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can, I think, be assigned, why a genius of more modern date should not be entitled to the same privilege, except we will absurdly and enthusiastically fancy, that time gives a value to writings, as well as to coins and medals.-It may be added also, that as Butler is not only excellent, but almost singular too, in his manner of writing, every thing of his must acquire a proportionable degree of value and curiosity.

I shall not longer detain the reader from better entertainment, by indulging my own sentiments upon these Remains; and shall rather choose to wait for the judgment of the public, than impertinently to obtrude my own. It is enough for me, that I have faithfully discharged the office of an editor, and shall leave to future critics the pleasure of criticising and remarking, approving or condemning. The notes which I have given, the reader will find to be only such as were necessary to let him into the author's meaning, by reciting and explaining some circumstances, not generally known, to which he alludes; and he cannot but observe, that many more might have been added, had I given way to a fondness for scribbling, too common upon such occasions'.

Although my author stands in need of no apology for the appearance he is going to make in the following sheets, the world may probably think, that the publisher does, for not permitting hin to do it sooner.—All that I have to say, and to persons of candour I need to say no more, is, that the delay has been owing to a bad state of health, and a consequent indisposition for a work of this nature, and not to indolence, or any selfish narrow views of my own.

In the present edition, such only are retained as are necessary to bring the reader acquainted with the several less-usual allusions.

THE

GENUINE REMAINS

от

SAMUEL BUTLER.

THE

ELEPHANT IN THE MOON1.

A LEARN'D Society of late,
The glory of a foreign state,
Agreed upon a summer's night,

To search the Moon by her own light;
To take an inventory of all
Her real estate, and personal;
And make an accurate survey
Of all her lands, and how they lay,
As true as that of Ireland, where
The sly surveyors stole a shire:
T'observe her country, how 'twas planted
With what sh' abounded most, or wanted
And make the proper'st observations
For settling of new plantations,
If the society should incline.
T'attempt so glorious a design

This was the purpose of their meeting,
For which they chose a time as fitting,
When, at the full, her radiant light
And influence too were at their height.
And now the lofty tube, the scale
With which they Heaven itself assail,
Was mounted full against the Moon,
And all stood ready to fall on,
Impatient who should have the honour
To plant an ensign first upon her,
When one, who for his deep belief
Was virtuoso then in chief,

Approv'd the most profound and wise,
To solve impossibilities,

Advancing gravely, to apply

To th' optic glass his judging eye,

Cry'd, "Strange !"-then reinforc'd his sight Against the Moon with all his might,

This poem was intended by the author for a satire upon the Royal Society, which, according to his opinion at least, ran too much, at that time,

And bent his penetrating brow,
As if he meant to gaze her through;
When all the rest began t' admire,
And, like a train, from him took fire,
Surpris'd with wonder, beforehand,
At what they did not understand,
Cry'd out, impatient to know what
The matter was they wonder'd at.

Quoth he, "Th' inhabitants o' th' Moon,
Who, when the Sun shines hot at noon,
Do live in cellars under ground,

Of eight miles deep, and eighty round,
(In which at once they fortify
Against the Sun and th' enemy)
Which they count towns and cities there,
Because their people 's civiller
Than those rude peasants that are found
To live upon the upper ground,
Call'd Privolvans, with whom they are
Perpetually in open war;

And now both armies, highly enrag'd,
Are in a bloody fight engag'd,
And many fall on both sides slain,
As by the glass 'tis clear and plain,
Look quickly then, that every one
May see the fight before 'tis done."

With that a great philosopher,
Admir'd, and famous far and near,
As one of singular invention,
But universal comprehension,
Apply'd one eye, and half a nose,
Unto the optic engine close:
For he had lately undertook
To prove, and publish in a book,

That men, whose natural eyes are out,
May, by more powerful art, be brought
To see with th' empty holes, as plain
As if their eyes were in again;

into the virtuosi taste, and a whimsical fondness for surprising and wonderful stories in natural history.

And if they chanc'd to fail of those,
To make an optic of a nose,

As clearly it may, by those that wear
But spectacles, be made appear,
By which both senses being united,
Does render them much better sighted,
This great man, having fix'd both sights
To view the formidable fights,
Observ'd his best, and then cry'd out,
"The battle's desperately fought;
The gallant Subvolvani rally,
And from their trenches make a sally
Upon the stubborn enemy,
Who now begin to rout and fly.

"These silly ranting Privolvans,
Have every summer their campaigns,
And muster, like the warlike sons
Of Rawhead and of Bloodybones,
As numerous as Soland geese
I' th' islands of the Orcades,
Courageously to make a stand,

And face their neighbours hand to hand,
Until the long'd-for winter 's come,
And then return in triumph home,
And spend the rest o' th' year in lies,
And vapouring of their victories.

From th' old Arcadians they 're believ'd
To be, before the Moon, deriv'd,
And when her orb was new created,
To people her were thence translated:
For as th' Arcadians were reputed
Of all the Grecians the most stupid,
Whom nothing in the world could bring
To civil life, but fiddling,

They still retain the antique course
And custom of their ancestors,
And always sing and fiddle to

Things of the greatest weight they do."
While thus the learn'd man entertains
Th' assembly with the Privolvans,
Another, of as great renown,
And solid judgment, in the Moon,
That understood her various soils,

And which produc'd best genet-moyles,
And in the register of fame
Had enter'd his long-living name,
After he had por'd long and hard
I' th' engine, gave a start and star'd-

Quoth he, "A stranger sight appears, Than e'er was seen in all the spheres ; A wonder more unparallel'd, Than ever mortal tube beheld; An elephant from one of those Two mighty armies is broke loose, And with the horrour of the fight Appears amaz'd, and in a fright: Look quickly, lest the sight of us Should cause the startled beast t' imboss. It is a large one, far more great Than e'er was bred in Afric yet, From which we boldly may infer, The Moon is much the fruitfuller. And since the mighty Pyrrhus brought Those living castles first, 'tis thought, Against the Romans, in the field, It may an argument be held (Arcadia being but a piece, As his dominions were, of Greece) To prove what this illustrious person Has made so noble a discourse on,

And amply satisfy'd us all

Of the Privolvans' original.
That elephants are in the Moon,
Though we had now discover'd none,
Is easily made manifest,

Since from the greatest to the least,
All other stars and constellations
Have cattle of all sorts of nations,
And Heaven, like a Tartar's hord,
With great and numerous droves is stor❜d:
And if the Moon produce by nature,

A people of so vast a stature,

'Tis consequent she should bring forth
Far greater beasts too, than the Earth;
(As by the best accounts appears
Of all our great'st discoverers)

And that those monstrous creatures there
Are not such rarities as here."

Meanwhile the rest had had a sight Of all particulars o' th' fight, And every man, with equal care, Perus'd of th' elephant his share, Proud of his interest in the glory Of so miraculous a story; When one, who for his excellence In heightening words and shadowing sense, And magnifying all he writ With curious microscopic wit, Was magnify'd himself no less In home and foreign colleges, Began, transported with the twang Of his own trillo, thus t' harangue.

"Most excellent and virtuous friends, This great discovery makes amends For all our unsuccessful pains, And lost expense of time and brains: For, by this sole phenomenon, We 've gotten ground upon the Moon, And gain'd a pass, to hold dispute With all the planets that stand out; To carry this most virtuous war Home to the door of every star, And plant th' artillery of our tubes Against their proudest magnitudes; To stretch our victories beyond Th' extent of planetary ground, And fix our engines, and our ensigns, Upon the fix'd stars' vast dimensions, (Which Archimede, so long ago, Durst not presume to wish to do) And prove if they are other suns, As some have held opinions,

Or windows in the Empyreum,

From whence those bright effluvias come
Like flames of fire, (as others guess)
That shine i' th' mouths of furnaces.
Nor is this all we have achiev'd,
But more, henceforth to be believ'd,
And have no more our best designs,
Because they're ours, believ'd ill signs.
T' out-throw, and stretch, and to enlarge,
Shall now no more be laid t' our charge;
Nor shall our ablest virtuosis
Prove arguments for coffee-houses;
Nor those devices, that are laid
Too truly on us, nor those made
Hereafter, gain belief among
Our strictest judges, right or wrong;
Nor shall our past misfortunes more
Be charg'd upon the ancient score;

No more our making old dogs young

Make men suspect us still i' th' wrong;

Nor new-invented chariots draw
The boys to course us without law;
Nor putting pigs t' a bitch to nurse,
To turn them into mongrel curs,

Make them suspect our sculls are brittle,
And hold too much wit, or too little;
Nor shall our speculations, whether
An elder-stick will save the leather
Of schoolboys' breeches from the rod,
Make all we do appear as odd.
This one discovery 's enough
To take all former scandals off-
But since the world 's incredulous
Of all our scrutinies, and us,
And with a prejudice prevents
Our best and worst experiments,
(As if they were destin'd to miscarry,
In consort try'd, or solitary)
And since it is uncertain when
Such wonders will occur again,
Let us as cautiously contrive
To draw an exact narrative

Of what we every one can swear

Our eyes themselves have seen appear,
That, when we publish the account,
We all may take our oaths upon 't."
This said, they all with one consent
Agreed to draw up th' instrument,
And, for the general satisfaction,
To print it in the next Transaction.
But whilst the chiefs were drawing up
This strange memoir o' th' telescope,
One, peeping in the tube by chance,
Beheld the elephant advance,
And from the west side of the Moon
To th' east was in a moment gone.
This being related, gave a stop
To what the rest were drawing up;
And every man, amaz'd anew
How it could possibly be true,
That any beast should run a race
So monstrous, in so short a space,
Resolv'd, howe'er, to make it good,
At least as possible as he could,
And rather his own eyes condemn,
Than question what he 'ad seen with them.
While all were thus resolv'd, a man
Of great renown there thus began-
""Tis strange, I grant! but who can say
What cannot be, what can, and may?
Especially at so hugely vast

A distance as this wonder 's plac'd,
Where the least errour of the sight
May show things false, but never right;
Nor can we try them, so far off,
By any sublunary proof:

For who can say, that Nature there.
Has the same laws she goes by here?
Nor is it like she has infus'd,
In every species there produc'd,
The same efforts she does confer.
Upon the same productions here,

Since those with us, of several nations,
Have such prodigious variations,
And she affects so much to use
Variety in all she does.

Hence may b' inferr'd, that, though I grant
We 'ave seen i' th' Moon an elephant,

That elephant may differ so

From those upon the Earth below,
Both in his bulk, and force, and speed,
As being of a different breed,

That though our own are but slow-pac'd,
Theirs there may fly, or run as fast,
And yet be elephants, no less
Than those of Indian pedigrees."

This said, another of great worth,
Fam'd for his learned works put forth,
Look'd wise, then said-" All this is true,
And learnedly observ'd by you:
But there's another reason for 't,
That falls but very little short
Of mathematic. demonstration,
Upon an accurate calculation,

And that is-As the Earth and Moon
Do both move contrary upon
Their axes, the rapidity

Of both their motions cannot be
But so prodigiously fast,

That vaster spaces may be past
In less time than the beast has gone,
Though he 'ad no motion of his own,
Which we can take no measure of,
As you have clear'd by learned proof.
This granted, we may boldly thence
Lay claim t' a nobler inference,
And make this great phenomenon
(Were there no other) serve alone
To clear the grand hypothesis
Of th' motion of the Earth from this."
With this they all were satisfy'd,
As men are wont o' th' biass'd side,
Applauded the profound dispute,
And grew more gay and resolute,
By having overcome all doubt,
Than if it never had fall'n out;
And, to complete their narrative,
Agreed t' insert this strange retrieve.

But while they were diverted all
With wording the memorial,
The footboys, for diversion too,
As having nothing else to do,
Seeing the telescope at leisure,
Turn'd virtuosi for their pleasure;
Began to gaze upon the Moon,
As those they waited on had done.
With monkeys' ingenuity,

That love to practise what they see;
When one, whose turn it was to peep,
Saw something in the engine creep,
And, viewing well, discover'd more
Than all the learn'd had done before.
Quoth he, "A little thing is slunk
Into the long star-gazing trunk,
And now is gotten down so nigh,
I have him just against mine eye."
This being overheard by one
Who was not so far overgrown
In any virtuous speculation,
To judge with mere imagination,
Immediately he made a guess
At solving all appearances,
A way far more significant
Than all their hints of th' elephant,
And found, upon a second view,
His own hypothesis most true;
For he had scarce apply'd his ey:
To th' engine, but immediately

He found a mouse was gotten in
The hollow tube, and, shut between
The two glass windows in restraint,
Was'swell'd into an elephant,
And prov'd the virtuous occasion
Of all this learned dissertation:
And, as a mountain heretofore

Was great with child, they say, and bore
A silly mouse; this mouse, as strange,
Brought forth a mountain in exchange.
Meanwhile the rest in consultation
Had penn'd the wonderful narration,
And set their hands, and seals, and wit,
T'attest the truth of what they 'ad writ,
When this accurs'd phenomenon
Confounded all they 'ad said or done:
For 'twas no sooner hinted at,

But they all were in a tumult strait,
More furiously enrag'd by far,

Than those that in the Moon made war,
To find so admirable a hint,

When they had all agreed t' have seen 't,
And were engag'd to make it out,
Obstructed with a paltry doubt:
When one, whose task was to determine,
And solve th' appearances of vermin,
Who 'ad made profound discoveries
In frogs, and toads, and rats, and mice,
(Though not so curious, 'tis true,
As many a wise rat-catcher knew)
After he had with signs made way
For something great he had to say;
"This disquisition

Is, half of it, in my discission 2;
For though the elephant, as beast,
Belongs of right to all the rest,

The mouse, being but a vermin, none
Has title to but I alone;

And therefore hope I may be heard,
In my own province, with regard.

"It is no wonder we 're cry'd down,
And made the talk of all the town,
That rants and swears, for all our great
Attempts, we have done nothing yet,
If every one have leave to doubt,

When some great secret 's half made out;
And, 'cause perhaps it is not true,
Obstruct, and ruin all we do.
As no great act was ever done,
Nor ever can, with truth alone,
If nothing else but truth w' allow,
'Tis no great matter what we do:
For Truth is too reserv'd, and nice,
Tappear in mix'd societies;
Delights in solitary abodes,
And never shows herself in crowds;
A sullen little thing, below
All matters of pretence and show;
That deal in novelty and change,
Not of things true, but rare and strange,
To treat the world with what is fit
And proper to its natural wit;
The world, that never sets esteem
On what things are, but what they seem,
And, if they be not strange and new,
They 're ne'er the better for being true.
For what has mankind gain'd by knowing
His little truth, but his undoing,

2 Sic Orig.

Which wisely was by Nature hidden,
And only for his good forbidden?
And therefore with great prudence does
The world still strive to keep it close;
For if all secret truths were known,
Who would not be once more undone?
For truth has always danger in 't,
And here, perhaps, may cross some hint
We have already agreed upon,
And vainly frustrate all we 'ave done,
Only to make new work for Stubs,
And all the academic clubs.

How much, then, ought we have a care,
That no man know above his share,
Nor dare to understand, henceforth,
More than his contribution's worth?
That those who 'ave purchas'd of the college
A share, or half a share, of knowledge,
And brought in none, but spent repute,
Should not b' admitted to dispute,
Nor any man pretend to know
More than his dividend come to?
For partners have been always known
To cheat their public interest prone;
And if we do not look to ours,
'Tis sure to run the self-same course."

This said, the whole assembly allow'd
The doctrine to be right and good,
And, from the truth of what they 'ad heard,
Resolv'd to give truth no regard,

But what was for their turn to vouch,
And either find or make it such:
That 't was more noble to create
Things like truth, out of strong conceit,
Than with vexatious pains and doubt
To find, or think t' have found, her out.
This being resolv'd, they, one by one,
Review'd the tube, the mouse, and Moon;
But still the narrower they pry'd,
The more they were unsatisfy'd;
In no one thing they saw agreeing,
As if they 'ad several faiths of seeing.
Some swore, upon a second view,
That all they 'ad seen before was true,
And that they never would recant
One syllable of th' elephant;
Avow'd his snout could be no mouse's,
But a true elephant's proboscis.
Others began to doubt and waver,
Uncertain which o' th' two to favour,
And knew not whether to espouse
The cause of th' elephant or mouse.
Some held no way so orthodox
To try it, as the ballot-box,
And, like the nation's patriots,
To find, or make, the truth by votes:
Others conceiv'd it much more fit
Tunmount the tube, and open it,
And, for their private satisfaction,
To re-examine the transaction,
And after explicate the rest,
As they should find cause for the best.
To this, as th' only expedient,
The whole assembly gave consent;
But, ere the tube was half let down,
It clear'd the first phenomenon:
For, at the end, prodigious swarms
Of flies and gnats, Fke men in arms,
Had all past muster, by mischance,
Both for the Sub- and Privolvans.

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