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The Measure of All Things
This volume tells the story of how science, revolutionary politics, and the dream of a new economy converged to produce both the metric system and the first struggle over globalization. Amidst the scientific fervour of the Revolution, two French scientists, Delambre and Mechain, were sent out on an expedition to measure the shape of the world and thereby establish the metre (which was to be one ten-millionth the distance from pole to equator). Their hope was that people would use the globe as the basis of measure rather than an arbitrary system meted out by the monarchs. As one scientist went north along the French meridian and the other south, their experiences diverged just as radically. After seven years, they received a hero's welcome upon their return to Paris. Mechain, however, was obsessed over a minute error in his calculations that he'd discovered and concealed, and which eventually drove him to his grave. His death forced his colleague Delambre to choose between loyalty to his friend and his science.
480 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2002
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 96 reviews
February 23, 2016
After a long spate of young adult novels, and in particular the very harrowing Asking for It, I needed a palate-cleanser. How much further can we get than a book about the expedition to define the metre?
I take the metre for granted. It’s just there. I was aware, vaguely, of the various ways in which it has been defined, and I knew that the metric system came out of the French Revolution. What I didn’t realize, however, is how close we came to having a different metre—or to not having a metre at all. If any number of events did not happen precisely as they did, we might still have unit chaos, or we might be using a metre that looks much different from the one we have today.
It’s this exploration of the politics around the definition of the metre that makes The Measure of All Things so fascinating. Although Ken Alder takes the time to explain some of the science and engineering that went into this expedition and its efforts, this story is ultimately about people, and how their egos and follies can shape entire generations of scientific thought.
It’s attractive to think of science as neutral or objective. Indeed, when I was younger that is often how I thought of it. While this might be a goal towards which science strives, it is naive to believe we can achieve such neutrality. Science is a process of human endeavour, and so ultimately it is vulnerable to social biases. We must acknowledge these biases and remain watchful for when they show up in our efforts. Similarly, we can’t just pretend that science is free of the influence of politics. It’s tempting to assume that science transcends national and corporate loyalties, but that is a dangerous fiction to maintain.
Probably few have been as aware of this as the scientists—or savants as Alder calls them—labouring during the French Revolution. With the political winds shifting every year, it was all too easy to find yourself out of favour—which, in this climate, typically meant losing your head. It’s also important to recognize that many of the innovations introduced at this time, including the metric system, were spurred on by revolutionary motives. Hence, politics drives and influences science far more than we might want to admit. The metric system was supposed to standardize weights and measures across France, giving the nation a renewed unity that would help solve some of the problems with taxation and commerce that had plagued the country under monarchy. Moreover, in the form of the meridian expedition, it would be a work of national pride: French savants on French soil would measure the Earth and use its glorious natural proportions to define a new unit of measurement!
And then they screwed it up.
Alder knows how to tell a tale: The Measure of All Things is a mixture of a couple of biographies and some intrigue set against the backdrop of Revolutionary France. I was fairly interested in a story of the development of the metre, but I absolutely cannot resist non-fiction that promises me scandal! intrigue! cover-ups! And this book has all of those things in spades. As Delambre makes his way through the rural villages of northern France, you hold your breath with each delay and detainment by the suspicious villagers. (The Enlightenment, of course, was a phenomenon exclusive more to the privileged and urban inhabitants of Europe. Superstition and mistrust of savants was still the order of the day, and given this context, it’s easier to understand why that still seems to be the case in parts of North America.) Likewise, the tension on the southern leg of the expedition as Méchain agonizes over his discrepancies and delays departures keeps you constantly guessing as to how everything will shake out. I mean, we know the broad strokes of how the expedition ends, but there was plenty I didn’t know.
Alder excels at providing the historical context for the astronomers’ discoveries, as well as explaining how astronomers went about actually measuring the Earth. Geodesy is cool, and if you haven’t spent much time thinking about the shape of the Earth, this book will give you a crash course in some of the innovative methods people have created over the centuries. We in the era of GPS devices are so divorced from this type of technology that it’s easy to forget that the actual methods are very basic. Delambre and Méchain were using techniques similar to what geodesers use today—we just have more precise and accurate tools.
Speaking of which, I loved Alder’s digression into the difference between precision and accuracy, and his description of Laplace’s development of error theory. Going to be honest: even as a mathematician, I don’t like statistics. But I always find it interesting how certain aspects of mathematics and science emerged (in their rigorous form at least) relatively late—Delambre and Méchain had access to a lot of good mathematical tools, but error analysis wasn’t one of them.
I also appreciate how The Measure of All Things does not succumb to the Great Man Theory of history. Yes, it foregrounds the two leaders of the meridian expedition, and Alder ascribes much of what transpires to those leaders’ particular personalities—Delambre striving for integrity and transparency, Méchain obsessed with precision and completeness. I can definitely see how the expedition might have turned out differently if, say, Cassini IV had ended up leading it. Nevertheless, Alder never supposes that these two great men were Great Men who dual-handedly put France, and the world, on the path to metric. He points to the confluence of other factors that made this the right time, right place. He highlights the work of other savants, such as Borda, Lalande, Laplace, Legendre, et al, who developed theories or devices that made the expedition possible. He also points out the diplomats and public servants who at various times helped or hindered the expedition. Finally, Alder mentions the people who supported the expedition leaders: their assistants (often very capable savants or surveyors in their own right) and family (Thèrese Méchain was a pretty cool lady, given her ability to manage the Observatory on her own and the way she just up-and-joined her husband to try to talk him away from the abyss).
At times Alder likes his digressions a little too much. Did I really need the entire backstory on Lalande? No, although I admit it was interesting. Did I really want those last couple of chapters on the metric system post-Revolution, including most of a chapter devoted to the United States? Not really. The Measure of Things is detailed and comprehensive in pursuing its topic, and as such it’s also overly long and occasionally to detailed for its own good.
I would definitely recommend this book to anyone interested in history or the scientific method. Even if you’re not that interested in learning about the inception of the metric system, this is a different approach to looking at the French Revolution that you might appreciate. Other than my criticisms about the length and digressions, Alder’s writing is remarkably clear and unassuming; he is always honest about what we know or don’t know from the evidence and correspondence he could find. Too many popular history books inject the author’s view into the conversation—sometimes that is useful or necessary, depending on the topic, but it’s a welcome absence here.
Regardless of your opinions of the metric system, it has shaped the modern world. That all started in the 1790s in France, ended in the early 1800s, and gradually came back into vogue over the next two centuries. The Measure All Things promises to trace the development of the metre as an aspirational unit based on the size of the Earth; it also promises to unmask and clarify the ways in which this aspiration went awry through human error and political machination. It delivers on both of these promises, and the result is a fascinating and enjoyable non-fiction book, the perfect palate-cleanser before I dive back into some hard-hitting YA.
I take the metre for granted. It’s just there. I was aware, vaguely, of the various ways in which it has been defined, and I knew that the metric system came out of the French Revolution. What I didn’t realize, however, is how close we came to having a different metre—or to not having a metre at all. If any number of events did not happen precisely as they did, we might still have unit chaos, or we might be using a metre that looks much different from the one we have today.
It’s this exploration of the politics around the definition of the metre that makes The Measure of All Things so fascinating. Although Ken Alder takes the time to explain some of the science and engineering that went into this expedition and its efforts, this story is ultimately about people, and how their egos and follies can shape entire generations of scientific thought.
It’s attractive to think of science as neutral or objective. Indeed, when I was younger that is often how I thought of it. While this might be a goal towards which science strives, it is naive to believe we can achieve such neutrality. Science is a process of human endeavour, and so ultimately it is vulnerable to social biases. We must acknowledge these biases and remain watchful for when they show up in our efforts. Similarly, we can’t just pretend that science is free of the influence of politics. It’s tempting to assume that science transcends national and corporate loyalties, but that is a dangerous fiction to maintain.
Probably few have been as aware of this as the scientists—or savants as Alder calls them—labouring during the French Revolution. With the political winds shifting every year, it was all too easy to find yourself out of favour—which, in this climate, typically meant losing your head. It’s also important to recognize that many of the innovations introduced at this time, including the metric system, were spurred on by revolutionary motives. Hence, politics drives and influences science far more than we might want to admit. The metric system was supposed to standardize weights and measures across France, giving the nation a renewed unity that would help solve some of the problems with taxation and commerce that had plagued the country under monarchy. Moreover, in the form of the meridian expedition, it would be a work of national pride: French savants on French soil would measure the Earth and use its glorious natural proportions to define a new unit of measurement!
And then they screwed it up.
Alder knows how to tell a tale: The Measure of All Things is a mixture of a couple of biographies and some intrigue set against the backdrop of Revolutionary France. I was fairly interested in a story of the development of the metre, but I absolutely cannot resist non-fiction that promises me scandal! intrigue! cover-ups! And this book has all of those things in spades. As Delambre makes his way through the rural villages of northern France, you hold your breath with each delay and detainment by the suspicious villagers. (The Enlightenment, of course, was a phenomenon exclusive more to the privileged and urban inhabitants of Europe. Superstition and mistrust of savants was still the order of the day, and given this context, it’s easier to understand why that still seems to be the case in parts of North America.) Likewise, the tension on the southern leg of the expedition as Méchain agonizes over his discrepancies and delays departures keeps you constantly guessing as to how everything will shake out. I mean, we know the broad strokes of how the expedition ends, but there was plenty I didn’t know.
Alder excels at providing the historical context for the astronomers’ discoveries, as well as explaining how astronomers went about actually measuring the Earth. Geodesy is cool, and if you haven’t spent much time thinking about the shape of the Earth, this book will give you a crash course in some of the innovative methods people have created over the centuries. We in the era of GPS devices are so divorced from this type of technology that it’s easy to forget that the actual methods are very basic. Delambre and Méchain were using techniques similar to what geodesers use today—we just have more precise and accurate tools.
Speaking of which, I loved Alder’s digression into the difference between precision and accuracy, and his description of Laplace’s development of error theory. Going to be honest: even as a mathematician, I don’t like statistics. But I always find it interesting how certain aspects of mathematics and science emerged (in their rigorous form at least) relatively late—Delambre and Méchain had access to a lot of good mathematical tools, but error analysis wasn’t one of them.
I also appreciate how The Measure of All Things does not succumb to the Great Man Theory of history. Yes, it foregrounds the two leaders of the meridian expedition, and Alder ascribes much of what transpires to those leaders’ particular personalities—Delambre striving for integrity and transparency, Méchain obsessed with precision and completeness. I can definitely see how the expedition might have turned out differently if, say, Cassini IV had ended up leading it. Nevertheless, Alder never supposes that these two great men were Great Men who dual-handedly put France, and the world, on the path to metric. He points to the confluence of other factors that made this the right time, right place. He highlights the work of other savants, such as Borda, Lalande, Laplace, Legendre, et al, who developed theories or devices that made the expedition possible. He also points out the diplomats and public servants who at various times helped or hindered the expedition. Finally, Alder mentions the people who supported the expedition leaders: their assistants (often very capable savants or surveyors in their own right) and family (Thèrese Méchain was a pretty cool lady, given her ability to manage the Observatory on her own and the way she just up-and-joined her husband to try to talk him away from the abyss).
At times Alder likes his digressions a little too much. Did I really need the entire backstory on Lalande? No, although I admit it was interesting. Did I really want those last couple of chapters on the metric system post-Revolution, including most of a chapter devoted to the United States? Not really. The Measure of Things is detailed and comprehensive in pursuing its topic, and as such it’s also overly long and occasionally to detailed for its own good.
I would definitely recommend this book to anyone interested in history or the scientific method. Even if you’re not that interested in learning about the inception of the metric system, this is a different approach to looking at the French Revolution that you might appreciate. Other than my criticisms about the length and digressions, Alder’s writing is remarkably clear and unassuming; he is always honest about what we know or don’t know from the evidence and correspondence he could find. Too many popular history books inject the author’s view into the conversation—sometimes that is useful or necessary, depending on the topic, but it’s a welcome absence here.
Regardless of your opinions of the metric system, it has shaped the modern world. That all started in the 1790s in France, ended in the early 1800s, and gradually came back into vogue over the next two centuries. The Measure All Things promises to trace the development of the metre as an aspirational unit based on the size of the Earth; it also promises to unmask and clarify the ways in which this aspiration went awry through human error and political machination. It delivers on both of these promises, and the result is a fascinating and enjoyable non-fiction book, the perfect palate-cleanser before I dive back into some hard-hitting YA.
September 1, 2025
3.5 Stars for The Measure of All Things (audiobook) by Ken Alder read by Brian Jennings.
This is kind of the biography of a measuring system. It was borne out of the French Revolution to help the world to have a common way to measure. Unfortunately a life was lost in the attempt to measure from the pole to the equator. And ultimately this scientific expedition learned more about the earth and how irregular it is. And how difficult it would be to use it as a standard for measuring. The expedition ended shortly after the standard was established and that began the tradition of the meter always being a little off from the standard.
This is kind of the biography of a measuring system. It was borne out of the French Revolution to help the world to have a common way to measure. Unfortunately a life was lost in the attempt to measure from the pole to the equator. And ultimately this scientific expedition learned more about the earth and how irregular it is. And how difficult it would be to use it as a standard for measuring. The expedition ended shortly after the standard was established and that began the tradition of the meter always being a little off from the standard.
June 20, 2008
When my husband bought this book I was like "400 pages about the meter?? You have got to be kidding me" but then I picked it up and couldn't put it down. A great story of not only the origins of the metric system but also about revolutionary France and the evolution of science.
May 6, 2019
The Measure of All Things is an excellent book. Ken Alder presents a superb narrative of the epic geodetic expedition that resulted in the definition of the metric system, with a close focus on the French astronomers Mechain and Delambre, who undertook the measurement of the global meridian through Paris. The activities of these two remarkable men are described in detail, with their interwoven accounts developing into stories that are ultimately tragic and heroic.
The author’s insightful commentary and analysis provide historical context which allows the reader a greater appreciation of the nuances of the subject, yet the text remains engaging and entertaining throughout the book. An exceptional amount of background research is evident from the quality of the discussion, which ranges from the broad historical themes of the French Revolution to fascinating technical minutiae related to the eighteenth-century surveying instrumentation used by the astronomers.
The Measure of All Things will appeal to those readers whose interests may include geography, general history, the history of science, the French Revolution, theories of measurement and error, epic adventure, and triumphs of human intellect.
The author’s insightful commentary and analysis provide historical context which allows the reader a greater appreciation of the nuances of the subject, yet the text remains engaging and entertaining throughout the book. An exceptional amount of background research is evident from the quality of the discussion, which ranges from the broad historical themes of the French Revolution to fascinating technical minutiae related to the eighteenth-century surveying instrumentation used by the astronomers.
The Measure of All Things will appeal to those readers whose interests may include geography, general history, the history of science, the French Revolution, theories of measurement and error, epic adventure, and triumphs of human intellect.
March 30, 2016
I found this to be a pretty fascinating account of Delambre and Merchain's rather epic journey to make the measurements that are the basis of the modern metric system. Alder finds a pretty good balance between narrative recount and obligatory historical facts and figures.
An entertaining and interesting read.
An entertaining and interesting read.
January 4, 2020
An astonishing story of science and diplomacy, told with great pace that doesn't leave out the important details. Until reading this book (this was my 2nd reading), I was unaware of the story of the creation of the meter, and I assumed it was basically a legalistic confirmation of the yard and similar measures that had been in use for centuries. And I knew that the decimal-based metric system went back to Enlightenment thought and vaguely had something to do with Napoleon's interest in standardization, but I didn't understand that the meter was based on a real measurement, nor did I have a clue about its link to the French Revolution. This is a story that's worth telling.
The effort put in by the scientists of the day (known as "savants") is mind-blowing. To measure stars night after night, or to climb peaks and towers and turrets in order to set up sensitive equipment, feels like religious fervor. These truly are men (all men on the key expeditions, though several major astronomers had wives and daughters who were hugely valuable assistants in other tasks) obsessed with getting it right.
The author does a great job of explaining how to use the angle-measuring devices developed in the 18th century for tens of thousands of tedious measurements and re-measurements -- and you get a sense of the amazing levels of stamina and patience of the practitioners. To then calculate what those figures mean takes another level of skill and care. And to measure 5 miles of a roadway as straight as humanly possible, with a foot-long ruler, well, that's unimaginable. The only thing I can compare it with in today's world is the effort that filmmakers sometimes incur for realism or some type of extraordinary effect on screen.
When you then throw in that these savants were measuring and triangulating from high point to high point during, quite literally the French Revolution, it's a case of truth being stranger than fiction. The stories are funny but also chilling of the leading savant-measurers trying to convince local townspeople that they're: a) not a sorcerer whose equipment will ruin crops, or b) not a spy for the Prussian Army (north) or Spanish army (south). I would have packed up and quit after the first arrest and near-guillotining that these guys faced literally on their first days on the job.
The book also is about how science was done in the 18th century, and it's actually quite remarkable. I'm especially impressed that the French revolutionary government voted not only to undertake the meridian measurement in order to create the metric system, but that it thought about it for weights and time as well, and that it even named the units that we still have today. And yet, when the system was rolled out to the public and the public said it hated it, the politicians of the day also were savvy enough to let deadlines slip over and over again, accommodating to a much slower schedule of implementation (by decades), despite knowing that the standardization would have overall good effects. The author does a great job, too, of explaining the obvious benefits of standardization, but also the less-obvious downsides related to the loss of local control, the divorce from human-scale and nature-based measures that focused on things like the amount of seed that could be distributed in a day as a measure of land, but with adjustments for what was known locally about the quality of a particular plot of land. It's true that with everything we gain, we also lose something.
I'll never look casually at a meter again.
The effort put in by the scientists of the day (known as "savants") is mind-blowing. To measure stars night after night, or to climb peaks and towers and turrets in order to set up sensitive equipment, feels like religious fervor. These truly are men (all men on the key expeditions, though several major astronomers had wives and daughters who were hugely valuable assistants in other tasks) obsessed with getting it right.
The author does a great job of explaining how to use the angle-measuring devices developed in the 18th century for tens of thousands of tedious measurements and re-measurements -- and you get a sense of the amazing levels of stamina and patience of the practitioners. To then calculate what those figures mean takes another level of skill and care. And to measure 5 miles of a roadway as straight as humanly possible, with a foot-long ruler, well, that's unimaginable. The only thing I can compare it with in today's world is the effort that filmmakers sometimes incur for realism or some type of extraordinary effect on screen.
When you then throw in that these savants were measuring and triangulating from high point to high point during, quite literally the French Revolution, it's a case of truth being stranger than fiction. The stories are funny but also chilling of the leading savant-measurers trying to convince local townspeople that they're: a) not a sorcerer whose equipment will ruin crops, or b) not a spy for the Prussian Army (north) or Spanish army (south). I would have packed up and quit after the first arrest and near-guillotining that these guys faced literally on their first days on the job.
The book also is about how science was done in the 18th century, and it's actually quite remarkable. I'm especially impressed that the French revolutionary government voted not only to undertake the meridian measurement in order to create the metric system, but that it thought about it for weights and time as well, and that it even named the units that we still have today. And yet, when the system was rolled out to the public and the public said it hated it, the politicians of the day also were savvy enough to let deadlines slip over and over again, accommodating to a much slower schedule of implementation (by decades), despite knowing that the standardization would have overall good effects. The author does a great job, too, of explaining the obvious benefits of standardization, but also the less-obvious downsides related to the loss of local control, the divorce from human-scale and nature-based measures that focused on things like the amount of seed that could be distributed in a day as a measure of land, but with adjustments for what was known locally about the quality of a particular plot of land. It's true that with everything we gain, we also lose something.
I'll never look casually at a meter again.
March 12, 2011
What a fascinating story! Science, economics, cartography, superstition, government, patronage, humility, wracking emotion, and the cradle of transformation from the enlightenment era to the modern world: these themes are present, and woven into an historical narrative that, for me, really brought home the old saw, "truth is stranger [and more interesting] than fiction."
The book is filled with characters whose names should be recognizable to anyone with a science/history background. Around them, the author applies the historical record in a way which makes their lives pop right off the page. You'll identify with their humanity, and come to care about their struggles.
Such a simple idea, the execution of which became an epic, life transforming odyssey.
The book is filled with characters whose names should be recognizable to anyone with a science/history background. Around them, the author applies the historical record in a way which makes their lives pop right off the page. You'll identify with their humanity, and come to care about their struggles.
Such a simple idea, the execution of which became an epic, life transforming odyssey.
June 1, 2022
Parts of this book such as the use of triangulation and scientists trying to work around the French Revolution were fascinating, but much of it was dry and too detailed. To the lady that reviewed this and said she couldn’t put it down, “I salute you.” Personally, I would have edited down to less than 300 pages. But I did learn quite a bit about the metric system.
October 24, 2019
This book would get five stars if it were not so long.
October 29, 2021
I liked the first 150 pages of the book then skimmed large chunks of the next 175 pages and enjoyed the last 25. It is the story of two French astronomers in the 1790's trying to get an accurate reading of the distance from Dunkirk to Barcelona so that they can divide that distance to come up with standard measure for a meter. The book also involves the French Revolution, Napoleon Bonaparte conquering Europe and the beginnings of the metric system. Dense and dry in spots but lots of detail if you like that sort of thing.
August 12, 2013
A very fine account of the attempts to authoritatively size the meter using a meridian survey in the 1790s. Alder breathes life into the effort to engineer a truly "objective" metric system and shows how that was doomed to failure. The most fascinating account concerns the savant Mechain whose life becomes a torment when he finds himself committing a critical measurement error, little realizing that it was not. This one is endlessly fascinating.
January 15, 2016
Engaging read from a human angle about the effort to create a better standard and measure our earth. We are indebted to people who developed accurate measurement systems. Wish we could move to a logical system like metric in the USA.
April 20, 2016
Author made simple things complicated.
January 24, 2018
This is a book about the design and establishment of the metric system for measurement in 18th century France. It spans the years of the French revolution, during which some of the protagonists lose their heads. The decision had been taken to rationalise the hundreds (maybe thousands) of conflicting measures of distance, weight and volume that existed in France into a set of "universal" constants, based on the dimensions of the earth. At the same time the French were revolutionising not just measurement but also the calendar and time - to much opposition amongst the ordinary people. The metre was to be a fixed proportion of the quarter meridian of the planet, so in June 1792 Jean-Baptiste-Joseph Delambre would make his way north to Dunkirk, while Pierre-François-André Méchain voyaged south to Barcelona, they would measure very accurately the dimensions of the earth, and meet up to compare notes. Far too much of this book is taken up with the problems they had in fulfilling their mission - we seem to be told about every tree that Méchain was forced to fell, and every screw that worked loose in Delambre's instruments. No matter. The reference to a "hidden error" concerns the inaccuracy that Méchain introduced through his measurements, a private disgrace that plagued him to the grave (he died of malaria having failed to complete his measurements). The inaccurate metre was eventually cast in platinum, and over the next two hundred years was adopted by most of the world as a national standard. Today it is based on the distance light travels in a given time interval, so maybe it ended up linked to a natural constant after all! In learning of the debates amongst the scientist "savants" about how to approach the problem, and their rather extreme positions and prejudices, I am reminded of Churchill's dictum that in matters of advice, experts should be "on tap", rather than "on top". Napoleon had the right idea - faced with opposition he shelved adoption of the metric system, and it took until the early 19th century for it to be re-instituted. The revolutionary day and month names, the week of 10 days, and hour of 100 minutes, are however gone and forgotten. Interesting story, but over long.
July 28, 2021
This one I stumbled on as a book-on-tape. I was looking for something to pass the car ride up to Vermont, and the guy on the back of the box of cassettes, author Ken Alder, looked like a down-to-earth, pleasant enough fellow. Plus, I’m a fan of sweeping ambition.
Alder doesn’t disappoint, though I did have to listen to the book again on the way back, just because the major players are French and it was tough to tell their names apart the first time through. The basic gist is this: During the French Revolution, two guys set out from Paris in opposite directions to take a series of measurements. Their aim is to establish one infallible unit of measure throughout the world based upon the circumference of the globe itself, thereby making economies more regular and egalitarian and, well, global.
Long story short, one guy messes up the measurements and spends the rest of his life trying, in vain, to first hide and later rectify his error. After a while, the other guy starts to smell something fishy but he covers for his partner because, alas, all the numbers are in and the thing’s been carved out in platinum for everybody to see. Close enough for government work, he seems to say.
The result: The meter, originally supposed to be precisely 1/10,000,000 the distance between the north pole and the equator, is just a smidge short of that mark and will be for all time. It is, then, not linked to anything as “unassailable” as our pockmarked and, it turns out, oblong Earth; it’s just as arbitrary, just as abstract, just as man-made as measurements have always been. An Enlightenment Age pursuit that was supposed to prove, once and for all, the unassailable nature of reason, the exactitude of measurement, and the infallibility of the human mind did precisely the opposite. There is always a scintilla of error.
The question: Not so much "Does it matter that the meter is a little white lie?" but "Who wants to live in a measurable Cosmos anyway?" Pierre-François-André Méchain (not to be confused with his partner, Jean-Baptiste-Joseph Delambre) did, and he died in reckless/restless pursuit of that futile math.
Alder doesn’t disappoint, though I did have to listen to the book again on the way back, just because the major players are French and it was tough to tell their names apart the first time through. The basic gist is this: During the French Revolution, two guys set out from Paris in opposite directions to take a series of measurements. Their aim is to establish one infallible unit of measure throughout the world based upon the circumference of the globe itself, thereby making economies more regular and egalitarian and, well, global.
Long story short, one guy messes up the measurements and spends the rest of his life trying, in vain, to first hide and later rectify his error. After a while, the other guy starts to smell something fishy but he covers for his partner because, alas, all the numbers are in and the thing’s been carved out in platinum for everybody to see. Close enough for government work, he seems to say.
The result: The meter, originally supposed to be precisely 1/10,000,000 the distance between the north pole and the equator, is just a smidge short of that mark and will be for all time. It is, then, not linked to anything as “unassailable” as our pockmarked and, it turns out, oblong Earth; it’s just as arbitrary, just as abstract, just as man-made as measurements have always been. An Enlightenment Age pursuit that was supposed to prove, once and for all, the unassailable nature of reason, the exactitude of measurement, and the infallibility of the human mind did precisely the opposite. There is always a scintilla of error.
The question: Not so much "Does it matter that the meter is a little white lie?" but "Who wants to live in a measurable Cosmos anyway?" Pierre-François-André Méchain (not to be confused with his partner, Jean-Baptiste-Joseph Delambre) did, and he died in reckless/restless pursuit of that futile math.
March 29, 2021
'The Measure of All Things' doesn't quite know what it is. Ken Alder combined a dramatic account from the French Revolution, the internal demise of a paranoid astronomer, and a spotty history of the metric system to our current day. Ultimately, what the book portrays is the transition of a national community of savants into an international community of scientists.
Alder tells the story of Delambre and Mechain on their 'Seven-Year Odyssey' in painstaking detail. This is of course the most interesting and narrative portion of the book. It is incredible to read about how physically demanding the work of geodesists was in the 18th century and I leave the book with a profound respect for their work. The second promise of the subtitle, the 'Hidden Error That Transformed the World,' is not delivered upon. There was indeed a hidden error of great consequence, but it is not clear that this affected the length of the meter. Possibly, this hidden error inspired scientists to study the actual process of making errors. Errors are inevitable after all, and the belief that they could be avoided is what pushed Mechain toward depression. But, again, this hidden error is not the direct inspiration for studying errors. The title is being overly dramatic and promises too much.
Mechain's descent into self-doubt and melancholy was fascinating and frustrating. The turmoil of the French Revolution was reflected in Mechain's psyche. His struggle brings an empathetic depth to an otherwise lifeless catalog of events. Also, having never read a history of the French Revolution, to see it through the experience of these astronomers was worth the effort of reading this book.
Despite its charms, it is much too long. Alder pored over an excessive amount of dry text and compiled it all down to 350 pages, but I honestly feel like the book could have easily fit within 200 pages (or maybe even less than that.) I would recommend this book solely to astronomy and geodesy enthusiasts. Even so, I'm glad I read it.
Alder tells the story of Delambre and Mechain on their 'Seven-Year Odyssey' in painstaking detail. This is of course the most interesting and narrative portion of the book. It is incredible to read about how physically demanding the work of geodesists was in the 18th century and I leave the book with a profound respect for their work. The second promise of the subtitle, the 'Hidden Error That Transformed the World,' is not delivered upon. There was indeed a hidden error of great consequence, but it is not clear that this affected the length of the meter. Possibly, this hidden error inspired scientists to study the actual process of making errors. Errors are inevitable after all, and the belief that they could be avoided is what pushed Mechain toward depression. But, again, this hidden error is not the direct inspiration for studying errors. The title is being overly dramatic and promises too much.
Mechain's descent into self-doubt and melancholy was fascinating and frustrating. The turmoil of the French Revolution was reflected in Mechain's psyche. His struggle brings an empathetic depth to an otherwise lifeless catalog of events. Also, having never read a history of the French Revolution, to see it through the experience of these astronomers was worth the effort of reading this book.
Despite its charms, it is much too long. Alder pored over an excessive amount of dry text and compiled it all down to 350 pages, but I honestly feel like the book could have easily fit within 200 pages (or maybe even less than that.) I would recommend this book solely to astronomy and geodesy enthusiasts. Even so, I'm glad I read it.
September 23, 2022
Not easy to finish, but totally worth it. I know almost nothing about this adventure, and I don't quite understand the tech discussion about geodesy, but this also makes the reading a very eye opening experience.
What I like Most is that this book tells much more than measuring. Here and there I read interesting hiatorical facts about the French revolution events, the chaos but also the rationale of various local measures, the France and Spain war at the border, the psychological analysis of what happened to one of the savants weird behavior, the malaria (!)and the cincona bark, and the academic circles of French elites. Also, why US still uses non metric system till today because it molds laws for people instead of molding people for laws. Wow, what a great reason.
Anyway, it is a good learning experience to know so many new things from one book.
What I like Most is that this book tells much more than measuring. Here and there I read interesting hiatorical facts about the French revolution events, the chaos but also the rationale of various local measures, the France and Spain war at the border, the psychological analysis of what happened to one of the savants weird behavior, the malaria (!)and the cincona bark, and the academic circles of French elites. Also, why US still uses non metric system till today because it molds laws for people instead of molding people for laws. Wow, what a great reason.
Anyway, it is a good learning experience to know so many new things from one book.
December 31, 2017
I asked for this book because I wanted to learn more about the development of the metric system and found so much more in it.
Other than the herculean effort it took to try and "measure" a portion of a meridian, it was the story of Méchain's struggles that helped me get a better understanding of the origin of the scientific concept of "precision". He couldn't understand why repeat measurements would yield different results and died thinking he had committed a serious scientific error that he was ashamed to reveal.
Other than the herculean effort it took to try and "measure" a portion of a meridian, it was the story of Méchain's struggles that helped me get a better understanding of the origin of the scientific concept of "precision". He couldn't understand why repeat measurements would yield different results and died thinking he had committed a serious scientific error that he was ashamed to reveal.
November 2, 2017
It's hard to say exactly why I enjoyed this so much, but I did.
The book starts as a basic accounting of a geodetic survey to define the new meter length during the French Revolution. But, gradually, it morphs into a tragedy about error and professional paranoia, finally ending with a discussion on the limits of scientific certainty.
You really wouldn't think so, but it's riveting.
The book starts as a basic accounting of a geodetic survey to define the new meter length during the French Revolution. But, gradually, it morphs into a tragedy about error and professional paranoia, finally ending with a discussion on the limits of scientific certainty.
You really wouldn't think so, but it's riveting.
June 9, 2022
Først trudde eg det mest irriterande med boka var at distansar er oppgjevne i fot og miles, så trudde eg det var den dustete aksenten opplesaren brukte når han las opp frå brev etc, men heilt til slutt forstod eg (det vart nemnt ETTER at boka er ferdig) at det mest irriterande er at boka er føkking FORKORTA
March 23, 2023
Interesting read and well written.
But it is a bit ironic that the old measures are converted to the imperial system and not ... well the metric one.
Aside from that the book tells a really interesting story about how the metric system came to be, as well as the political and scientific struggles that influenced its creation.
But it is a bit ironic that the old measures are converted to the imperial system and not ... well the metric one.
Aside from that the book tells a really interesting story about how the metric system came to be, as well as the political and scientific struggles that influenced its creation.
May 13, 2024
Low four stars. For a book that took me a while to finish, I have to acknowledge that the middle part was quite boring - too many accounts of the same travails. That being said, the main goal and the end part (i.e. the implications of the metric system) is quite intriguing and thus four stars is barely acceptable for this.
September 10, 2018
Extraordinario relato sobre la medición de la Tierra y del metro, la medida que usamos, precisamente, para medir todas las cosas. Al nivel de "Longitud", otro gran relato de una historia extraordinaria poco conocida.
January 22, 2021
An interesting history touching on measurement in general and the meter more specifically. Most of the events take place shortly after the French Revolution so this context is also important to the narrative. The mental health problems of Mechain cause the reader much anguish. Informative.
August 10, 2017
An interesting read, a little slow at times, but it picked up steam near the end.
April 14, 2018
Slightly meandering, but overall enjoyable. On a related note, I can't believe I just read a soap opera about two French guys in the eighteenth century. Thanks science?
April 16, 2018
Very pleasant reading. Always a controversy when the meter is involved.
June 29, 2018
Interesting history of the metric system. Too much detail for my taste.
September 24, 2018
In the history of science survey course I imagine and revise in my head, this book is always part of the syllabus.
October 21, 2018
Overall interesting book and story about the meter. Enjoyed the historical part and adding that context to the story was very helpful.
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