By Samuel Butler
In the poem which takes the scientific community to task, Butler points out that you often find what you are looking for, but alas, it's not always the truth!
IN LONG VERSE from The Poetical Works of Samuel Butler, With Life, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes by Rev. George Gilfillan. Edinburgh, 1854, Volume 2.
"(These remains are undoubtedly genuine, although fragmentary. Butler left them with his friend, W. Longueville of the Temple, who had saved him from starving, and buried him. His son, Charles Longueville, bequeathed them to one John Clarke, Esq.; and by him they were handed to Mr Thyer. After the author had finished this story in short verse, he took it in his head to attempt it in long. It was written after the other, and has considerable additions and variations.)
A VIRTUOUS, learn'd Society, of late
The pride and glory of a foreign state,
Made an agreement on a summers night,
To search the Moon at full, by her own light;
To take a perfect invent'ry of all
Her real fortunes, or her personal;
And make a geometrical survey
Of all her lands, and how her country lay;
As accurate as that of Ireland, where
The sly surveyor's said t' have sunk a shire:
***
Far-fet:' i.e., fetched.
****
T' observe her country's climate, how 'twas' planted,
And what she most abounded with, or wanted;
And draw maps of her prop'rest situations
For settling, and erecting new plantations;
If ever the Society should incline
T' attempt so great and glorious a design:
"A task in vain, unless the German Kepler
Had found out a discovery to people her,
And stock her country with inhabitants
Of military men, and elephants.
For th' Ancients only took her for a piece
Of red-hot iron, as big as Peloponnese,
Till he appear'd; for which, some write, she sent
Upon his tribe as strange a punishment "(1)
This was the only purpose of their meeting,
For which they chose a time and place most fitting;
When, at the full, her equal shares of light
And influence were at their greatest height.
And now the lofty telescope, the scale
By which they venture Heav'n itself t' assail,
Was raised, and planted full against the Moon;
And all the rest stood ready to fall on,
Impatient who should bear away the honour
To plant an ensign, first of all, upon her.
When one, who, for his solid deep belief,
Was chosen Virtuoso then in chief;
Had been approved the most profound, and wise
At solving all impossibilities,
With gravity advancing, to apply
To th' optic-glass his penetrating eye,
Cry,d out, 0 strange! -then reinforced his sight
Against the Moon with all his art and might;
***
(1) punishment;, i.e., lunacy
. ***
And bent the muscles of his pensive brow,
As if he meant to stare and gaze her thro',
While all the rest began as much t' admire,
And, like a powder-train, from him took fire,
Surprized with dull amazement beforehand
At what they would, but could not, understand;
And grew impatient to discover, what
The matter was they so much wonder'd at.
Quoth he, The old inhabitants o' th' Moon,
Who, when the Sun shines hottest about noon,
Are wont to live in cellars under ground,
Of eight miles deep, and more than eighty round,
In which at once they use to fortify
Against the sunbeams and the enemy,
Are counted borough-towns and cities there,
Because th' inhabitants are civiler
Than those rude country peasants, that are found,
Like mountaineers, to live on th' upper ground,
Named Privolvans, with whom the others are
Perpetually in state of open war.
And now both armies, mortally enraged,
Are in a fierce and bloody fight engaged;
And many fall on both sides kill'd and slain,
As by the telescope 'tis clear and plain.
Look in it quickly then; that every one
May see his share before the battle's done.
At this, a famous great philosopher,
Admired, and celebrated far and near,
As one of wond'rous singular invention,
And equal universal comprehension,
"By which he had composed a pedlar's jargon,
For all the world to learn, and use in bargain,
An universal canting idiom,
To understand the swinging pendulum.
And to communicate, in all designs,
With th' Eastern virtuoso-mandarines,
Apply'd an optic nerve, and half a nose,
To th' end and centre of the engine close:
For he had, very lately, undertook
To vindicate, and publish in a book,
That men, whose native eyes are blind, or out,
May by more admirable art, be brought
To see with empty holes as well and plain,
As if their eyes had been put in again.
This great man, therefore, having fix'd his sight
T' observe the bloody formidable fight,
Consider'd carefully, and then cry'd out,
'Tis true, the battle's desperately fought;
The gallant Subvolvans begin to rally,
And from their trenches valiantly sally,
To fall upon their stubborn enemy,
Who fearfully begin to rout and fly.
These paltry domineering Privolvans
Have, every summer season, their campaigns;
And muster, like the military sons Of Raw-head,
and victorious Bloody-bones,
As great and numerous as Solan geese
I' th' summer-islands of the Orcades,
Courageously to make a dreadful stand,
And boldly face their neighbours hand to hand;
Until the peaceful, long'd-for winter's come,
And then disband, and march in triumph home;
And spend the rest of all the year in lies,
And vap'ring of their unknown victories.
From th' old Arcadians they have been believed
To be, before the Moon herself, derived;
And, when her orb was first of all created,
To be from thence, to people her, translated.
For as those people had been long reputed,
Of all the Peloponnesians, the most stupid,
Whom nothing in the world could ever bring
T' endure the civil life, but fiddle-ing
They ever since retain the antique course,
And native frenzy of their ancestors;
And always used to sing, and fiddle to
Things of the most important weight they do.
While thus the Virtuoso entertains
The whole assembly with the Privolvans,
"Anotber sophist, but of less renown,
Though longer observation of the Moon,"
That understood the difference of her soils,
And which produced the fairest genet-moyles;
"But for an unpaid weekly shilling's pension,
Had fined for wit, and judgment, and invention;"
Who, after poring tedious and hard
In th' optic-engine, gave a start, and stared,
And thus began-A stranger sight appears,
Than ever yet was seen in all the spheres;
A greater wonder, more unparallel'd
That ever mortal tube, or eye beheld;
A mighty Elephant from one of those
Two fighting armies is at length broke loose,
And with the desp'rate horror of the fight
Appears amazed, and in a dreadful fright
Look quickly, lest the only sight of us
Should cause the startled creature to emboss.
It is a large one, and appears more great
Than ever was produced in Afric yet;
From which we confidently may infer,
The Moon appears to be the fruitfuller.
And since, of old, the mighty Pyrrhus brought
Those living castles first of all, 'tis thought,
Against the Roman army in the field,
It may a valid argument be held
(The same Arcadia being but a piece,
As his dominions were, of antique Greece)
To vindicate, what this illustrious person
Has made so learn'd and noble a discourse on;
And given us ample satisfaction all
Of th' ancient Privolvans' original.
That Elephants are really in the Moon,
Although our fortune had discover'd none,
Is easily made plain, and manifest,
Since from the greatest orbs, down to the least,
All other globes of stars and constellations
Have cattle in 'em of all sorts and nations;
And Heav'n, like a northern Tartar's horde,
With numerous and mighty droves is stored.
And if the Moon can but produce by Nature
A people of so large and vast a stature,
'Tis more than probable, she should bring forth
A greater breed of beasts too, than the Earth;
As by the best accounts we have, appears
Of all our crediblest discoverers;
And, that those vast and monstrous creatures there
Are not such far-fet rarities, as here.
Meanwhile th' assembly now had had a sight
Of all distinct particulars 0' th' fight;
And ev'ry man with diligence and care
Perused, and view'd of th' Elephant his share,
Proud of his equal int'rest in the glory
Of so stupendous and renown'd a story;
When one, who for his fame and excellence
In height'ning of words, and shadowing sense,
And magnifying all he ever writ,
With delicate and microscopic wit,
Had long been magnify'd himself no less
In foreign and domestic colleges,
Began at last (transported with the twang
Of his own elocution) thus t' harangue:
Most virtuous and incomparable friends,
This great discov'ry fully makes amends
For all our former unsuccessful pains,
And lost expenses of our time and brains:
For, by this admirable phenomenon,
We now have gotten ground upon the Moon;
And gain'd a pass t' engage, and hold dispute
With all the other planets, that stand out;
And carry on this brave and virtuous war
Home to the door of th' obstinatest star;
And plant th' artillery of our optic tubes
Against the proudest of their magnitudes;
To stretch our future victories beyond
The uttermost of planetary ground;
And plant our warlike engines, and our ensigns
Upon the fix'd stars' spacious dimensions,
To prove, if they are other suns, or not,
As some philosophers have wisely thought,
Or only windows in the empyreum,
Through which those bright effluvias use to come;
Which Archimede, so many years ago,
Durst never venture, but to wish to know.
Or is this all, that we have now achieved,
But greater things!-henceforth to be believed,
And have no more our best, or worst designs,
Because they 're ours, suspected for ill signs.
T' out-throw, and magnify, and to enlarge,
Shall, henceforth, be no more laid to our charge;
Nor shall our best and ablest virtuosos
Prove arguments again for coffee-houses;
"Nor little stories gain belief among
Our criticallest judges, right or wrong:,
Nor shall our new-invented chariots draw
The boys to course us in em, without law:
"Make chips of elms produce the largest trees,
Or sowing saw-dust furnish nurseries:
No more our heading darts (a swinging one!)
With butter only harden'd in the sun;
Or men that used to whistle loud enough
To be heard by others plainly five miles off;
Cause all the rest, we own, and have avow'd
To be believed as desperately loud."
Nor shall our future speculations, whether
An elder-stick will render all the leather
Of schoolboys' breeches proof against the rod,
Make all we undertake appear as odd.
This one discovery will prove enough
To take all past and future scandals off:
But since the world is so incredulous
Of all our future scrutinies, and us;
And with a constant prejudice prevents
Our best, as well as worst experiments,
As if they were all destined to miscarry,
As well in concert try'd, as solitary;
And that th' assembly is uncertain, when
Such great discoveries will occur again,
'Tis reas'nable, we should, at least, contrive
To draw up as exact a narrative
Of that which ev'ry man of us can swear,
Our eyes themselves have plainly seen appear;
That, when 'tis fit to publish the account,
We all may take our sev'ral oaths upon 't.
This said, the whole assembly gave consent
To drawing up th' authentic instrument,
And, for the nation's gen'ral satisfaction,
To print, and own it in the next Transaction..
But whilst their ablest men were drawing up
The wonderful Memoir o' th' telescope,
A member peeping in the tube by chance,
Beheld the Elephant begin t' advance,
That from the west-by-north side of the Moon
To th' east-by-south was in a moment gone.
This being related, gave a sudden stop
To all their grandees had been drawing up;
And ev'ry person was amazed anew
How such a strange suprisal should be true;
Or any beast perform so great a race,
So swift and rapid, in so short a space;
Resolved, as suddenly, to make it good,
Or render all as fairly as they could;
And rather choose their own eyes to condemn,
Than question, what they had beheld with them.
While ev'ry one was thus resolved, a man
Of great esteem and credit thus began:
'Tis strange, I grant! but who, alas! can say
What cannot be, or justly can, and may,
Especially at so hugely wide and vast
A distance, as this miracle is placed,
Where the least error of the glass, or sight,
May render things amiss, but never right?
Nor can we try them, when they 're so far off;
By any equal sublunary proof:
For who can justify that Nature there
Is ty'd to the same laws she acts by here ?
Nor is it probable she has infused
Int' ev'ry species, in the Moon produc'd
,
The same effects she uses to confer
Upon the very same productions here:
Since those upon the earth, of several nations
Are found t' have such prodigious variations;
And she affects so constantly to use
Variety in every thing she does.
From hence may be inferr'd, that, though I grant,
We have beheld i' th' Moon an Elephant,
That Elephant may chance to differ so
From those with us, upon the earth below,
Both in his bulk, as well as force and speed.
As being of a diff'rent kind and breed,
That, tho' 'tis true, our own are but slow-paced,
Theirs there perhaps may fly, or run as fast,
And yet be very Elephants, no less
Than those derived from Indian families
.
This said, another member of great worth,
Famed for the learned works he had put forth,
In which the mannerly and modest author
Quotes the Right Worshipful, his elder brother,"
Look'd wise awhile, then said, All this is true,
And very learnedly observed by you;
But there's another nobler reason for't,
That, rightly 'bserved, will fall but little short
Of solid mathematic demonstration,
Upon a full and perfect calculation;
And that is only this - As th' Earth and Moon
Do constantly move contrary upon
Their sev'ral axes, the rapidity
Of both their motions cannot fail to be
So violent, and naturally fast,
That larger distances may well be passed,
In less time than the Elephant has gone,
Altho' he had no motion of his own;
Which we on earth can take no measure of;
As you have made it evident by proof.
This granted, we may confidently hence
Claim title to another inference,
And make this wonderful phenomenon
(Were there no other) serve our turn alone,
To vindicate the grand hypothesis,
And prove the motion of the Earth from this.
This said, th' assembly now was satisfy'd,
As men are soon upon the biass'd side;
With great applause received th' admired dispute,
And grew more gay, and brisk, and resolute,
By having (right or wrong) removed all doubt,
Than if th' occasion never had fall'n out;
Resolving to complete their Narrative,
And punctually insert this strange retrieve.
But, while their grandees were diverted all
With nicely wording the Memorial,
The footboys, for their own diversion too,
As having nothing, now, at all to do,
And when they saw the telescope at leisure,
Turn'd virtuosos, only for their pleasure;
With drills and monkeys' ingenuity,
That take delight to practise all they see,"
Began to stare and gaze upon the Moon,
As those they waited on, before had done;
When one, whose turn it was, by chance to peep,
Saw something in the lofty engine creep;
And, viewing carefully, discover'd more
Than all their masters hit upon before.
Quoth he, 0 strange! a little thing is slunk
On th' inside of the long star-gazing trunk;
And now is gotten down so low and nigh,
I have him here directly 'gainst mine eye.
This chancing to be overheard by one
Who was not yet so hugely overgrown
In any philosophic observation,
As to conclude with mere imagination;
And yet he made immediately a guess
At fully solving all appearances,
A plainer way, and more significant,
Than all their hints had proved o' the Elephant;
And quickly found, upon a second view,
His own conjecture, probably, most true
For he no sooner had apply'd his eye
To th' optic engine, but immediately
He found a small field-mouse was gotten in
The hollow telescope, and shut between
The two glass windows, closely in restraint,
Was magnify'd into an Elephant;
And proved the happy virtuous occasion
Of all this deep and learned dissertation.
And as a mighty mountain heretofore
Is said t' have been begot with child, and bore
A silly mouse, this captive mouse, as strange,
Produced another mountain in exchange.
Meanwhile the grandees, long in consultation,
Had finish'd the miraculous Narration,
And set their hands, and seals, and sense3 and wit
T' attest and vouch the truth of all they'd writ;
When this unfortunate phenomenon
Confounded all they had declared and done.
For 'twas no sooner told, and hinted at,
But all the rest were in a tumult straight,
More hot and furiously enraged, by far,
Than both the hosts that in the Moon made war,
To find so rare and admirable a hint,
When they had all agreed, and sworn t' have seen't
And had engaged themselves to make it out,
Obstructed with a wretched paltry doubt
When one, whose only task was to determine,
And solve the worst appearances of vermin;
Who oft had made profound discoveries
In frogs and toads, as well as rats and mice
(Though not so curious and exact, 'tis true,
As many an exquisite rat-catcher knew),
After he had awhile with signs made way
For something pertinent, he had to say,
At last prevail'd - Quoth he, This disquisition
Is, the one half of it, in my discission
For tho' 'tis true the Elephant, as beast,
Belongs, of nat'ral right, to all the rest;
The Mouse, that's but a paltry vermin, none
Can claim a title to, but I alone;
And therefore humbly hope I may be heard
In my own province freely, with reward.
It is no wonder, that we are cry'd down,
And made the table-talk of all the town,
That rants and vapours still, for all our great
Designs and projects, we've done nothing yet,
If ev'ry one have liberty to doubt,
When some great secret 's more than half made out,
Because, perhaps, it will not hold out true,
And put -a stop to all w' attempt to do.
As no great action ever has been done,
~or ever's like to be by truth alone;
If nothing else but only truth w' allow
'Tis no great matter what w' intend to do;
For Truth is always too reserved and chaste,
T' endure to be by all the town embraced,
A solitary anchorite, that dwells,
Retired from all the world, in obscure cells,
Disdains all great assemblies, and defies
The press and crowd of mix'd societies,
That use to deal in novelty and change,
Not of things true, but great, and rare, and strange;
To entertain the world with what is fit
And proper for its genius, and its wit ;
The world, that's never found to set esteem
On what things are, but what th' appear, and seem;
And, if they are not wonderful and new,
They 're ne'er the better for their being true.
"For what is truth, or knowledge, but a kind
Of wantonness and luxury o' the mind,
A greediness and gluttony 0' the brain,
That longs to eat forbidden fruit again,
And grows more desp'rate, like the worst diseases,
Upon the nobler part (the mind) it seizes ?"
And what has mankind ever gain'd by knowing
His little truths, unless his own undoing,
That prudently by Nature had been hidden,
And only for his greater good forbidden?
And therefore with as great discretion does
The world endeavour still to keep it close
For if the secrets of all truths were known,
Who would not, once more, be as much undone ?
For truth is never without danger in 't,
As here it has deprived us of a hint
The whole assembly had agreed upon,
And utterly defeated all w' had done,
"By giving footboys leave to interpose,
And disappoint whatever we propose;
For nothing but to cut out work for STUBS,
And all the busy academic clubs,
"For which they have deserved to run the risks
Of elder-sticks, and penitential frisks."
How much, then, ought we have a special care
That none presume to know above his share;
Nor take upon him t' understand, henceforth,
More than his weekly contribution 's worth
That all those that have purchased of the college
A half; or but a quarter share of knowledge.
And brought none in themselves, but spent repute,
Should never be admitted to dispute;
Nor any member undertake to know
More than his equal dividend comes to:
For partners have perpetually been known
T' impose upon their public interest, prone;
And, if we have not greater care of ours,
It will be sure to run the self-same course.
This said, the whole Society allow'd
The doctrine to be orthodox, and good;
And from th' apparent truth of what they'd heard,
Resolved, henceforth, to give Truth no regard,
But what was for their interests to vouch,
And either find it out, or make it such:
That 'twas more admirable to create
Inventions like truth, out of strong conceit,
Than with vexatious study, pains, and doubt,
To find, or but suppose t' have found it out,
This being resolved, the assembly, one by one,
Review'd the tube, the Elephant, and Moon;
But still the more and curiouser they pry'd,
They but became the more unsatisfy'd,
In no one thing they gazed upon agreeing,
As if they'd different principles of seeing.
Some boldly swore, upon a second view,
That all they had beheld before was true,
And damn'd themselves, they never would recant
One syllable they'd seen, of th' Elephant;
Avow'd his shape and snout could be no Mouse's,
But a true nat'ral Elephant's proboscis.
Others began to doubt as much, and waver,
Uncertain which to disallow, or favour;
"Until they had as many cross resolves,
As Irishmen that have been turn'd to wolves;"
And grew distracted, whether to espouse
The party of the Elephant or Mouse.
Some held there was no way so orthodox,
As to refer it to the ballot-box;
And, like some other nation's patriots,
To find it out, or make the truth, by votes.
Others were of opinion, 'twas 'more fit
T' unmount the telescope, and open it;
And for their own and all men's satisfaction,
To search, and re-examine the Transaction;
And afterward to explicate the rest,
As they should see occasion for the best
.
To this, at length, as th' only expedient,
The whole assembly freely gave consent:
But, 'ere the optic tube was half let down,
Their own eyes clear'd the first phenomenon;
For; at the upper end, prodigious swarms
Of busy flies and gnats, like men in arms,
Had all pass'd muster in the glass by chance,
For both the Pri- and the Sub-volvans.
This being discover'd, once more put them all
Into a worse and desperater brawl,
Surprised with shame, that men so grave and wise
Should be trepann'd by paltry gnats and flies;
And to mistake the feeble insects' swarms
For squadrons, and reserves of men in arms:
As politic as those, who, when the Moon
As bright and glorious in a river shone,
Threw casting-nets, with equal cunning at her,
To catch her with, and pull her out o' the water.
But when at last, they had unscrew'd the glass,
To find out where the sly impostor was,
And saw 'twas but a Mouse, that by mishap
Had catch'd himself; and them, in th' optic trap,
Amazed, with shame confounded, and afflicted,
To find themselves so openly convicted,
Immediately made haste to get them gone,
With none, but this discovery alone:
That learned men, who greedily pursue
Things that are rather wonderful than true,
And, in their nicest speculations, choose
To make their own discoveries strange news,
And nat'ral hist'ry rather a Gazette
Of rarities stupendous, and far-fet;
Believe no truths are worthy to be known,
That are not strongly vast, and overgrown;
And strive to explicate appearances,
Not as they're probable, but as they please;
In vain endeavour Nature to suborn,
And, for their pains, are justly paid with scorn."
****
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