun and expands with
recession, though in the heat of the sun the reverse could be expected.4
"There is good evidence that all particles in the comet influence the
motion of each other. The configuration of the streamers in the tails . . .
strongly indicates a mutual repulsion.” (N. Bobrovnikoff, “Comets” in
Astrophysics, ed. Hynek, 1951, p. 328).5
When prominences on the sun were observed to run one into another,
“both prominences participating in the action recoiled violently . . .
Strong electrical fields of the same sign might explain the
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
2 [E.: As far as the comet is concerned, you have unjustly claimed that
it orbited Jupiter for a certain time; this possibility I disputed. In fact,
through disturbance by Jupiter the comet repeatedly experienced a
strong change in its course, without being “caught” by Jupiter.]
3[E: This is very vague and has nothing to do with the actual problem
of motion.]
4 [E: This is a quite superficial way of inference. One would have first
to show that the phenomenon cannot be explained through an
independent movement of the tail, without assumption of specific
forces.]
The best I could wish was that Einstein would cede me the point; and the next best
that he would answer as he did; thus he documented the position of science on the
issue in 1954. Four years will pass and it will be admitted that the pressure of light
cannot, by a factor of 200 to 2,000, be the cause of the repulsion of the cometary
3
tails ;
the time will come when scientists will think it elementary that a comet crossing the
solar corona could not escape electromagnetic effects; but by then it will appear self-
understood that this is as it should be; and then I will need to prove that not so long
ago different notions prevailed; and how much easier it will be if a man whose
authority is unmatched should have written the verdict of science on the very
document in which I claimed a divergent view.
Johannes Kepler, mentioned in my letter and in Einstein’s notes, the discoverer of the
three laws of planetary motions known by his name, was a man to whom Einstein felt
a special sympathy, even affinity.
I was obstinate. I was determined to face the issue squarely on this most obvious
case—of a comet going through the corona of the sun. And I had to answer the
reference on Einstein’s part to Keplerian laws.
passing close to the sun; this effect was studied on Comet Encke. (J.
Zenneck, ‘Gravitation’ in Encyclop. d. Mathem. Wiss. vol. V, part I, p.
44).
By the way, Kepler himself regarded the motion of the planets and
comets on ellipses as originating wholly in the sun, and for a time
thought of magnetic action (electricity was not yet known; but Gilbert’s
book on magnetism already appeared in 1600). Kepler wrote:
If the lunar daily librations in latitude follow the rotation of the polar
magnetic field of the earth around the geographical pole, then the
magnetic field of the earth reaches sensitively to the moon. Among
lunar daily librations are some unaccounted for. According to H.T.
Stetson of M.I.T., a magnetic needle slightly follows the sun.
You have asked me: what do the specialists say about the shape of the
sun. I quote Donald Menzel of Harvard Solar Observatory (Our Sun,
1950, p. 39): “but the measures are as likely as not to indicate a polar
diameter greater than the equatorial, which we are indeed loath to
believe.”
cordially,
Im. Velikovsky
1 [E: No, that would be a miracle. If the forces of the solar system were
of an electrical nature then for instance the following would occur: if
the sun were charged positively, then the earth would have to be
charged negatively, and the moon again positively. The sun would then
repel the moon, so that the moon’s motion would deviate considerably
from the factual. Kepler’s third law which connects periods of
revolution and the radii of orbits of planets revolving around the sun
would not be valid because the charge of each of these bodies would be
independent of the charge of one another.]
3 [E: No, you have stated that the comet was for a time captured by
Jupiter. Only this I declared impossible.]
That the sun cannot have any appreciable electrical charge can be seen
from the following elementary consideration. The radiation of the sun
generates positive and negative ions in its atmosphere. If the sun was
originally (for example) positively charged, it would have repelled the
positive ions and hurled them into space. Thereby its positive charge
would be reduced. This process will last until the sun will have lost its
positive charge. This consideration is likewise valid for negative
charge.
The solar radiation produces also enough ions on the surface of the
planets and moons for a charge to disappear in a short time.
References
February 2, 1955
All I wanted in my last letter to you was to gain the concession that a
comet, going through the corona of the sun or through an outburst of
ionized gases, sustains an electromagnetic effect. The consequences of
opening the gate to such an effect into the heavenly mechanics force
the astronomer to disregard physical experiences, in order not to violate
in the least the system of 1666. But in fact the comets do not follow
precisely Kepler’s third law: those that pass near the sun (like Encke’s
comet) show acceleration unexplained by gravitational mechanics.
Do you remember how I asked you: If the good Lord would give you
the task to conceive a plan for a new universe, where gravitation of the
Enclosure 1
But hitherto I have not been able to discover the cause of those
properties of gravity from phenomena, and I frame no hypotheses . . .
Plan 1
b) The exactness with which the positions of the planets are predicted.
c) The discovery of Neptune and Pluto (Neptune’s position, but not its
distance from the Sun was calculated in advance; Pluto’s mass is by far
not sufficient to explain the disturbances it causes).
1. The Sun, Jupiter and Saturn rotate quicker on their equators; the
rings of Saturn rotate quicker than the planet. The inner satellite of
Mars revolves quicker than Mars rotates; the sun possesses only 2% of
the “angular momentum” of the solar system.
2. The Sun’s protuberances gain in speed with the distance from the
Sun. They fall back as if attracted to the place from which they erupted,
falling back (as if on a rubber band) to the sun without acceleration.
5. The Moon and [some] other satellites always show their planets the
same face.
6. The comets’ tails are turned away from the sun and move in
perihelion with a speed approaching the speed of light; no attempt at
quantitative calculation has been made in this direction.
Plan 2
Since static electricity also acts according to the inverse square law, its
presence is masked by gravitation. From this follows: The masses of
the heavenly bodies are not exactly calculated.
1. The Sun too has a general magnetic field the strength of which is
estimated very differently—the difficulty lies in the angle of
observation. The corona has a form which resembles the lines of force
of a magnetic field and extends far out.
5. The polar lights consist of electrical charges which come from the
sun and which, after eruptions on the sun, or after the passage of a big
sunspot, influence radio transmission and ground currents, and cause
magnetic storms.
7. The fact that comets glow in cold space (lines of emission), and also
the contraction of their heads when closer to the sun, speaks for an
electrical effect.
The other argument against this plan is in the assumption that the sun
cannot be charged because it would repel the surplus ions. I would
answer: According to spectral analysis, the atoms on the sun have been
left without many, often without any orbiting electrons. Could not the
electrons which have left the protons in their closest proximity where
the attraction is tremendous, also have left the sun entirely? Actually
the sun hurls out charged particles (polar lights, also cosmic rays) as if
it were charged and would like to reach a neutral state. (However the
sun, charged as it is, changes its charge imperceptibly: were it not so,
then the system would constantly change its paths.)
Another reply: In the atom the same problem exists: how can charges
of the same sign hold together in the nucleus?
Now a third reply: The stars, which are strong magnets, must also be
electrically charged, because no electrical currents can exist at such
temperatures. Why do the surplus protons or electrons stay there? And
if there, then probably also on the sun.
Plan 3
This would mean that the force which we know from our experience on
earth as gravitation does not effectively reach the moon.
same time we know that the atmosphere has an electric potential and
that the potential difference strongly increases with distance from the
ground, but probably could be almost identical in different laboratories.
1. In the case the planets are all of the same charge (positive or
negative), they would repel each other. But would they not behave like
two parallel conductors which attract each other when their currents
flow in the same direction?
2. If, for instance, the sun is positive and the earth negative, then the
moon would again be positive, and the sun would repel the moon.
Plan 4
c. the behavior of cometary tails; also the fact that comets are attracted
to the sun from great distances, but were never seen falling into the sun,
even though they are unstable in their orbits;
d. the position of the moon and other satellites which continuously turn
the same face to their planets;
also the fact that the sun is hotter in the corona than in the photosphere;
and several other facts.
Against this (4) plan speak the enormity of electric and magnetic forces
necessary to make this plan effective.
The sun moves in relation to the stars; it rotates; the charged planets
revolve around the sun, and create a Rowland magnetic field. How
does the magnetic field between the sun and the planets behave, and
how quickly does it decrease? (The calculations which I received from
several young physicists differ greatly and go all the way from 1/r to 1/
r4).
It is apparent that plans 2 and 4 sin less against facts and observations
than do plans 1 and 3. In order to decide between plan 2 and 4 the
Cavendish measurements between impeccably neutral bodies must be
repeated. But how impeccably? The electrical repulsion between two
protons is 1040 times stronger than their gravitational attraction.
Yours
Immanuel Velikovsky
____________________________________________________________
[It should be noted that during the last two decades or so of Velikovsky’s life, the
ideas that had been expressed in Cosmos Without Gravitation and in the fourth of
the “Four Plans of the Universe” no longer reflected Velikovsky’s approach to the
extent that they once did. In particular, he backed off considerably from the idea of
circumduction as a non-gravitational, non-inertial account sufficient in itself to
explain orbital motions, and he also backed off from any general suggestions that
gravity and inertia might somehow be banned from the celestial arena. What he often
said in his later years was, not that gravity and inertia played no role, but rather that
they did not play the only role, that is, that gravity and inertia were not alone
responsible for what occurred in the celestial arena: electromagnetic interactions
also played a considerable role in cosmic events—especially when celestial bodies
were in close approach to each other, but also even when they were far apart.
The Space Age brought the myriads of artificial satellites that orbit Earth on different
planes and in different directions. Clearly Earth with its magnetic field does not
“circumduct” these artificial satellites around itself in a common plane, nor is it able
to control their direction of movement. In such cases, some of the lesser variations
and perturbations might still be attributed to electromagnetic factors, but gravity and
inertia would remain the principal determining factors. It was no doubt such
considerations as these that led Velikovsky to change his stance here. In any case,
each of “The Four Plans of the Universe,” even the fourth, should be taken as a
“construction,” a working hypothesis for the purposes of discussion, not as a final
position. The same is true of Cosmos Without Gravitation: not all of the ideas that
were formulated in that early monograph were ones that Velikovsky continued to
adhere to in his later work.
Nevertheless, it must be emphasized that Velikovsky did not ever abandon the idea
that gravity itself might eventually be interpreted as an electromagnetic phenomenon,
nor did he ever abandon the idea that the solar magnetic field might to some extent
be responsible for the fact that the planetary orbits are roughly co-planar and for the
fact that all nine of the major planets, and apparently all of the minor planets as well,
orbit the Sun in a counterclockwise direction.—Lynn E. Rose]
March 4, 1955
In the beginning of March Einstein started again to visit the Institute; a call came
from him through Miss Dukas: would we not come that evening?; he would like to
discuss my letter.
Einstein was in his study, his feet wrapped in blankets, and an electric heater burning
close by; he stood up in an attempt to bring us blankets too, though it was not cold in
the room. A glass of water was on the table in front of him. I had not seen him since
he became sick over a half year earlier. His face was rounder, his composure was
mellower. He would not argue as vigorously as he usually did, and less often laughed
his uproarious laugh.
He read my letter aloud, line after line, and discussed it; he read with great relish the
page of Newton’s that I included—the very last page from the Principia, where
Newton made a prophetic statement concerning the role of electricity in nature; and
we discussed Newton’s discoveries, and the discoveries of Kepler of the ellipticity of
planetary orbits. Einstein read my explanation of gravitation as a dipole, but could not
see how I explained inertia; of his own work he thought this was the greatest
achievement, his stressing the equality of gravitational and inertial masses (I quoted
de Sitter that Newton himself regarded this equality as a remarkable coincidence).
In general Einstein was on the defensive—insofar as he had to deny many facts and
explanations that are accepted in astronomy: he saw the consequence for celestial
mechanics where the people who formulated the theories did not see them. In our
discussion I mentioned for instance that the unusually high energy of cosmic rays is
explained by the existence of magnetic fields in which, as in a cyclotron, charged
particles are accelerated in the solar corona, whirled to very high energies. But if
there is such a field, the earth, a magnet, must also experience an effect as it travels
through it—an argument that came to my mind on the way to Einstein’s house that
evening. Seeing this consequence, Einstein denied the existence of such a field; the
other explanation, that cosmic rays achieve their energy because they are accelerated
by a charged earth, certainly did not help him out of the difficulty: therefore he stated
that we do not know what causes high energy cosmic rays. The circumstance that the
sun rotates more quickly at the equator than at higher latitudes Einstein thought to
explain possibly by some thermal effect. But the same phenomenon is observable on
Jupiter, and he wondered that Jupiter is cold; could it not possibly be hot? Are not its
satellites illuminated by it?
As to comets’’ tails, Einstein expressed his disbelief in the high velocities achieved
by the tails, and when I referred to John Herschel and W. Pickering, he wished to see
the statements. After a few days I mailed these statements to him:
March 7, 1955
I thank you again for the discussion of the first 8 pages of my letter.
Here are the quotations from John Herschel and W. Pickering I have
mentioned in our last conversation:
“What has puzzled astronomers since the time of Newton, is the fact
that while all other bodies in the sidereal universe, as far as we are
aware, obey the law of gravitation, comets’ tails are clearly subject to
some strong repulsive force, which drives the matter composing them
away from the sun with enormously high velocities.”
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
Now she was immersed in reading the account of my experiences. In the quiet
atmosphere of the evening, with no exchange of sentences between Dukas and
Elisheva, no telephone calls, no doorbell rings, Einstein and I took up passage by
passage. That evening we read the third and fourth systems. The third system—the
one which has the sun, planets, and satellites carrying static electrial charges,
providing the mechanism of attraction, was included for the sake of completeness; the
argument that if the sun attracts the earth because of the opposite signs of their
charges, it would repel the moon which, in such a plan must have a charge of a sign
opposite to that of the earth, but of the same sign as the sun, disposes of this system;
it is an obvious argument, and it was also used by Einstein in one of his letters when
he did not suspect that my own interpretation of the electromagnetic effects in the
solar system was similar at least in some respects to a rather different model, which
model was presented as the fourth system. According to it, the central body—the
sun—carries an appreciable charge, and by rotating creates an extended
electromagnetic field; charged planets move through the field—or are carried by it;
those that rotate create magnetic fields and their satellites move through them; their
motion is counterclockwise, or clockwise, depending at least in some cases upon the
sign of the charge.
Einstein was obviously greatly interested and intrigued by the fourth model. When
reading the text we encountered the issue of the decrease of the intensity of a field
issuing from a dipole, as the inverse cube of the distance, which would require a
greater charge for planets more remote from the sun in order that the overall effect
should still follow the inverse square law, and by way of analogy I mentioned that
this is the arrangement in the atom, where the electrons on external orbits carry more
energy than those on internal orbits; Einstein’s face immediately lighted—he was
obviously struck by the analogy. This lighting of the face I observed twice that
evening: it was as if a hunter suddenly perceived his game.
"And why do you need gravitation at all?” asked he, obviously fascinated by the
model. But immediately he corrected himself: “Oh yes, in order to account for the
phenomena on earth.”
For the second time his face uprighted and lighted up when I mentioned that in this
system the satellites, depending in part on the sign of their charge, revolve directly
(counterclockwise) or retrogradely (clockwise).
His concentration that evening, the omission of counter-argument on his part, usual in
our debates, and the great delight that he experienced in reading for three hours the
few pages—the second half—of my paper, made us feel closer to each other than at
any other meeting. And it was this that made him say at the end of that evening: “I
think that it is a great error that the scientists do not read your book—there is much
that is important in it” ; and even more, that made him confess to me that among the
scientists he had met during his lifetime he valued completely, as a human being,
only one man—Lorentz of Holland, all others having shown human deficiencies. He
expressed himself strongly, and it was a surprise to me that he, regarded by all as so
humane and so forgiving, in his unique position which brought him recognition and
admiration from everybody, should be so severe a judge of the human nature of all
the scientists he knew, famous and obscure. He was standing, animated, telling me
what, possibly, he had never said to any outsider; yet Miss Dukas, who was kept
awake during the quiet evening by reading my “Stargazers,” now by her response to
Einstein’s words displayed her knowledge of his attitude. Experience had taught him
to regard his fellow men with suspicion and to see their moral inadequacies—it
sounded almost as if he were a misanthrope, and this suprised me greatly; but I also
felt that he was taking me into his confidence as he had possibly never taken anybody
of the outside world. He was certainly very good to me that evening; I felt some tie of
great tenderness, and goodwill, and confidence.
"A theory,” he said, “has a much greater chance for acceptance if it can predict a
phenomenon” ; with these words he parted with me and then he went down the stairs
to the door to press my hand again; he said also something about how he enjoyed the
evening with me. In his words about a theory attaining success if it can predict a
phenomenon was clearly a wish that I should be able to produce such a prediction,
and there sounded a sincere desire that my theory should prove true.
I felt as if Einstein blessed me that night. “And he said, Let me go, for the day
breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.” I probably did not
think of these words that I had sent him several months earlier; but I felt an
achievement: after all these months of debate about the participation of
electromagnetic forces in the working of the universe, now for the first time I had
made him understand how I envisaged the plan. The classical plan was compromised
by evidence; the static electricity plan did not stand up against argument; but the
other two plans—in both of which electromagnetic effects take part in varying
degrees—vie for the position of the true system of the world. Now he knew that I was
not contemplating a model in which electromagnetism played a static role of
attraction and repulsion, but one in which it played predominantly a dynamic role. I
presented my discourse in the dispassionate terms of a brief review of four
contestants, and left it to reason, calculation, and experiment to make the selection.
The magnetic field of the earth, the origin of which is a mystery, would be a direct
effect of a charged body in rotation; the great, almost unimaginable energies
measured in billion billion electron volts with which some cosmic rays approach the
earth could be explained by the magnetic field in space but especially by the charge
of the earth—and in consequence, the linear acceleration experienced by these ray-
particles.
For his birthday letters came from all parts of the world, from royalty, academies,
statesmen, scientists, the clergy, the military, artists, housewives, students and
schoolchildren.
With a short note I sent him my Ages in Chaos, which he had not seen (it was
published three years earlier) and Elisheva added that year a kiln-burnt ashtray which
Margot chose for him out of several, just the littlest present, a thing hardly worth
thanking for.
Many letters had Miss Dukas to write to royalty, to statesmen, and to the rest in reply
to their good wishes, and she typed them. Einstein hardly wrote even a few of the
acknowledgements by his own hand: it would have been an insurmountable task.
Three days after his birthday he wrote by hand one of his last letters, the last to me, or
to us, since it was addressed to my wife and myself. He referred to his birthday as
“unpropitious,” and how right he was. It was his last. “Soon the Devil will take me,”
he once said to me; but deep down he was a religious man and in these words there
was as if a confession of man’s sinful nature, in his calling Death by the name of the
Devil. Although he was referring to the birthday as unproptious, he had many plans
and much work to do—the low round table in his study often had papers with
calculations by his hand, and his great and protracted effort to solve the problem of
the unified field theory was still evading final solution.
The following translation into English is as close as the idioms of the two languages
permit. He used “corns” for toes.
17.III.55
Your,
A. Einstein
This letter, for the brevity of which he asked consideration, was written four weeks
before his death. By then he had read for the third time my Worlds in Collision, and
was looking forward with anticipation to reading my historical work, Ages in Chaos.
His saying that he would enjoy the embarrassment to which my work would probably
subject the historians while his own field would be left untrespassed, speaks for the
difficulties he had lately experienced and for the thoughts during his waking hours in
the dark of the night—his sleep was not good—provoked by our discussions in which
I acted as if I were the advocate retained by two natural forces, electricity and
magnetism, persistent in my calls and letters, unyielding, never retreating.
A year earlier, upon reading the exchange of letters between Shapley and the
Macmillan Company, Einstein said that the material must be made public but that
somebody with dramatic talent should be entrusted with the presentation of the story;
now, upon reading the manuscript, he obviously found that I had succeeded in the
task.
The first folder of the “Memoirs” was returned to me—several of its sections were
supplied with marginal notes by a pencil, not a sharp pencil to boot. On the back of
one of the pages with the story of Larrabee’s article in Harper’s, Einstein wrote:
Translation:
If one should compare this evaluation with his own of 1946 ("Blamage” ) or of 1950
or of 1952 or even of 1954, one must recognize how much Einstein’s attitude had
changed. He did not protest any more or argue against the events described, neither
against the earth being disturbed in its rotation, nor against the role ascribed to
Venus; even more remarkable was the fact that he no longer rejected outright the role
of electromagnetism in the events and thus, in the celestial sphere in general: he
would only have wished that I should not express myself with such finality. By this
he made it clear that the explanation which I gave to the events was not
undiscussable—but only that I should have offered it merely as a hypothesis.
Strangely, one of Einstein’s marginal notes to my chapter on Lafleur agreed with the
latter’s argument that the Earth is neutral because of the behavior of the leaves of an
electroscope touching the ground—they do not diverge. To me it was clear that the
behavior of the leaves does not give an answer to the question whether or not the
Earth is charged. The Earth being charged in relation to the upper atmosphere, the
lines of force would pass in near-parallels vertically and, consequently, there would
be no divergence of the leaves of the electroscope. Nikola Tesla was a great inventor,
perhaps the greatest electrical engineer who ever lived; he would not have asserted
that the Earth is a highly charged body if such a simple test with an electroscope
could solve the problem. Actually, there is a permanent stream of electrons flowing
from the ground upwards: it is calculated that between the feet and the head of a
standing man of medium height there is a 150 volt potential. The source of this
stream of electrons, or of the source of replenishment of the permanent discharge of
the Earth, is not known.
The question of whether the bodies of the solar system are charged or not was from
the beginning the question between Einstein and myself; as he acknowledged in a
marginal note to my letter of June 16, 1954, this contention of mine was the main
reason for the display of indignation against myself and my work. On that page of the
letter, as the reader will remember, I offered a test to find whether or not the planetary
bodies are neutral. At that time, in the summer of 1954, Einstein did not undertake
anything in answer to my challenge and request; my offer to stake our debate on
whether Jupiter is a source of radio waves, he dismissed in his marginal note, and I
could not ask for the test again—it was the time when Einstein became sick, the
sickness having kept him weak through the entire fall. But when we parted close to
midnight on March 11, after having spent two long sessions at a week interval
reading my essay, he said those words about the ability of a theory to predict and see
its prediction fulfilled.
Jove’s Thunderbolts
In the spring of 1955 Providence wished that the drama should heighten itself. The
old chief of all the pagans, the planet Jupiter, was destined to enter the scene and
speak.
It was a spring day in early April in Princeton. This is the time of year when magnolia
flower, and the Princeton campus has not a few of these trees, especially near the
Firestone Library, profusely blooming. During the first week of April of that year the
semi-annual meeting of the American Astronomical Society convened for three days
in Princeton, in the University’s Chemical Building (Frick Laboratories). I entered
the auditorium during the reading of one of the papers, when the audience was
already seated, and chose a place on one of the back benches, close to the entrance. I
did not wish to disturb the convention by my presence because, being recognized, I
would have caused some discomfort. After listening to Dr. W. Baade and possibly to
one more speaker, I left as quietly as I entered—I did not return for other papers. The
program of the three-day convention had one hundred and two papers presented by
astronomers from all over the country, but only one—not scheduled, yet read because
of the great impact it carried in the field of planetary astronomy—made news. The
next day, April 6th, opening the New York Times, I found a page-length column on a
sensational discovery reported at the meeting. The column read in parts:
Radio waves from the giant planet Jupiter have been detected by
astronomers at the Carnegie Institution in Washington.
The waves appear to be short bursts of static, much like those produced
by thunderstorms on conventional radio receivers . . . no radio sounds
from planets in our solar system have been reported previously . . . the
existence of the mysterious Jovian waves was disclosed by Dr. Bernard
F. Burke and Dr. Kenneth L. Franklin in a report today at a meeting of
the American Astronomical Society here . . .
The two scientists said that they did not have an explanation for the
observed emission.
The discovery was made entirely by chance when the Carnegie Institution
astronomers scanned the sky for radio noises from far-away galaxies. In the news
release it was told that Burke and Franklin, who detected the radio noises of Jupiter,
were entirely unprepared to observe any radio signal from the planet; later their
perplexity was more fully described: at one point they even assumed that some
revellers returning from a party were the cause, trying to start the engine of their car,
or that the radio noises were caused by some experiments on a neighboring radio
station. But the noises were finally traced to Jupiter: in the weeks that followed,
Burke and Franklin observed that the signals were arriving four minutes earlier each
day and at length they realized that they must be of extraterrestrial origin. Every third
night, for six minutes, when the receiving antenna was directed toward the spot
crossed at these minutes by Jupiter, the signals repeated themselves. Then the
astronomers of Washington came to the correct conclusion, unexpected and
surprising as it was.
For me, this news had a special significance. My own earlier expectation of the noises
of Jupiter was based on my view of the giant planet as the center of a powerful
electromagnetic system. In ancient sources the planet Jupiter was associated with
thunderbolts.
Before World War II, a discovery was made by Jansky of the Bell Laboratories that
radio signals arrive from the Milky Way. During the War it was discovered by the U.
S. Army Signal Corps in Belmar, New Jersey, that the sun sends out radio noises, too:
it was a chance discovery made in the process of testing radar echoes from the moon.
Then radio noises were found arriving from far-away galaxies and were explained as
crashes between galaxies riding through one another. A new
science—radioastronomy—was born.
My understanding of the nature of the sun and planets made me assume that these
bodies are charged, or that at least their atmospheres are strongly ionized. Of Jupiter
and Saturn it is known that they influence in some mysterious manner the solar spot
activity: but nobody thought that these bodies or their atmospheres are charged.
Now, seeing my claims confirmed, I called Helen Dukas and told her that I would
like to acquaint Professor Einstein with the discovery of the noises coming from
Jupiter, and wished to see him, for a few minutes only—we agreed that I should come
Friday, April 8th, in the afternoon. Then I called my editor at Doubleday, Walter
Bradbury, and told him that I would come the next day, in the morning. Already on
the phone I drew his attention to the column in the Times. My book, Earth in
Upheaval was being prepared for print, together with my lecture before the Forum of
1
October 14, 1953 as a supplement, and this lecture contained my challenge that
Jupiter would radiate radio signals. For several years I wished that a check should be
The Forum lecture, a discussion of my theses of 1950 in the light of new discoveries
in the fields of archaeology, geology, and astronomy, brought in its wake, even
sooner than I dared to hope, a confirmation of a bold yet well-founded advance claim.
the discovery of the Jupiter noises thrilled me as had no other confirmation before,
and it was the first of a long and spectacular series.
References
1. The text was already copy-edited the summer before by Mrs. Kathryn Tebbel,
a copy-editor at Doubleday, and the passage carries her pencil marks with two
minor stylistic corrections. Thus Doubleday could witness that my lecture
about Jupiter was in their hands long before the discovery was made.
“A Near Miss”
On April 8th I saw Walter Bradbury, the managing director of Doubleday, and my
editor. He offered to write to the astronomers in Washington—though I told him not
to expect anything favorable for me in their response. The same day he wrote this
letter:
April 7, 1955
“In Jupiter and its moons we have a system not unlike the solar family.
The planet is cold, yet its gases are in motion. It appears probable to me
that it sends out radio noises like the sun and the stars. I suggest that
this be investigated.”
Yours sincerely,
Walter I. Bradbury
Managing Editor
The answer, signed by Bernard F. Burke and Kenneth L. Franklin, was written on
April 12, 1955, and in order not to return to this issue for a while, I give already here
the answer:
Your letter of April 7, 1955, referring to our recent radio work has been
received.
Sincerely,
Bernard F. Burke
Kenneth L. Franklin
As in all our conversations since the the previous summer, Einstein received us in his
study on the second floor. As usual we found him standing in front of his chair to
greet his visitors on entering the room. We sat in chairs, the low round table before
us. On the table were pages with figures and calculations that Einstein was working
on. He sat on my left, close by.
I could not keep to my intention of spending only a few minutes with him because he
started on a different subject:
“I have carefully read your memoirs to Worlds in Collision, the first two files in their
entirety, and most of the third file. It is very well written. But you should shorten it
and omit some parts that do not sound proper. The book must be a collection of
documents.”
This section, called “Nearer the Gods no Mortal May Approach,” was a biting satire
on the astronomers, who have taken over the role of ancient priests in society; they
were assured by Halley:
Of Newton, Halley said: “Nearer the gods no mortal may approach.” In this early
version of the essay I finished this satire with a sentence from Charles Fort: “The
astronomers explained. I don’t know what the mind of an astronomer looks like, but I
think of a fizzle with excuses revolving around it.”
I accepted Einstein’s criticism without discussing it, and only asked whether he had
read the section about himself, “Before the Chair of Jupiter.” He said that he had read
it, and smiled approvingly; obviously he liked it.
We did not yet discuss Jupiter; I was precluded from touching the subject by his
announcement:
“I could explain everything you describe in your book on the basis of the accepted
celestial mechanics of gravitation and inertia.”
“Even the circular orbit of Venus,” he answered, “though this would require a very
unusual degree of coincidences.”
I admit—I was not equal to the task. Most probably the rush in the morning to New
York and then back to Princeton drained me of my usual control—because at all our
meetings I was very conscious of every word I said and turn I made. Here, instead of
asking him to explain how would he, in theory, be able to make the orbit of Venus
almost circular, I permitted myself to slip into a side track: instead of pressing him to
tell me his treatment of the facts described in my book concerning celestial
mechanics, I sidestepped to answer that part of his challenge that referred to Darwin.
It can be understood, because there I knew more than Einstein, and I could elaborate
on my opposition to the dogma of uniformity—the discourse of the concluding
chapters of Earth in Upheaval. And, of course, I could not know that this was our last
meeting.
Sometime during this visit I took out my letter to him with his marginal note
concerning Jupiter, reminded him very shortly what had been discussed between us
ten months earlier, and then read a few sentences from the New York Times of the day
before about Jupiter. By now he was sitting to my right, facing me. He became
obviously very much taken by what he learned, and the next question he asked was
this: “But how did you come to this conclusion?”
Should I have gone once more through all the gamut, played already more than once,
and claimed the charged state of Jupiter—because if the solar system is charged,
Jupiter would be the focus of much of that charge? Did not also the ancients, from
one end of the world to the other, speak of Jupiter’s thunderbolts by which the “three-
fold mountain masses fell”? Why did the ancients pray to this planet and sacrifice to
it? Or why are Jupiter and Saturn in some way connected with the sun spot periods?
1
By gravitation alone they could not produce such an influence.
Or why does the perturbation activity between Jupiter and Saturn suffer changes
(between the minimum of the year 1898-1899 and the maximum of 1916-1917 there
2
was found an 18 percent difference).
And did I not apply the name “a dark star” to Jupiter in the Epilogue to Worlds in
Collision? Charged and swiftly rotating, it must create an extended and rotating
magnetic field in which its charged satellites move. . . Yet I hardly mentioned these
things.
But he was embarrassed. Had he not told me when parting after our last meeting in
March about the great importance for the acceptance of a theory that it be able to
generate accurate predictions? This was on March 11th. Now, four weeks later, I
brought him the message that the very probe that I offered as a crucial test between
our stands came out in my favor. Now he inquired what my reasons had been. It was
not easy to answer his question, because Einstein became very emphatic. He stood
up. His face was glowing. He spoke loudly, in a way I had never heard him speak
before. “Which experiment would you like to have performed now?” he asked, in
obvious desire to mitigate his guilt, because the previous summer he had not given
enough attention to my request, and he let my suggestion go without action on his
part.
More than once Einstein had asked me to disregard the attitude of my opponents, to
enjoy the solitary way, to take an example from him. Now he felt that he had failed
me—the test was not made, whether to prove me right or wrong. He answered his
own question: “I know which experiment you would like now—the Cavendish
experiment in a Faraday Cage.” This was mentioned in my paper we read in March,
and he remembered it—I also proposed it in my June, 1954 letter, right after
proposing the Jupiter test.
“No,” I said. “I prefer you help me now to have a radiocarbon test for my historical
work performed.” And I explained in a few sentences what this test is about. He was
more than willing to help. “This will be done,” he spoke loudly and gesticulated, and
repeated again, “This will certainly by done.” He was still standing in his excitement.
He asked details of what he should do. I told him that I would like him to write to Dr.
W. C. Hayes of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He again asked me to let him know
what exactly he should request and I promised to prepare a short draft in a few days.
But soon he sat again close to me, almost touching my left arm, and listened to me,
and peace descended on him; his long hair hung framing his face, his eyes were
looking across the room through the picture window toward the upper branches of the
big trees in the back yard, and the expanse of the sky.
“Oh, look. Please look,” he cried out and grasped my hand, “the birds are flying in
big flocks.”
Hundreds of birds in a fluttering swarm flew at a distance, all in one direction, and
the swarm moved in a wave-like motion down and up as they hurried by. I looked for
a few moments at the flying birds, and then continued my words. But soon again
Einstein, enchanted, looked at another swarm of birds returning from their winter
quarters in the south, and again could not resist calling my attention to them. He
followed their flight with longing, and his face shone with sweet sadness. It was
already the hour of twilight, the trees stood silent outside, still leafless, the branches
hardly moving in the stillness of the clear and balmy hour.
We spent over two hours together, a little less than at our other meetings, but
certainly longer than the “few minutes” intended.
References
1. Fox of Vancouver, Canada, found that the influence of Mars on the solar
sunspot cycle exceeds by twenty-five times the influence it would be expected
to have on the basis of gravitation alone. (AAAS Convention, Feb. 25, 1974,
Evening Session).
2. J. Zenneck, “Gravitation” in Encyclop. der Mathem. Wiss., vol V. pt. I, p. 44.
It took me a full week to prepare the few details for Einstein so that he could write to
Dr. W. C. Hayes of the Metropolitan Museum concerning the desired radiocarbon
tests—but the real cause of my procrastination was my desire to answer Einstein on
two points of our debate. Is it possible to measure the charge of the Earth with an
electroscope? Is it feasible that the sun may be charged? One of my critics, Laurence
Lafleur, of whom Einstein read in File II of Stargazers and Gravediggers, asserted in
Scientific Monthly in an article directed against me that if the Earth were charged, an
electroscope would show this. Surprisingly, Einstein thought, too, that an
electroscope would reveal whether the terrestrial globe were charged: since the foils
are not repelled from one other when an electroscope touches the ground, the globe
must be neutral. In the beginning of the week, actually on Tuesday, the 12th of April,
I traveled to New York and conferred with Lloyd Motz at Columbia University, on
the upper floor of the Michael Puppin Building, as I had done so many times before.
He agreed with me that an electroscope would not disclose a charge of the ground. I,
of course, counted on the probability that the charge of the Earth as a planet is
concentrated on the periphery—the charge of a conducting object is usually spread on
the surface—and that either the ionosphere is charged, or that above the ionosphere
there are layers of greater intensity of charge.
I invited Dr. Cunningham, a young physicist, then on the staff of the Forrestal Center
near Princeton, to spend an evening with me. We discussed the same question:
whether one can prove with the help of an electroscope—two golden foils at the end
of a rod, inside a jar—that the Earth is neutral. Parallel streams of particles moving
not only through the foils but also around and alongside them would keep the foils
together; thus an electroscope would not reveal whether the ground—and hence the
globe in its entirety—is neutral. Dr. Cunningham agreed with me and explained in
greater detail why this is so.
Next we discussed the charge on the sun, and Dr. Cunningham maintained that the
sun not only can be charged positively, but that it must be charged so, and this due to
the circumstance that electrons have a much greater mobility than the protons, and
thus many more electrons must have left the sun before the relatively slow-moving
protons could do the same, and the protons thus left behind would be responsible for
the positive charge of the sun. Thereafter positive and negative particles would leave
the sun in equal numbers, but the original surplus of positive particles would
permanently keep the sun positively charged. Thus in theory the sun not only can be
charged, but must be so.
I, however, considered the whole solar system as a unit and a surplus of one sign
charge on the sun would be neutralized by a surplus of the other sign charge on the
planets, especially the larger planets, primarily Jupiter.
During that week I went also a few times to New York to work with Mrs. Kathryn
Tebbel on the manuscript of Earth in Upheaval, which she was in the process of
copyediting. This absorbed the week. By Friday, April 15th, I had prepared the
necessary explanation of what should be asked from Dr. Hayes of the Metropolitan
Museum of Art, and had also put into writing my answer to the two problems
Einstein and I had discussed: the measurement of the Earth’s charge by an
electroscope, and whether the sun carries a positive charge.
In addition I answered in some detail Einstein’s question about the basis for my
prediction of the radionoises from Jupiter. Finally, I enclosed a clipping from a New
York Times article of April 12, 1955 about magnetic stars. It read as follows:
which is very little for the globe of this size. (It is calculated that the
Earth must lose its charge in 8 minutes, but some unidentified
mechanism replenishes the charge).
But is it correct that if there is an electric layer far above the ground,
the above measurement and calculation do not reveal the overall charge
of the Earth, which may be large?
A few weeks ago very violent noises were discovered coming from
Jupiter, to the general surprise of the discoverers and astronomers in
general. Now you say that I have not given an adequate substantiation
of my prediction and therefore the revealed results do not support me.
Only shortly before you said that a predicted discovery carries great
weight.
On Friday, April 15th, armed with these materials, I telephoned Einstein’s home. I
wished to see him. Miss Dukas as usual answered the telephone. “How is Professor? I
prepared . . .”
But Miss Dukas answered in a sad voice: “Oh, dear Doctor, we are awaiting the
ambulance to take Professor to the hospital. In less than an hour the ambulance must
arrive. Since Wednesday he has felt very strong pains. Dr. Dean says it is of gall
bladder that is very hot and painful.” My heart sank.
Einstein could suffer pain without complaining. He would not have agreed to go to a
hospital were there not a great need for that. Miss Dukas sounded very worried. I
asked her to call me the next day, and to tell of Einstein’s state of health. The next
day, Saturday, I had a worried call from Dukas. She was alarmed. Einstein awaited
his son from California. But the world, the town, and even close acquaintances were
kept ignorant of Einstein’s sickness and the fact that he had been hospitalized. I kept
the secret too.
The day thereafter, on Sunday, Dukas called and said: “It is better, definitely better.
His son arrived from California. He wished to have him here.” Einstein’s physician
wished to perform surgery—as I understood for gall bladder—but the Professor
refused—with humor, but firmly; he said that he did not wish to be cut. A little
reassured, but not in full measure, I spoke a sentence or two of our meeting nine days
earlier and repeated Einstein’s words about my book. It was an achievement of
eighteen months of struggle; probably I should not have at that hour thought about
my work and about what Einstein said at our last meeting. but it was as if I wished to
be near him and talk to him again; I felt gratitude to him, the great scientist who
through months of sickness occupied himself with my ideas and read my manuscripts
and books at a time when the scientific world with its press was cruel to me.
Sunday passed—I do not remember whether we had another call from Dukas or not.
It would not have been proper to call the hospital.
The following night I slept peacefully and, if I remember right, Elisheva and I both
dreamt of Einstein. At eight in the morning I went to our garden, where the forsythia
were already in bloom. I met Mrs. Baker, the neighbor, who said: “Have you heard
on the radio? Dr. Einstein died this night.”
In silence I moved away and said the Hebrew prayer for the dead that is supposed to
be said by a son after his father’s or mother’s death, in a congregation of not less than
ten men, but that after the death of my mother I would often say walking along a road
on the ridge of Mt. Carmel. The last sentence of it reads: “He who established peace
in the sky will bring peace to you and the entire Israel!” The words “peace in the sky”
or “peace on high” have a meaning in the light of events illuminated in my Worlds in
Collision, and I think the rabbis who composed the prayer in ancient times had those
events in mind. Einstein became a paternal figure to me, and though our meetings
took place only once in a while, during these eighteen months we were often in each
other’s thoughts.
The morning newspapers had no word about Einstein; his sickness, his being in the
hospital, were known only to a few people, besides the personnel of the hospital, and
did not leak to the press; therefore when he died in the night from Sunday to Monday,
the New York Times and other always well-informed papers appeared with nothing
even remotely foreboding the death of the most famous man on earth.
I went to the hospital. On the way I met Dr. Irving Levey, the Jewish chaplain of the
University, on a bicycle—already on his way back from the hospital. We hardly
exchanged a few words—there was nothing to say.
The begrudging press, which learned the sad news from the radio after an
announcement by the hospital, hurriedly sent their correspondents, who tried to pry
something out of anybody entering. Margot Einstein was sick in bed in the same
hospital and in her room the “inner circle” gathered—only five or six persons. At first
I was not admitted—to the inner circle I did not belong. Dr. V. Bargmann, physicist
and close collaborator of Einstein arrived simultaneously with me and went up.
Leaving the building I was met in the courtyard by Mrs. Ladenburg, the widow of a
physicist and a close friend of the family, and she insisted on my going with her to
Margot’s room. I was too passive to resist.
In her room I saw for the first time Hans Einstein, the son, professor of agricultural
engineering in California; he looked handsome and unexpectedly young. The few
who were in the room stood at the wall next to the window, but in shade. Margot,
always very kind to me, stretched her hands to me from her bed. I said nothing.
Dukas came close to me from the row of the standing figures with dimly lit faces
along the wall and spoke to me softly and quickly, narrating how everything
happened; I listened but do not know what I heard. I brushed a tear from my eye and
without having said a single word left the room. In the hall again a newspaperman
started to question me. I advised him to clear his story with Helen Dukas at a later
time.
At the time I was in the hospital, only a few hours after Einstein’s death, the autopsy
was being performed; it was found that Einstein had died of a bleeding aorta, a
painful process that, as I learned later, was already chronic with him. And his brain,
still warm, was being taken from the opened skull by Dr. Thomas Harvey, the
hospital’s pathologist, a pleasant and thinking man, shy too; but how could he drill
into Einstein’s head and pry open his skull? I had the feeling that all was done in a
hurry. It seemed to me almost as if the brain still had its molecules moving in a
thinking or feeling process. Dazed, I hurried from the hospital and went home.
Einstein ordered in his will that his body should be cremated, and only his brain
should be used for scientific purposes. His body was cremated not far from the city
borough that very day, so that when the next day’s papers printed their story, they had
to tell in one single issue of his disease, death, and cremation.
I did not feel like going to the library or working at my desk. I took the family (our
daughter Ruth had moved recently from California with her husband) into the car,
and drove for over an hour in a great circle on country roads around Princeton, past
blossoming orchards, with the sky wide open over the spring ground. At that very
hour Einstein’s ashes, atomized to elements, were being spread over the fields in the
afternoon spring breeze. He was consumed by fire and his physical remains returned
and mingled with the cosmos and became a part of it, inseparable and anonymous.
Nine days earlier we had brought close to conclusion a protracted debate. “I will not
let thee go unless thou bless me.” I thought of the words I once wrote to him. I
thought also of the longing look with which he followed the birds flying in formation
back from their winter quarters, before the dusk when we sat that last time in his
study, facing the window. “Do you see the birds flying?” he asked me. But now in
my memory it sounded as if he had said: “Let me go.”
Gina Plungian who arrived the same day went with Helen Dukas to the study to find
how everything had been left there the Friday before. On Einstein’s table close to the
window was Worlds in Collision in German, with many strips of paper between the
pages, and open on some page. It was the last book that he read, actually re-read for
the third time, each time differently impressed. I was also the last man with whom he
discussed a scientific subject (besides a doctor friend from Switzerland, with whom,
as I was told by Miss Dukas, about the time of my last visit he also discussed some
scientific matter).
The subject we discussed was brought to the finale. Especially grateful I was for the
two long evening sessions in March when we read line by line my short essay. Only
then did he really understand my thoughts.
I never discussed with him the Theory of Relativity. But by implication it was
involved in our debate and even very heavily.
Days passed. The town of Princeton was orphaned but went its normal way. I had the
sensation as though I had lost my father for the second time. I could not know him as
closely as some others knew him, like Miss Dukas, who was his secretary for twenty-
six years. But there was some special bond forged, a kindness and an empathy—and
now the link was torn and the town became empty for me. His associates took it
much easier, or so it appeared to me. Several days later Margot lost her pet bird
which she had taught to share with her hours of vigil and sleep and who ate from her
lips, and she was grieving over the bird. Miss Dukas was lifted by the great
responsibility that now fell on her, with the archive and manuscripts, and she was up
to this, and soon she was even more resolute than ever.
In the daily press one could read that there was already strife over who, the
Montefiore Hospital in New York, or the Princeton Hospital, should have the brain of
the deceased for study. Later there was some compromise achieved. When years
afterward I asked Dr. Harvey, who sliced the brain, whether he found any unusual
traits, he, in his shy and modest way, admitted that no unusual traits in form,
volutions, or size were observed. If anywhere or anytime there was need to show how
little we know of the human soul and its housing in matter, here was the case.
http://www.varchive.org/cor/einstein/index.htm29/04/2005 14:35:03
Letters
July 8, 1946
Ich habe dass ganze Buch betreffend den Planeten Venus durchgelesen. Es ist viel
Interessantes in dem Buch, was beweist, dass in der Tat Katastrophen stattgefunden
haben, die auf extra-terrestrale Ursachen zuruckgefuhrt werden mussen. Dagegen ist
es fuer jeden vernunftigen Physiker evident, dass diese Katastrophen nichts zu tun
haben konnen mit dem Planeten Venus, und dass auch die Rotationsrichtung der Erde
gegenuber der Ecliptic keine erhebliche Anderung hat erfahren konnen, ohne dass die
ganze Erdkruste vollig vernichtet worden ware. Ihre diesbezuglichen Argumente sind
so schwach gegenuber den mechanisch-astronomischen, dass sie von keinem
Fachmann ernstgenommen werden konnen. Das Beste ware nach meiner Meinung,
wenn Sie Ihre Bucher, die wirklich wertvolles Material bringen, in diesem Sinne
revidieren wurden. Wenn Sie sich dazu nicht entschliessen konnen, wird das
Wertvolle an Ihren Uberlegungen nur unwirksam gemacht und es durfte sich
schwerlich ein vernunftiger Verleger finden, der das Risiko einer so schweren
Blamage auf sich nehmen wurde.
Ich teile Ihnen dies schriflich mit und sende Ihnen gleichzeitig Ihre Manuscripte
zuruck, weil ich an den in Aussicht genommenen Tagen nich frei sein werde.
Ihr
Albert Einstein
Translation:
July 8, 1946
I have read the whole book about the planet Venus. There is much of interest in the
book which proves that in fact catastrophes have taken place which must be attributed
to extraterrestrial causes. However it is evident to every sensible physicist that these
catastrophes can have nothing to do with the planet Venus and that also the direction
of the inclination of the terrestrial axis towards the ecliptic could not have undergone
a considerable change without the total destruction of the entire earth’s crust. Your
arguments in this regard are so weak as opposed to the mechanical-astronomical
ones, that no expert will be able to take them seriously. It were best in my opinion if
you would in this way revise your books, which contain truly valuable material. If
you cannot decide on this, then what is valuable in your deliberations will become
ineffective, and it may be difficult finding a sensible publisher who would take the
risk of such a heavy fiasco upon himself.
I tell you this in writing and return to you your manuscript, since I will not be free on
the considered days.
Your
Albert Einstein
I thought carefully of what you wrote in your letter of July 8, for which I thank you
very much. I thank you also wholeheartedly for the time you gave me on July 5, and
for reading a part of my Ms “Worlds in Collision.”
I was perfectly aware that my historical cosmology is in conflict with the accepted
physical laws, and because of that I asked you to read it. You stress two instances.
The reversal of rotation (not revolution) is attested not only in traditions but also in
geo-physics: the magnetization of rocks “indicate that the polarity of the Earth has
been completely reversed within recent geological times.” . . .
In the last part of my cosmology I try to solve the problem of the conflicting
geological and historical data versus the accepted laws.
Best regards to Miss H. Dukas who received us with friendliness at your home.
Immanuel Velikovsky
http://www.varchive.org/cor/einstein/460716ve.htm29/04/2005 14:35:26
Letters
Ihr danke Ihnen sehr für die Zusendung Ihres Buches und auch für den alten Band
unserer damaligen Publikation. Ich glaube Sie haben das Zeug dazu, auch das kleine
Einmaleins mit historisch-philologischen Methoden grundlich zu widerlegen. Des
Beifalls der Lainen, welche einen geheimen Grimm gegen die Rechnerei haben,
können Sie sicher sein.
Ihr
Albert Einstein
http://www.varchive.org/cor/einstein/510105ev.htm29/04/2005 14:35:32
Letters
When, by chance, we met last week at the lake, I became aware that
you are angry with me personally for my “Worlds in Collision.” From
you I have not expected this reaction.
These two assertions are true only if gravitation and inertia are
responsible for planetary motions, a notion subscribed by every
“vernünftigen Physiker.” Here, though no physicist or astronomer, I am
provoked to disagree.
The sun has a general magnetic field, the solar spots are magnets, the
solar prominences return on an oblique line to the place on the solar
surface from where they erupted, the cometary tails are repelled by the
sun in a manner and with velocities which the pressure of light cannot
explain; the earth is a magnet; the ionosphere, the polar light, the
ground currents, the terrestrial magnetism react to solar disturbances;
cosmic rays are charges that travel in magnetic lines of force;
meteorites come down in a magnetic state; the position of the moon
Venus could come to a circular orbit and the Earth could be retarded in
its rotation or have its axis inclined, under the influence of
electromagnetic fields. Such fields exist; at close distances they would
act strongly. I believe, therefore, that not only the historical phenomena
that I describe in my first book could have happened, but also that
celestial mechanics that has all its motions explained without taking
into account the electromagnetic fields in the solar system, is in conflict
with facts.
I have read a book of a prominent astronomer of this city who says that
nothing could take place in the celestial sphere which conflicts with the
words of Jesus of Nazareth as preserved in the Gospels. Thus he has
two world conceptions that live side by side in his mind—one of
mathematics, the other of faith. But the rest of astronomers are like
him: they acknowledge the magnetic and electrical properties of the
sun and its spots, or of the fixed stars, of meteorites, of cosmic rays,
occasionally also of cometary tails, and they do not deny that the Earth
is a magnet, and that the sun, the moon, and the planets influence in
some way the ionosphere; but as soon as it comes to the celestial
motions, they still keep to pre-Faraday Laplace and Lagrange, and
actually postulate sterile electricity and impotent magnetism, which do
not act at distances, and which do no more than produce a Zeeman
effect.
very strong magnetic field, and that there was a difficulty of finding it
because of the angle of observation.
For over two years I have been a target of abuse and calumny. When
did it happen that a spurious book caused such a fury in the minds of
the contemporary scientists?
I have taken too much of your time. I wish you everything best.
Cordially,
Immanuel Velikovsky
A. Einstein
112 Mercer Street
Princeton
New Jersey, U.S.A
Herrn
Dr. Immanuel Velikovsky
4 Hartley Avenue
Princeton, N.J. Sehr geehrter Herr Velikowsky:
Der Grund für die energische Ablehnung der von Ihnen vertretenen Meinungen
liegt nicht in der Annahme, dass bei der Bewegung der Himmelskörper nur
Gravitation und Tragkeit massgebend seien. Der Grund für die Ablehnung liegt
vielmehr in der Tatsache, dass die zeitlichen Anderungen der Sternorter im
Planetensystem sich auf Grund dieser Annahme mit einer unvorstellbar grossen
Genauigkeit haben berechnen lassen.
Gegen solches präzises Wissen kommen Spekulationen von der Art, wie sie von
Ihnen vorgebracht worden sind, für einen Sachkundigen nicht in Betracht. Deshalb
muss Ihr Buch dem Fachmann als ein Versuch erscheinen, das Laien-Publikum irre
zu fuhren. Ich muss bekennen, dass ich selber zuerst auch diesen Eindruck hatte. Erst
nachtraglich wurde mir klar, dass absichtliche Irrefuhrung Ihnen ganz ferne lag.
Ihr
Albert Einstein
Translation:
The reason for the energetic rejection of the opinions presented by you lies not in the
assumption that in the motion of the heavenly bodies only gravitation and inertia are
the determining factors. The reason for the rejection lies rather in the fact that on the
basis of this assumption it was possible to calculate the temporal changes of star
locations in the planetary system with an unimaginably great precision.
Against such precise knowledge, speculations of the kind as were advanced by you
do not come into consideration by an expert. Therefore your book must appear to an
expert as an attempt to mislead the public. I must admit that I myself had at first this
impression, too. Only afterwards it became clear to me that intentional misleading
was entirely foreign to you.
Yours,
Albert Einstein
By your answer to my letter you have truly obliged me to think the problem all over
again. I have tarried to answer because I did not wish to appear just obstinate; but the
problem is permanently on my mind. I have to ask patience, which a “Fachman” is
generally reluctant to accord to an outsider. Without this patience we shall build
barriers between sciences, in this case—astronomy and history. I would certainly
listen carefully to what you may say on history or psycho- analysis.
You say that the fact of the exact correspondence of the planetary motions with the
theory proves this theory as correct: in the celestial motions only two agents
participate—gravitation and inertia. Let us first assume that your statement of exact
correspondence between theory and phenomena is rigidly correct. Still the mere fact
of a force acting at an inverse square rate would not exclude electricity and
magnetism, also acting at the inverse square rate, from participation in celestial
motions. But the statement is not rigidly correct, either. Let me illustrate.
Here is the year 1845. Leverrier in France and Adams in England, out of
perturbations of Uranus calculated, to the exactness of one degree of arc, the presence
of a yet unseen planet. Both of them assumed that a planet of a size not larger than
that of Uranus travels on an orbit at a distance dictated by Bode’s law. Neptune is
actually of the size of Uranus, but the mean distance between their orbits is not ca.
1,750,000,000 miles, as Bode’s law required, but only ca. 1,000,000,000 miles; thus
the error is equal to ascribing to Neptune a triple mass. The discovery of Pluto did not
solve the conflict between the theory and the fact and caused also conflicting
estimates of Pluto’s mass. Thus the finding of the planetary stations in relation to a
chart of fixed stars is not enough; if the theory is true the distances must also be
correct. And still the discovery of Neptune is regarded as the strongest proof of the
Newtonian theory of celestial motions.
Now in the same 1845, the year of this triumph, Leverrier calculated also the anomaly
of Mercury, and by this caused to think that the Newtonian law of gravitation may be
not precisely true. Leverrier first thought of some planet moving inside the Mercurial
orbit or of a possible unequal distribution of the mass in the sun. You have used the
fact of the anomaly to prove that the space is curving in the presence of a mass.
About the same time—in 1913—G. E. Hale published his paper on “The general
magnetic field of the sun” (Contr. M. Wilson Obs., #71), in which he estimated the
general magnetic field of the sun as of 50 Gauss intensity. At this intensity “under
certain conditions electromagnetic forces are much stronger than gravitation.”
(Alfven) The last named author in his “cosmical Electro-dynamics” (Oxford, 1950, p.
2) shows that a hydrogen atom at the distance of the earth from the sun and moving
with the earth’s orbital velocity, if ionized, is acted upon by the solar magnetic field
ten thousand times stronger than by the solar gravitational field.
Now the visible streamers of the sun that conveyed to Hale the idea that the sun is a
magnet reach a long way toward Mercury, almost half the way. Was the
electromagnetic state of the sun ever considered as the cause of the anomaly? The
effect of the e.-m. action must have been reckoned, and possibly excluded, but not
disregarded. . . .
The fact that the theory accurately coincided with the observed planetary positions
was the main argument for the Ptolemaic system and against the heliocentric system.
For more than two generations, until 1600, it was not the Roman Church who
opposed the Copernican theory; the scientists opposed it and used as their main
argument their ability to predict planetary positions, conjunctions and eclipses. They
have actually predicted eclipses that we still have to experience in the future. How
could they achieve this degree of accuracy with the sun revolving on one of the orbs
around the earth? By a continuous adjustment of their observations to their theories
and their theories to observations. Similarly it is today. And when the facts prove to
be different from what they were supposed to be—that the sun is charged, or that the
cometary tails are electrically glowing, or that planetary positions of Saturn or Jupiter
markedly influence our ionosphere,—then these facts are left outside of the theory
and it covers less and less of the phenomena. No wonder that it agrees with the
residual facts in such an arrangement.
When over a year ago, Professor Stewart, your neighbor, was invited together with
myself by the Presbyterian Society of this town to participate in a debate about my
book, and the time became short, I asked my opponent: “But you have excluded the
existing electromagnetic conditions in the solar system from the celestial mechanics,”
his answer was: “We do not need them: our calculations are perfect without them.”
Later, when our debate was renewed on the pages of Harper’s Magazine, I observed:
“If the balance sheet of a bank is correct to the last cent, but two large deposits
(electricity and magnetism) are omitted, the entire balance may be questioned.” . . .
January 6, 1954
I have carefully put into writing my lecture before the Forum of the Graduate
Students here (October 14, 1953). Doing so I was guided by the desire to place it
before you for reading.
In the written form I have considerably shortened the archaeological and geological
parts of my address; but I have elaborated on the astronomical part of it to a greater
length than I did orally. Before submitting this paper to you I have asked Professor
Lloyd Motz of the Astronomy Department of Columbia University to check its
factual statements.
I am aware of the great demand on your time made by various authors; therefore have
my sincerest thanks for agreeing to read this paper.
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
http://www.varchive.org/cor/einstein/540106ve.htm29/04/2005 14:40:09
Letters
It may be that I said more than I was aright to say when yesterday evening I
expressed myself that Einstein is humanly obliged not to be indifferent to the wrong
that was and is still done by an organized group of scientists. But because of your
position of a recognized leader among scientists and fighter for human rights, I feel
obligated to you not to keep you uninformed.
Immanuel Velikovsky
http://www.varchive.org/cor/einstein/540521ve.htm29/04/2005 14:40:21
Letters
22.V.54.
1
The interpretation of the vote mentioned on pp. 159-160 as an attempt
at a dogmatic fixation of the “truth” is not obvious to me. It is simply
interesting for the participants of a congress to see how opinions
concerning an interesting question are divided among those present. I
don’t think that the underlying idea was that the outcome of the voting
would somehow insure the objective correctness of the outcome of the
vote.
From p. 182 on starts a wild robbers’ story (up to p. 189) which seems
to rely more on a strong temperament than on organized considerations.
Referring to p. 191: Blacket’s idea is untenable from a theoretical point
of view. The remark about the strength of magnetization seems to be
unjustified (p. 192); it could for example depend essentially upon the
speed of cooling as well as on particle shape and size. The direction of
the magnetic field during solidification must however quite certainly
The proof of “sudden” changes (p. 223 to the end) is quite convincing
and meritorious. If you had done nothing else but to gather and present
in a clear way this mass of evidence, you would have already a
considerable merit. Unfortunately, this valuable accomplishment is
impaired by the addition of a physical-astronomical theory to which
every expert will react with a smile or with anger—according to his
temperament; he notices that you know these things only from
hearsay—and do not understand them in the real sense, also things that
are elementary to him. He can easily come to the opinion that you
yourself don’t believe it, and that you want only to mislead the public. I
myself had originally thought that it could be so. This can explain
Shapley’s behavior, but in no case excuse it. This is the intolerance and
arrogance together with brutality which one often finds in successful
people, but especially in successful Americans. The offence against
truthfulness, to which you rightly called my attention, is generally
human, and in my eyes, less important. One must however give him
credit that in the political arena he conducted himself courageously and
independently, and just about carried his hide to the marketplace.
To the point, I can say in short: catastrophes yes, Venus no. Now I ask
you: what do you mean when you request of me to do my duty in this
case? It is not clear to me. Be quite frank and open towards me, this can
only be good in every respect.
Your
A. Einstein.
References
During the three weeks since I received your kind letter, I have
composed in my mind many answers to you, and made a few drafts. I
realized soon that I would be unable to compress all the problems into
one letter and I decided to try to achieve with this writing only one step
- to bring you closer to the insight that the global catastrophes of the
past were caused not by a terrestrial but by an extra-terrestrial cause.
Before discussing this, I would like to say that I am very conscious of
the fact that you give me of the most precious in your possession - your
time; and I would not have asked to pay attention to these matters if I
did not believe that my material may, perchance, serve you too,
whatever your conclusions should be. My delay in replying you is
certainly not an act of lack of attention; just the opposite - not a quick
reply, but a well thought through is a real courtesy.
You agree that (1) there were global catastrophes, and (2) that at least
one of them occurred in the not too remote past. These conclusions will
make you, too, to a heretic in the eyes of geologists and evolutionists.
Now, without re-examining the material that made you think so, you
would like to retreat from this position. On the other hand, in 1946 you
have brought two arguments against my theory, namely:
(1) “Dass diese Katastrophen nichts zu tun haben mit dem Planeten
2
Venus.”
(2) “Dass auch die Rotationstichtung der Erde gegenüber der Ecliptic
keine erhebliche Aenderung hat erfahren können, ohne dass die ganze
3
Erdkruste völlig vernichtet worden wäre.”
The surmise that an asymmetrical growth of polar ice caused in the past
a sudden shifting of the terrestrial crust
Once more, I left for astronomers to choose: The earth was disturbed
by entering
You, too, would not have had any suspicion about my motives in my
book on folklore and ancient literature, were it not for the campaign
initiated by Shapley. The few pages on astronomy in my book were
edited by Lloyd Motz, professor of astronomy at Columbia University.
Too early you have thrown the mantle of Jewish compassion over
Shapley: you have seen only the beginning of the file of the documents
concerning the “Stargazers and Gravediggers” and their leader. His
being a liberal is not an excuse but an aggravating cirumstance. My
appeal to you to investigate this material was prompted by a new
attack, a few days before I last saw you. Then I immersed myself in my
work and calmed down.
Cordially,
Immanuel Velikovsky
References
May I renew our discussion? At our last long conversation on July 21, you have
acceded that the cause of the global catastrophes of the past could have been extra-
terrestrial.
The next step in my strategy is to show that the comets do not revolve as neutral
bodies around a neutral sun. I quote from H. Spencer Jones:
“The presence of bright lines in the spectra [of comets] can only be due to a self-
luminous body. . . . the electrical phenomena obtained by discharge through a
Gessler’s vacuum tube enable the assertion to be made with a high degree of
probability that the comet’s self-luminosity is due not to an actual combustion, but to
an electrical phenomenon.”
More facts point to a charged state of the comets. The envelope (coma) of a comet
contracts with the approach to the sun and expands with recession, though in the heat
of the sun the reverse could be expected.
“There is good evidence that all particles in the comet influence the motion of each
other. The configuration of the streamers in the tails . . . strongly indicates a mutual
repulsion.” (N. Bobrovnikoff, “Comets” in Astrophysics, ed. Hynek, 1951, p. 328).
As to the sun: “Certainly the formation of coronals over centers of attraction and
sunspots can be caused by the extended electrical fields of these areas of the sun; just
so, coronals can be formed by the electrical fields about the end of a moving
prominence.” (E. Pettit, “The Sun and Solar Radiation,” ibid., p. 296).
When prominences on the sun were observed to run one into another, “both
prominences participating in the action recoiled violently . . . Strong electrical fields
of the same sign might explain the phenomenon.” (Ibid., p. 297).
As to the spherical shape of the sun, the measurements were carried to one hundredth
part of a second of an arc, and no departure from spherical shape was observed ibid.,
p. 260); the admitted error of observation could not exceed a tenth of a second.
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
Am I right or wrong in the following: A comet grazing the sun can experience an el.-
magn. effect without violating Kepler’s 3rd law, because:
1. A static potential difference between the sun and a body on an orbit would also
produce an inverse square relation which can be hidden in the gravitational effect.
2. The magnetic component of the effect would produce acceleration. And actually an
unaccounted for acceleration is observed in comets passing close to the sun; this
effect was studied on Comet Encke. (J. Zenneck, ‘Gravitation’s in Encyclop. d.
Mathem. Wiss. vol. V, part I, p. 44).
3. Even assuming a comet as a neutral body partly consisting of ionized gases, and a
solar protuberance as a collection of ions of one sign on a neutral sun, we would have
in a grazing comet a conductor passing through an electrical field.
By the way, Kepler himself regarded the motion of the planets and comets on ellipses
as originating wholly in the sun, and for a time thought of magnetic action (electricity
was not yet known; but Gilbert’s book on magnetism already appeared in 1600).
Kepler wrote:
Actually Kepler’s idea of a magnetic field reaching from a primary to a satellite can
be checked as follows:
If the lunar daily librations in latitude follow the rotation of the polar magnetic field
of the earth around the geographical pole, then the magnetic field of the earth reaches
sensitively to the moon. Among lunar daily librations are some unaccounted for.
According to H.T. Stetson of M.I.T., a magnetic needle slightly follows the sun.
5½ (five and a half) year period, and at the next passage it was sent away on a
hyperbolic orbit. This I mentioned; you have thought it impossible, even after reading
this in Newcomb’s astronomy.
You have asked me: what do the specialists say about the shape of the sun. I quote
Donald Menzel of Harvard Solar Observatory (Our Sun, 1950, p. 39): “but the
measures are as likely as not to indicate a polar diameter greater than the equatorial,
which we are indeed loath to believe.”
cordially,
Im. Velikovsky
February 2, 1955
All I wanted in my last letter to you was to gain the concession that a comet, going
through the corona of the sun or through an outburst of ionized gases, sustains an
electromagnetic effect. The consequences of opening the gate to such an effect into
the heavenly mechanics force the astronomer to disregard physical experiences, in
order not to violate in the least the system of 1666. But in fact the comets do not
follow precisely Kepler’s third law: those that pass near the sun (like Encke’s comet)
show acceleration unexplained by gravitational mechanics.
My knowledge is not great, yet gravitation with static electricity I do not identify, as
you understood me and then refuted me with the fall of a body which must discharge
itself upon touching the ground. In the following I present my thoughts about the
nature of gravitation and discuss also in short—more in the form of questions—the
four systems of the world, of which the first is the Newtonian, and the second
actually does not violate the Newtonian.
Do you remember how I asked you: If the good Lord would give you the task to
conceive a plan for a new universe, where gravitation of the inverse-square variety
takes no part, would you be able to comply? To Newton He could not have made
such a proposition, since Newton had only a very vague idea of electricity. However,
the sentence with which he concludes the “Principia” is very interesting. I let this
sentence follow as a supplement.
Enclosure 1
But hitherto I have not been able to discover the cause of those properties of gravity
from phenomena, and I frame no hypotheses . . .
And now we might add something concerning a certain subtle spirit which pervades
and lies hid in all gross bodies; by the force and action of which spirit the particles of
bodies attract one another at near distances, and cohere, if contiguous; and electric
bodies operate to greater distances, as well repelling as attracting the neighboring
corpuscles; and light is emitted, reflected, refracted, inflected, and heats bodies; and
all sensation is excited, and the members of animal bodies move at the command of
the will, namely, by the vibrations of this spirit, mutually propagated along the solid
filaments of the nerves, from the outward organs of sense to the brain, and from the
brain into the muscles. But these are things that cannot be explained in few words,
nor are we furnished with that sufficiency of experiments which is required to an
accurate determination and demonstration of the laws by which this electric and
elastic spirit operates.
Plan 1
Newton’s plan in which the heavenly bodies in their movements are influenced only
by gravitation (and in a very small measure by light pressure). For this plan speak:
a) The simplicity of the law of gravitation. (The simplicity would be more complete if
the same system would also be in action as the dominating force in the atom, and if
gravitation, like all other energies in nature, were given to transformations).
b) The exactness with which the positions of the planets are predicted. (The exactness
of Ptolemaic astronomy in predicting eclipses and conjunctions was superior to that
of Copernicus; and still the geocentric system is false).
c) The discovery of Neptune and Pluto (Neptune’s position, but not its distance from
the Sun was calculated in advance; Pluto’s mass is by far not sufficient to explain the
disturbances it causes).
Some of the circumstances which cannot be explained, or only with great effort, are:
1. The Sun, Jupiter and Saturn rotate quicker on their equators; the rings of Saturn
rotate quicker than the planet. The inner satellite of Mars revolves quicker than Mars
rotates; the sun possesses only 2% of the “angular momentum” of the solar system.
2. The Sun’s protuberances gain in speed with the distance from the Sun. They fall
back as if attracted to the place from which they erupted, falling back (as if on a
rubber band) to the sun without acceleration.
3. The Sun’s equatorial diameter is equal to, and in the consensus of other observers
is 0.038 seconds of the arc smaller than the polar diameter (and to this says Menzel:
“We are loathe . . .” ).
4. The tides caused by the Sun in the Earth’s atmosphere are 16 to 20 times greater
5. The Moon and [some] other satellites always show their planets the same face.
6. The comets’ tails are turned away from the sun and move in perihelion with a
speed approaching the speed of light; no attempt at quantitative calculation has been
made in this direction.
Plan 2
The heavenly bodies are held in their orbits mainly by gravitation; however they are
not neutral.
Since static electricity also acts according to the inverse square law, its presence is
masked by gravitation. From this follows: The masses of the heavenly bodies are not
exactly calculated.
This plan can explain satisfactorily most of the difficulties of Plan 1. For this Plan 2
speak also, among others, the following facts:
1. The Sun too has a general magnetic field the strength of which is estimated very
differently—the difficulty lies in the angle of observation. The corona has a form
which resembles the lines of force of a magnetic field and extends far out.
2. In several stars a strong magnetic field (7000 gauss) has been detected. These stars
must also be electrically charged because electrical currents would hardly occur on
hot stars. The movement of two members of a double star system which rotate around
each other in a few hours must probably be affected by more than just gravitation
alone.
3. The earth is a magnet. The earth is enveloped in electrical layers of the ionosphere.
Chapman postulates a strong electrical layer high (12,000 to 16,000 miles) over and
around the earth.
4. The planets Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, clearly influence our
ionosphere and radio-reception; Jupiter and Saturn also have a connection to the
origin of the sunspots.
5. The polar lights consist of electrical charges which come from the sun and which,
after eruptions on the sun, or after the passage of a big sunspot, influence radio
transmission and ground currents, and cause magnetic storms.
6. Meteorites are magnetized without exception. Also, upon entering the atmosphere
they are regularly diverted toward the east and sometimes even seem to be hurled out
after they have already penetrated into the atmosphere.
7. The fact that comets glow in cold space (lines of emission), and also the
contraction of their heads when closer to the sun, speaks for an electrical effect.
8. A rise and fall in the strength of mutual disturbances between Jupiter and Saturn in
the years 1898-99 as opposed to that of the years 1916-17 (18 % difference: J.
Zenneck, “Gravitation” in Encycl. der Math. Wiss., vol. V, first part, p. 44), speaks
also for this and the following plans.
As to the argument that the photoelectric effect of the sun would neutralize the
charges on the planets, I would like to ask: Would not the photoelectric effect cause
charges on neutral planets? And why is not our ionosphere neutralized by the
photoelectric effect?
The other argument against this plan is in the assumption that the sun cannot be
charged because it would repel the surplus ions. I would answer: According to
spectral analysis, the atoms on the sun have been left without many, often without
any orbiting electrons. Could not the electrons which have left the protons in their
closest proximity where the attraction is tremendous, also have left the sun entirely?
Actually the sun hurls out charged particles (polar lights, also cosmic rays) as if it
were charged and would like to reach a neutral state. (However the sun, charged as it
is, changes its charge imperceptibly: were it not so, then the system would constantly
change its paths.)
Another reply: In the atom the same problem exists: how can charges of the same
sign hold together in the nucleus?
Now a third reply: The stars, which are strong magnets, must also be electrically
charged, because no electrical currents can exist at such temperatures. Why do the
surplus protons or electrons stay there? And if there, then probably also on the sun.
And finally: Should we not, instead of considering the sun as neutral, rather consider
the whole solar system neutral, with a surplus of charge of one sign on the sun and of
another sign on the planets?
Plan 3
This would mean that the force which we know from our experience on earth as
gravitation does not effectively reach the moon.
Against such an explanation speaks the fact that the Cavendish experiment under
different conditions and distances between mutually attracting masses always showed
the same results. However, as far as I can judge, this experiment was not performed
in a Faraday cage; at the same time we know that the atmosphere has an electric
potential and that the potential difference strongly increases with distance from the
ground, but probably could be almost identical in different laboratories.
This plan of static electricity as the dominating force between the heavenly bodies
would explain most of the phenomena which are unexplainable in plans 1 and2, but
against it speak the following facts:
1. In the case the planets are all of the same charge (positive or negative), they would
repel each other. But would they not behave like two parallel conductors which
attract each other when their currents flow in the same direction?
2. If, for instance, the sun is positive and the earth negative, then the moon would
again be positive, and the sun would repel the moon.
Plan 4
In this plan, too, gravitation would be a force which diminishes rapidly with distance.
Planets, satellites, and comets are charged bodies which move in the magnetic field of
the sun, and which themselves create magnetic fields.
c. the behavior of cometary tails; also the fact that comets are attracted to the sun
from great distances, but were never seen falling into the sun, even though they are
unstable in their orbits;
d. the position of the moon and other satellites which continuously turn the same face
to their planets;
also the fact that the sun is hotter in the corona than in the photosphere; and several
other facts.
Since magnetic force decreases quickly with distance, the heavenly bodies must be
differently charged in order to obey Kepler’s laws. The planets which are further
away from the sun must have a correspondingly stronger charge. This would be
analogous to the arrangement of electrons in the atom. It would also explain the
disturbances caused by Pluto, the mass of which is by far not sufficient to explain
such perturbations.
Against this (4) plan speak the enormity of electric and magnetic forces necessary to
make this plan effective.
The sun moves in relation to the stars; it rotates; the charged planets revolve around
the sun, and create a Rowland magnetic field. How does the magnetic field between
the sun and the planets behave, and how quickly does it decrease? (The calculations
which I received from several young physicists differ greatly and go all the way from
1/r to 1/r4).
But above all, are the physical experiences of laboratories always applicable to the
sky? There, a very great and hot mass of gases moves in the coldness of space; how
would the magnetic field behave under such conditions?
It is apparent that plans 2 and 4 sin less against facts and observations than do plans 1
and 3. In order to decide between plan 2 and 4 the Cavendish measurements between
impeccably neutral bodies must be repeated. But how impeccably? The electrical
repulsion between two protons is 1040 times stronger than their gravitational
attraction.
Yours
Immanuel Velikovsky
March 7, 1955
I thank you again for the discussion of the first 8 pages of my letter. Here are the
quotations from John Herschel and W. Pickering I have mentioned in our last
conversation:
“There is beyond any question some profound secret and mystery of nature concerned
in the phenomenon of their tails”; “enormous sweep which it [the tail] makes round
the sun in perihelion, in the manner of a straight and rigid rod, is in defiance of the
law of gravitation, nay, even of the recorded laws of motion.”
“What has puzzled astronomers since the time of Newton, is the fact that while all
other bodies in the sidereal universe, as far as we are aware, obey the law of
gravitation, comets’ tails are clearly subject to some strong repulsive force, which
drives the matter composing them away from the sun with enormously high
velocities.”
Cordially yours,
Immanuel Velikovsky
http://www.varchive.org/cor/einstein/550307ve.htm01/05/2005 00:25:34
Letters
17.III.55
Sie haben mich bei Gelegenheit dieses unseligen Geburtstags aufs neue beschenkt
mit Fruchten einer geradezu eruptiven Produktivitat. Ich freue mich auf die Lekture
des historischen Werkes, das ja die Hühneraugen meiner Gilde nicht in Gefahr bringt.
Wie es mit den Hühneraugen der andern Fakultät steht, weiss ich noch nicht. Ich
denke an das rührende Gebet: Heiliger St. Florian, verschon’s mein Haus,
zünd’ändere an!
Den ersten Band der Memoiren zu “Worlds in Collision” habe ich bereits
aufmerksam gelesen und mit einigen leicht zu radeirenden Randbemerkungen
versehen. Ich bewundere Ihr dramatisches Talent und auch die Kunst und Geradheit
von Thakeray, der brüllenden astronomischen Löwen dazu gebracht hat,
eingermassen den königlichen Schwanz einzuziehen unter nicht völliger
Respektierung der Wahrheit. Ich würde glücklich sein, wenn auch Sie die ganze
Episode von der drolligen Seite geniessen konnten.
Ihr
A. Einstein
Translation:
17.III.55
At the occasion of this unpropitious birthday you have presented me once more with
the fruits of an almost eruptive productivity. I look forward with pleasure to reading
the historical book that does not bring into danger the toes of my guild. How it stands
with the toes of the other faculty, I do not know as yet. I think of the touching prayer:
“Holy St. Florian, spare my house, put fire to others!”
I have already carefully read the first volume of the memoirs to “Worlds in
Collision,” and have supplied it with a few marginal notes in pencil that can be easily
erased. I admire your dramatic talent and also the art and strightforwardness of
Thackrey who has compelled the roaring astronomical lion to pull in a little his royal
tail without showing enough respect for the truth. I would be happy if you, too, could
enjoy the whole episode from its funny side.
Unimaginable letter debts and unread manuscripts that were sent in force me to be
brief. Thanks to both of you and friendly wishes,
Your,
A. Einstein