[Poems by Hopkins in] The Echo with other poems |
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| 6. | ECHO.....NO. VI. |
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 | [Poems by Hopkins in] The Echo |  |
ECHO.....NO. VI.
From the Connecticut Gazette, of October 20, 1791.
[Some time since a writer in the Connecticut Gazette attacked the Newtonian Philosophy with such astonishing force of argument, that many of its friends trembled for its fate. However, as he rested a considerable period, they fondly hoped it would survive the shock. A week or two since, he poured forth another volley, which has induced the Echo to speak in an audible voice, what he had before uttered in a whisper.]
“Messrs. Green,
“Your inserting the following in your useful paper will oblige one of your readers and perhaps make others reflect.
“The Newtonian philosophy accounts for all the phenomena of nature by one principle, which it supposes to pervade all material nature: and the principle is this, viz.—that matter attracts matter. But, that this principle never did, nor does now, nor never will exist, I thus prove.
“If matter attracts matter, either there must be an universal plenum, or matter must act where it is not. But, that there is not an universal plenum in material nature has been mathematically demonstrated by all Newtonians of any note: and that matter can act where it is not, is an impossibility, for it is an impossibility that matter should be where it is not—therefore a much greater impossibility that it should act where it is not, and therefore matter, never did—does not now—nor ever will attract matter.
“Nay, farther, even upon the hypothesis of an universal plenum, in material nature, matter's attracting matter would be physically inconsistent with the essence of matter. For, though in
“To go still farther, if matter should be supposed unresisting, that is, deprived of its vis inertiæ, that it would be still more unfavourable to the Newtonian principle, that matter attracts matter, may be easily demonstrated. Hence, let the Newtonians no more pretend to account for the various phenomena of nature by their favourite principle, till they refute these arguments and many more ready to be adduced.
Anonymous.”“Again strikes up the philosophic knell!
“While borne along the whispering tide of air,
“The ghost of Genius seems to stop, and stare.”
Dear Messrs. Green, with diffidence extreme,
I ask a corner for my humble theme,
In your most useful paper, which appears
To grow in wonder, as it grows in years,
(How much more pleasing than that hackney'd road
By other papers, and by Nature, trod;
For Wonderment, like Love, delights to spread
Her airy phantoms round the youthful head,
But soon retires, when Age's wint'ry snow,
Sheds its white honours o'er the wrinkled brow.)
'Twill, kind as dews on Hermon that distil,
One reader's breast with sweet sensations thrill,
In rich manure the seeds of knowledge sow,
And, like a hot-bed, make reflection grow.
The underpinning of philosophy
By Newton taught—the wonder-working sage,
With this idea blotted many a page;
This favourite truth the wizard thought he found
On sea, and land, above and under ground—
A kind of cord of love, more strong than leather,
Which ties bears, snakes, and owls, and men together—
That makes creation one stupendous team.
But to those souls who'll condescend to list,
I'll prove this principle did ne'er exist,
And never will—Nay more—with all their clatter,
I'll prove that Matter never heard of Matter.
This only proves that Matter is distracted,
Or else this self-same Matter must act most
Where Matter, motion, time, and space are lost.
But that dame Nature ne'er a plenum makes,
We know by this, dame Nature ne'er mistakes;
For she abhors this monster more than space,
More than a Quaker hates a golden lace,
More than the tuneful choir the bird of night,
Or more than Atheists hate Religion's light.
Newtonians fain would prove—but well we know
'Tis not—nay more—if 'tis, it shan't be so,
For if this magic Plenum fills all nature,
And holds in durance every struggling creature,
Even Nature's self must be content at home,
Nor even a “groaning,” force her steps to roam—
Besides, that Matter should find cords to pull
Beyond where space with something is fill'd full,
Is just as likely as that sense should be
Found in those skulls were dwells Inanity:
And hence this ergo—Matter does not now,
Nor ever did, nor ever will, find how
By word, or deed, or any juggling tricks,
To make discordant atoms friendly mix.
Why then 'tis plain we're full on every side,
With flesh, and fish, and fowl of every kind;
And much I fear dame Nature will complain,
And wring, and twist her sides, in cholic pain;
Unless good Dr. B---e will assist her,
And make a vacuum with his sovereign clyster.
For tho' a goose, or turkey, may delight
In being stopp'd and cramm'd so very tight;
Yet we, a fowl of somewhat different palate,
Had rather have the meat without that sallad.
But if amidst this vast terrestrial ball,
One universal Plenum fills up all,
And Matter's parts are wedg'd as close together,
As three in bed, or pigs in stormy weather,
Yet, not conjoin'd by Love's attractive power,
No smiling Hymen waits the nuptial hour;
But by external impulse made to wed,
Are forc'd reluctant to the marriage bed.
In all things, great or small, this fact we see,
That ne'er with motion Matter can agree:
For can a log of wood, or stack of hay,
Take leg, or wing, and bear itself away?
No—when we wish such things to move, of course
We take a team of cattle, or a horse.
This fully proves that Matter has no motion
And Newton's system all an idle notion.
'Tis true, in times of old, when Orpheus sung,
When stones were tender soul'd, and Nature young,
And music trembled from the lofty oak,
To sound of human voice the rocks would prance,
And elms and maples join in country dance.
Now less polite, their feelings callous grown,
No voice of music stirs a stick, or stone,
And we in vain our sweetest notes might raise,
In these barbarian and degenerate days,
And fairly fret away both lungs, and liver,
Before a stump, or stone, would condescend to quiver.
If join'd with Motion, Matter ne'er can be,
Where ever Motion comes, when e'er 'tis known
To act on timber, metal, clay, or stone,
Whate'er the agent that directs its force,
Air, water, fire, man, cattle, mule, or horse,
Matter, like Rat, when Guinea-pig too nigh
Offends his savoury nose, and shocks his eye,
Vex'd at the intrusion, in a mighty huff,
Packs up her duds, and surlily goes off,
And as she takes her leave (so sweet and civil)
Wishes the clownish fellow to the devil.
Thus in a torrent swell'd with wintry rains,
That rends the hills, and deluges the plains,
Bears wild destruction on its foaming wave,
And sweeps the pumpkins to a watery grave;
Or in a kettle, where some house-wife good,
Prepares the Mush, her children's homely food,
High o'er the brim, hoarse muttering strives to pass;
No Matter can reside, for Motion's power
Impels the pudding's rise, and torrent's roar;
But when the torrent in a pond subsides,
By storms unruffled, and unmov'd by tides,
When freed from fire, the pudding swells no more,
And e'en its last faint, dying, sputtering's o'er,
Quick to her wonted home, the foe now gone,
Matter returns, and occupies her throne.
That Matter no resistance will oppose,
But fir'd with saintly, Methodistic pride,
Bear like an ox the basting of his hide,
Patient as Fakir, who from high rais'd chair,
Exhorts the crowd with sanctimonious air,
And fill'd with somewhat singular a notion,
Makes of his rump a pin-ball of devotion—
That is, her vis inertiæ wholly gone,
And left poor Matter empty, and alone,
Still no assistance to their systems vain,
These idle sons of Newton will obtain,
For ne'er by strong attraction's impulse led,
Will brother Matter sister Matter wed,
As we can prove by father Nile's assistance,
When Furtum keeps the Moon at proper distance.
His systems strange, and philosophic dreams,
And long has fashion bid all ranks proclaim,
In terms of loud applause his hallow'd name,
From the Astronomer whose piercing eyes,
Beholds events dark-pictur'd in the skies,
Young bratling planets in their cradles sleeping,
And stars as yet unhatch'd in egg-shells peeping,
To Show-man wondrous, who, by feats so rare,
With magic lantern makes the children stare,
Thus when Redress from Stamp-act's dreary night,
O'er fair Columbia shed its morning light,
The cheering ray thro' all her regions ran,
And grateful incense warm'd the heart of man,
While each bright city from Bostonia's shore,
To southern Charlestown join'd in glad uproar,
Gilt with their streaming fires the shades of even,
And bade the cannon tell the news to heaven;
Fair Hebron felt inspir'd, and from a stump
Her sons, for lack of cannon, fir'd a pump.
But hence Newtonians vain no longer dare
With heaven-taught truths your sophistry compare,
Nor with your brittle arguments essay
To prove that Matter's legs, and runs away;
Why Moodus groans in such convulsive frolics,
And why Hull's physic cures all sorts of cholics,
For while I've matter left, or breath, or life,
I'll prove, should logic fail, by force of fist,
That Plenum Vacuums every where exist;
Then will you gladly own yourselves mistaken,
And give your tenets up to save your bacon.
So when proud Pharaoh, loth with Jews to part,
Froze his dark soul, and steel'd his harden'd heart,
Though frogs, and lice around the monster pour'd,
Fleas bit his back, and thunder o'er him roar'd,
Though murrain, boils, and blains attack'd his hide,
Yet nought could start him 'till his children died.
The learned gentleman, who has lately so ably defended the Newtonian system; and proved incontrovertibly, that Matter may exist with Motion.
A peculiar kind of devotees in India, who prove the fervency of their piety, by sitting upon cushions made of ten-penny nails.
A wicked wizard, who by the assistance of a magical type, in which the Planet Furtum and the Moon, occupy the principal places, pretends to surprising discoveries, and has been sentenced by a court of justice to pay an exemplary fine, as the righteous retribution of practising the black art.
| [Poems by Hopkins in] The Echo | |