PHILOSOPHY IN SPORT
MADE
SCIENCE IN EARNEST;
BEING
AN ATTEMPT TO ILLUSTRATE THE FIRST PRINCIPLES
OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY
BY THE AID OF
POPULAR TOYS AND SPORTS.
[Illustration: Printer’s logo]
FOURTH EDITION,
WITH CONSIDERABLE ADDITIONS.
LONDON:
HARVEY AND DARTON, GRACECHURCH-STREET;
AND HIGHLEY, FLEET-STREET.
1839.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO
MISS MARIA EDGEWORTH.
MADAM,
To whom can a work which professes to blend amusement with instruction,
be dedicated with so much propriety, as to one, whose numerous writings
have satisfactorily demonstrated the practicability and value of such a
union;--to one, who has stripped Romance of her meretricious trappings,
and converted her theatre into a temple worthy of Minerva? Justly has
it been observed, that to the magic pens of Madame D’Arblay and
yourself we are indebted for having the Novel restored to its
consequence, and, therefore, to its usefulness; and I may be allowed to
add, that your Harry and Lucy has shown how profitably, and agreeably,
the machinery of fiction may be worked for the dissemination of truth.
That a life which has been so honourable to yourself, and so
serviceable to the commonwealth, may be long extended, and deservedly
enjoyed, is the fervent wish of
THE AUTHOR.
_London,
February 1839._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO THE READER.
--------------
Tell me, gentle Reader, whether thou hast not heard of the box of
Pandora, which was no sooner opened by the unhappy Epimetheus, than it
gave flight to a troop of malevolent spirits, which have ever since
tormented the human race.--Behold!--I here present you with a magic
casket, containing a GENIUS alone capable of counteracting their
direful spells. Thou mayest, perhaps, say that its aspect but ill
accords with the richness of its promised treasure; so appeared the
copper vessel found by the fisherman, as related in the Arabian tale;
but, remember, that no sooner had he broken its mystic seal, than the
imprisoned genius spread itself over the ocean and raised its giant
limbs above the clouds. But this was an evil and treacherous spirit;
mine is as benevolent as he is mighty, and seeks communion with our
race for no other object than to render mortals virtuous and happy. To
be plain, for you must already, my young friends, have unriddled my
allegory, his name is PHILOSOPHY.
In your progress through life, be not so vain as to believe that you
will escape the evils with which its path is beset. Arm yourselves,
therefore, with the talisman that can, at once, deprive adversity of
its sting, and prosperity of its dangers; for such, believe me, is the
rare privilege of philosophy.
I must now take leave of you, for a short time, in order that I may
address a few words to your parents and preceptors; but, as I have no
plot to abridge your liberties, or lengthen your hours of study, you
may listen to my address without alarm, and to my plan without
suspicion. Imagine not, however, that I shall recommend the dismissal
of the cane, or the whip; on the contrary, I shall insist upon them as
necessary and indispensable instruments for the accomplishment of my
design. But the method of applying them will be changed; with the one I
shall construct the bow of the kite, with the other I shall spin the
top.
The object of the present work is to inculcate that early love of
science which can never be derived from the sterner productions. Youth
is naturally addicted to amusement, and in this item his expenditure
too often exceeds his allotted income. I have, therefore, taken the
liberty to draw a draft upon Philosophy, with the full assurance that
it will be gratefully repaid, with compound interest, ten years after
date. But to be serious; those who superintend the education of youth
should be apprised of the great importance of the first impressions.
Rousseau has said, that the seeds of future vices or virtues are more
frequently sown by the mother than the tutor; thereby intimating, that
the characters of men are often determined by the earliest impressions;
and, of so much moment did Quintillian regard this truth, that he
recommends to us the example of Philip, who did not suffer any other
than Aristotle to teach Alexander to read. In like manner those who do
not commence their study of nature at an early season, will afterwards
have many unnecessary obstacles to encounter. The difficulty of
comprehending the principles of Natural Philosophy frequently arises
from their being at variance with those false ideas which early
associations have impressed upon the mind; the first years of study
are, therefore, expended in _un_learning, and in clearing away the
weeds, which would never have taken root in a properly cultivated soil.
Writers on practical education have repeatedly advocated the advantages
of the plan I am so anxious to enforce; but, strange to say, it is only
within a few years that any works have appeared at all calculated to
afford the necessary assistance. In short, previous to the labours of
Mrs. Marcet and Miss Edgeworth, the productions published for the
purpose of juvenile instruction may be justly charged with the grossest
errors; and must have proved as destructive to the mind of the young
reader, as the book presented by the physician Douban is said to have
been to the Grecian king, who, as the Arabian tale relates, imbibed
fresh poison as he turned over each leaf, until he fell lifeless in the
presence of his courtiers; or, to give another illustration, as
mischievous as the magic volume of Michael Scott, which, as Dempster
informs us, could not be opened without the danger of invoking some
malignant fiend by the operation. How infinitely superior in execution
and purpose are the juvenile works of the present century!--to borrow a
metaphor from Coleridge, they may be truly said to resemble a
collection of mirrors set in the same frame, each having its own focus
of knowledge, yet all capable of converging to one point.
Allow me, friendly Reader, before I conclude my address, to say a few
words upon the plan and execution of the work before you. It is not
intended to supersede or clash with any of the elementary treatises to
which I have alluded; indeed its plan is so peculiar, that I apprehend
such a charge cannot be brought against it. The author originally
composed it for the exclusive use of his children, and would certainly
never have consigned it to the press, but at the earnest solicitations
of those friends upon whose judgment he places the utmost reliance. Let
this be received as an answer to those, who, believing that they can
recognise the writer, may be induced to exclaim with Menedemus in
Terence,--“_Tantumne est ab re tuâ otii tibi aliena ut cures, eaque
nihil quæ ad te attinent?_” [1]
It is scarcely necessary to offer any apology for the conversational
plan of instruction; the success of Mrs. Marcet’s dialogues has placed
its value beyond dispute. It may, however, be observed, that this
species of composition may be executed in two different ways, either as
direct conversation, where none but the speakers appear, which is the
method used by Plato; or as the recital of a conversation, where the
author himself appears, and gives an account of what passed in
discourse, which is the plan generally adopted by Cicero. The reader is
aware, that Mrs. Marcet, in her “Conversations on Philosophy,” has
adopted the former, while Miss Edgeworth, in her “Harry and Lucy,” has
preferred the latter method. In composing the present work I have
followed the plan of the last-mentioned authoress. Its advantages over
the more direct conversational style appear to consist in allowing
occasional remarks, which come more aptly from the author than from any
of the characters engaged in the dialogue.
If scientific dialogues are less popular in our times than they were in
ancient days, it must be attributed to the frigid and insipid manner in
which they have too frequently been executed; if we except the mere
external forms of conversation, and that one character is made to
speak, and the other to answer, they are altogether the same as if the
author himself spoke throughout the whole, instead of amusing with a
varied style of conversation, and with a display of consistent and
well-supported characters. The introduction of a person of humour, to
enliven the discourse, is sanctioned by the highest authority. Cæsar is
thus introduced by Cicero, and Cynthio by Addison. In the introduction
of Mr. Twaddleton and Major Snapwell, I am well aware of the criticisms
to which I am exposed; I have exercised my fancy with a freedom and
latitude, for which, probably, there is not any precedent in a
scientific work. I have even ventured so far to deviate from the beaten
track as to skirmish upon the frontiers of the Novelist, and to bring
off captive some of the artillery of Romance; but if, by so doing, I
have enhanced the interest of my work, and furthered the accomplishment
of its object, let me intreat that mere novelty may not be urged to its
disparagement. The antiquarian Vicar, however, will, I trust, meet with
cordial reception from the classical student. As to Ned Hopkins,
although he may not bear a comparison with William Summers, the fool of
Henry VIII.--or with Richard Tarlton, who “_undumpished_ Queen
Elizabeth at his pleasure;” or with Archibald Armstrong (vulgo
_Archee_) Jester to Charles,--yet I will maintain, in spite of the
Vicar’s censure, that he is a right merry fellow, and to the Major, and
consequently to our history, a most important accessary.
If it be argued that several of my comic representations are
calculated, like seasoning, to stimulate the palate of the
novel-reader, rather than to nourish the minds of the younger class,
for whom the work was written, I might, were I so disposed, plead
common usage; for does not the director of a juvenile fête courteously
introduce a few piquant dishes, for the entertainment of those elder
personages who may attend in the character of a chaperone? You surely
could not deny me the full benefit of such a precedent; and so, Gentle
Reader, I bid thee--Farewell!
-----
Footnote 1:
“Have you such leisure from your own affairs
To think of those that don’t concern you?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I. Page 1
Tom Seymour’s arrival from school--Description of Overton Lodge--The
Horologe of Flora--A geological temple--A sketch of the person and
character of the Reverend Peter Twaddleton--Mr. Seymour engages to
furnish his son with any toy, the philosophy of which he is able to
explain--Mr. Twaddleton’s arrival, and reception--His remonstrances
against the diffusion of science amongst the village mechanics--A
dialogue between Mr. Seymour and the Vicar, which some will dislike,
many approve of, and all laugh at--The plan of teaching philosophy by
the aid of toys developed and discussed--Mr. Twaddleton’s objections
answered--He relents, and engages to furnish an antiquarian history of
the various toys and sports
CHAPTER II. Page 25
On gravitation--Weight--The velocity of falling bodies--At what
altitude a body would lose its gravity--The Tower of Babel--The known
velocity of sound affords the means of calculating distances--An
excursion to Overton well--An experiment to ascertain its depth--A
visit to the vicarage--The magic gallery--Return to the lodge
CHAPTER III. Page 48
Motion--absolute and relative--Uniform, accelerated, and retarded
velocity--The times of ascent and descent are equal--Vis
inertiæ--Friction--Action and reaction are equal and in opposite
directions--Momentum defined and explained--The three great laws of
motion
CHAPTER IV. Page 65
A sad accident turned to a good account--One example worth a hundred
precepts--The centres of magnitude and gravity--The point of
suspension--The line of direction--The stability of bodies, and upon
what it depends--Method of finding the centre of gravity of a body--The
art of the balancer explained and illustrated--Various balancing toys
CHAPTER V. Page 85
The Chinese tumblers, illustrating the joint effects of change in the
centre of gravity of a body, and of momentum--Mr. Twaddleton’s
arrival after a series of adventures--The dancing balls--The
pea-shooter--A figure that dances on a fountain--The flying
witch--Elasticity--Springs--The game of “Ricochet,” or duck and
drake--The rebounding ball--Animals that leap by means of an elastic
apparatus--A new species of puffing, by which the Vicar is made to
change countenance
CHAPTER VI. Page 102
The arrival of Major Snapwell, and the bustle it occasioned--The
Vicar’s interview with the stranger--A curious discussion--A word or
two addressed to fox-hunters--Verbal corruptions--Some geometrical
definitions--An enigma
CHAPTER VII. Page 117
Compound forces--The composition and resolution of motion--Rotatory
motion--The revolving watch-glass--The sling--The centrifugal and
centripetal forces--Theory of projectiles--A geological conversation
between Mr. Seymour and the Vicar
CHAPTER VIII. Page 136
The subject of rotatory motion continued--A ball, by having a peculiar
spinning motion imparted to it, may be made to stop short, or to
retrograde, though it meets not with any apparent obstacle--The
rectilinear path of a spherical body influenced by its rotatory
motion--Bilboquet, or cup and ball--The joint forces which enable the
balancer to throw up and catch his balls on the full gallop--The
hoop--The centre of percussion--The whip and peg-top--Historical
notices--The power by which the top is enabled to sustain its vertical
position during the act of spinning--The sleeping of the top
explained--The force which enables it to rise from an oblique into a
vertical position--Its gyration
CHAPTER IX. Page 151
Trap and ball--Gifts from the Vicar--An antiquarian history of the
ball--The see-saw--The mechanical powers--The swing--The doctrine of
oscillation--Galileo’s discovery--The pendulum--An interesting
letter--Mr. Seymour and the Vicar visit Major Snapwell
CHAPTER X. Page 167
Marbles--Antiquity of the game--Method of manufacturing
them--Ring-taw--Mr. Seymour, the Vicar, and Tom, enter the lists--The
defeat of the two former combatants; the triumph of the latter--A
philosophical explanation of the several movements--The subject of
reflected motion illustrated--The Vicar’s apology, of which many grave
personages will approve
CHAPTER XI. Page 180
Mr. Seymour and his family visit the Major at Osterley Park--A
controversy between the Vicar and the Major--The Sucker--Cohesive
attraction--Pressure of the atmosphere--Meaning of the term
suction--Certain animals attach themselves to rocks by a contrivance
analogous to the sucker--The Limpet--The Walrus--Locomotive organs of
the house-fly--A terrible accident--A scene in the village, in which
Dr. Doseall figures as a principal performer--The Vicar’s sensible
remonstrance--The density of the atmosphere at different
altitudes--Inelasticity of water--Bottle-imps--The Barometer--The
pop-gun--The air-gun--An antiquarian discussion, in which the Vicar and
Major Snapwell greatly distinguish themselves
CHAPTER XII. Page 202
The soap-bubble--The squirt--The bellows; an explanation of their
several parts--By whom the instrument was invented--The sucking and
lifting, or common pump
CHAPTER XIII. Page 215
The kite--Its construction--The tail--An author’s meditations among the
catacombs of Paternoster-row--Works in their winding sheets--How Mr.
Seymour strung puns as he strung the kite’s tail--The Vicar’s
dismay--The weather, with the hopes and fears which it alternately
inspired--Kites constructed in various shapes--The figure usually
adopted to be preferred--The flight of the kite--A philosophical
disquisition upon the forces by which its ascent is accomplished--The
tail--A discourse on the theory of flying--The structure and action of
the wings of birds--A series of kites on one string--A kite
carriage--The messenger--The causes and velocity of wind explained
CHAPTER XIV. Page 247
A short discourse--The shuttlecock--The solution of two problems
connected with its flight--The windmill--The smoke-jack--A toy
constructed on the same principle--The bow and arrow--Archery--The
arrival of Isabella Villers
CHAPTER XV. Page 262
A curious dialogue between the Vicar and Miss Villers--An enigma--The
riddles of Samson and Cleobulus--Sound--How propagated by aërial
vibration--Music--A learned discussion touching the superior powers of
ancient music--The magic of music, a game which the author believes is
here described for the first time--Adventures by moonlight--Spirits of
the valley
CHAPTER XVI. Page 291
Origin of the crescent as the Turkish ensign--Apparitions dispelled by
philosophy--Fairy rings--Musical instruments classed under three
divisions--Mixed instruments--Theory of wind instruments--The Jew’s
harp--The statue of Memnon--An interesting experiment--The flute--The
whiz-gig, &c.--Echoes--The whispering gallery in the dome of St.
Paul’s--The speaking trumpet--The invisible girl--Other acoustic
amusements--Creaking shoes--Haunted rooms
CHAPTER XVII. Page 319
An interesting communication, from which the reader may learn that the
most important events are not those which absorb the greatest portion
of time in their recital--Major Snapwell communicates to Mr. Seymour
and the Vicar, his determination to celebrate the marriage of his
nephew by a fête at Osterley Park--An antiquarian discussion of grave
importance--An interview with Ned Hopkins, during which the wit
displayed both cunning and humour--The Thaumatrope--Its improved
construction--Philosophy of its action--Another optical toy--The nature
of optical spectra illustrated and explained--The spectral cross of
Constantine
CHAPTER XVIII. Page 337
The Thaumatrope--A great improvement effected in its
construction--Another toy upon the same optical principle
CHAPTER XIX. Page 364
Preparations for the approaching fête--The procession of the bridal
party to Osterley Park--The Major and his visitors superintend the
arrangements in the meadow--The curious discussion which took place on
that occasion--The origin of the swing--Merry-andrews--Trajetours,
&c.--The dinner at the hall--The learned controversy which was
maintained with respect to the game of Chess
CHAPTER XX. Page 383
The arrival of the populace at Osterley Park--The commencement of
the festivities--Dancing on the tight and slack
rope--Balancing--Conjuring--Optical illusions--Various
games--Penthalum--The banquet--Grand display of
fire-works--Conclusion
APPENDIX--Additional Notes Page 407
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PHILOSOPHY IN SPORT.
CHAPTER I.
_Tom Seymour’s arrival from school.--Description of Overton
Lodge.--The Horologe of Flora.--A geological temple.--A
sketch of the person and character of the Reverend Peter
Twaddleton.--Mr. Seymour engages to furnish his son with any
toy, the philosophy of which he is able to explain.--Mr.
Twaddleton’s arrival and reception.--His remonstrances
against the diffusion of science amongst the village
mechanics.--A dialogue between Mr. Seymour and the vicar,
which some will dislike, many approve of, and all laugh
at.--The plan of teaching philosophy by the aid of toys
developed and discussed.--Mr. Twaddleton’s objections
answered.--He relents, and engages to furnish an antiquarian
history of the various toys and sports._
The summer recess of Mr. Pearson’s school was not more anxiously
anticipated by the scholars than it was by the numerous family of
Seymour, who, at the commencement of the year, had parted from a
beloved son and brother for the first time. As the season of relaxation
approached, so did the inmates of Overton Lodge (for such was the name
of Mr. Seymour’s seat) betray increasing impatience for its arrival.
The three elder sisters, Louisa, Fanny, and Rosa, had been engaged for
several days in arranging the little study which their brother Tom had
usually occupied. His books were carefully replaced on their shelves,
and bunches of roses and jasmines, which the affectionate girls had
culled from the finest trees in the garden, were tastefully dispersed
through the apartment; the festoons of blue ribbons, with which they
were entwined, at once announced themselves as the work of graceful
hands, impelled by light hearts; and every flower might be said to
reflect from its glowing petals the smiles with which it had been
collected and arranged. At length the happy day arrived; a post-chaise
drew up to the front gate, and Tom was once again folded in the arms of
his affectionate and delighted parents. The little group surrounded
their beloved brother, and welcomed his return with all the warmth and
artlessness of juvenile sincerity. “Well,” said Mr. Seymour, “if the
improvement of your mind corresponds with that of your looks, I shall
indeed have reason to congratulate myself upon the choice of your
school. But have you brought me any letter from Mr. Pearson?” “I have,”
replied Tom, who presented his father with a note from his master, in
which he had commented, in high terms of commendation, not only upon
Tom’s general conduct, but upon the rapid progress which he had made in
his classical studies.
“My dearest boy,” exclaimed the delighted father, “I am more than
repaid for the many anxious moments which I have passed on your
account. I find that your conduct has given the highest satisfaction to
your master; and that your good-nature, generosity, and, above all,
your strict adherence to truth, have ensured the love and esteem of
your school-fellows.” This gratifying report brought tears of joy into
the eyes of Mrs. Seymour; Tom’s cheek glowed with the feeling of
conscious merit; and the sisters interchanged looks of mutual
satisfaction. Can there be an incentive to industry and virtuous
conduct so powerful as the exhilarating smiles of approbation which the
school-boy receives from an affectionate parent? Tom would not have
exchanged his feelings for all the world, and he internally vowed that
he would never deviate from a course that had been productive of so
much happiness.
“But come,” exclaimed Mr. Seymour, “let us all retire into the library.
I am sure that our dear fellow will be glad of some refreshment after
his journey.”
We shall here leave the family circle to the undisturbed enjoyment of
their domestic banquet, and invite the reader to accompany us in a
stroll about the grounds of this beautiful and secluded retreat.
We are amongst those who believe that the habits and character of a
family may be as easily discovered from the rural taste displayed in
the grounds which surround their habitation, as by any examination of
the prominences on their heads, or of the lineaments in their faces.
How vividly is the decline of an ancient race depicted by the chilling
desolation which reigns around the mansion, and by the rank weed which
insolently triumphs over its fading splendour; and how equally
expressive of the peaceful and contented industry of the thriving
cottager, is the well cultivated patch which adjoins the humble
dwelling, around whose rustic porch the luxuriant lilac clusters, or
the aspiring woodbine twines its green tendrils and sweetly-scented
blossoms! In like manner did the elegantly disposed grounds of Overton
Lodge at once announce the classic taste and fostering presence of a
refined and highly cultivated family.
The house, which was in the Ionic style of architecture, was situated
on the declivity of a hill, so that the verdant lawn which was spread
before its southern front, after retaining its level for a short
distance, gently sloped to the vale beneath, and was terminated by a
luxuriant shrubbery, over which the eye commanded a range of fair
enclosure, beautified by an irregularly undulating surface, and
interspersed with rich masses of wood. The uniformity of the lawn was
broken by occasional clumps of flowering shrubs, so artfully selected
and arranged, as to afford all the varied charms of contrast; while,
here and there, a lofty elm flung its gigantic arms over the sward
beneath, and cast a deep shade, which enabled the inhabitants of the
Lodge to enjoy the air, even during the heat of a meridian sun. The
shrubbery, which occupied a considerable portion of the valley,
stretched for some distance up the western part of the hill; and, could
Shenstone have wandered through its winding paths and deep recesses,
his favourite Leasowes might have suffered from a comparison. Here were
mingled shrubs of every varied dye; the elegant foliage of white and
scarlet acacias was blended with the dark-green-leaved chestnut; and
the stately branches of the oak were relieved by the gracefully
pendulous boughs of the beech. At irregular intervals, the paths
expanded into verdant glades, in each of which the bust of some
departed poet or philosopher announced the genius to which they were
severally consecrated. From a description of one or two of these
sequestered spots, the reader will readily conceive the taste displayed
in those upon which our limits will not allow us to dwell.
After winding, for some distance, through a path so closely interwoven
with shrubs and trees, that scarcely a sunbeam could struggle through
the foliage, a gleam of light burst through the gloom, and displayed a
beautiful marble figure, which had been executed by a Roman artist,
representing Flora in the act of being attired by Spring. It was placed
in the centre of the expanse formed by the retiring trees, and at its
base were flowering, at measured intervals, a variety of those plants
to which Linnæus has given the name of _Equinoctial flowers_, since
they open and close at certain and exact hours of the day, and thus by
proper arrangement constitute the HOROLOGE OF FLORA,(1)[2] or Nature’s
time-piece. It had been constructed, under the direction of her mother,
by Louisa Seymour. The hour of the day at which each plant opened, was
represented by an appropriate figure of nicely trimmed box; and these,
being arranged in a circle, not only fulfilled the duty, but exhibited
the appearance of a dial.
-----
Footnote 2:
These figures refer to the additional notes at the end of the work.
-----
From this retreat several winding paths threaded their mazy way through
the deep recesses of the wood; and the wanderer, quitting for a while
the blaze of day, was refreshed by the subdued light which everywhere
pervaded the avenue, except where the hand of taste had, here and
there, turned aside the boughs, and opened a vista to bring the village
spire into view, or to gladden the sight by a rich prospect of the
distant landscape. After having descended for some way, the path,
losing its inclined direction, proceeded on a level, and thus announced
to the stranger his arrival at the bottom of the valley. What a rich
display of woodland scenery was suddenly presented to his view! A rocky
glen, in which large masses of sandstone were grouped with picturesque
boldness, terminated the path, and formed an area wherein he might gaze
on the mighty sylvan amphitheatre, which gradually rose to a towering
height above him, and seemed to interpose an insuperable barrier
between the solitude of this sequestered spot and the busy haunts of
men; not a sound assailed the ear, save the murmur of the summer
breeze, as it swept the trembling foliage, or the brawling of a small
mountain stream, which gushed from the rock, and, like an angry chit,
fretted and fumed as it encountered the obstacles that had been raised
by its own impetuosity. This was the favourite retreat of Mr. Seymour,
and he had dedicated it to the genius of geology; here had he erected a
temple to the memory of Werner, and every pillar and ornament bore
testimony to the refined taste of its architect. It consisted of a
dome, constructed of innumerable shells and corallines, and surmounted
by a marble figure of Atlas, bearing the globe on his shoulders, upon
which the name of WERNER was inscribed. The dome was supported by
twelve pillars of so singular and beautiful a construction as to merit
a particular description: the Corinthian capital of each was of
Pentelican marble; the column consisted of a spiral of about six inches
in breadth, which wound round a central shaft of not more than two
inches in diameter; upon this spiral were placed specimens of various
rocks, of such masses as to fill up the outline, and to present to the
eye the appearance of a substantial and well-proportioned pillar. These
specimens were arranged in an order corresponding with their
acknowledged geological relations; thus, the _Diluvial_ productions
occupied the higher compartments; the _Primitive_ strata, the lower
ones; and the _Secondary_ and _Transition_ series found an intermediate
place. The tessellated floor presented the different varieties of
marble, so artfully interspersed as to afford a most harmonious
combination; the _Unicoloured, variegated, Madreporic_, the
_Lumachella, Cipolino_, and _Breccia_ marbles, were each represented by
a characteristic and well-defined specimen. The alcoved ceiling was
studded with _Rock Crystal_, calcareous _Stalactites_, and beautiful
_Calcedonies_. A group of figures in _basso relievo_ adorned the wall
which enclosed about a third part of the interior of the temple, and
its subject gave evidence of the Wernerian devotion of Mr. Seymour; for
it represented a contest between Pluto and Neptune, in which the watery
god was seen in the act of wresting the burning torch from the hand of
his adversary, in order to quench it in the ocean. Mr. Seymour had
studied in the school of Freyburg, under the auspices of its celebrated
professor; and, like all the pupils of Werner, he pertinaciously
maintained the aqueous origin of our strata. But let us return to the
happy party at the Lodge, whom the reader will remember we left at
their repast. This having been concluded, and all those various
subjects discussed, and questions answered, which the school-boy, who
has ever felt the satisfaction of returning home for the holidays, will
more easily conceive than we can describe, Tom enquired of his father,
whether his old friend, Mr. Twaddleton, the Vicar of Overton, was well,
and at the Parsonage. “He is quite well,” replied Mr. Seymour, “and so
anxious to see you, that he has paid several visits, during the
morning, to enquire whether you had arrived. Depend upon it, that many
hours will not elapse before you see him.”
In that wish did Tom and the whole juvenile party heartily concur; for
the vicar, notwithstanding his oddities, was the most affectionate
creature in existence, and never was he more truly happy than when
contributing to the innocent amusement of his little “_playmates_,” as
he used to call Tom and his sisters.
It may be here necessary to present the reader with a short sketch of
the character of a person, who will be hereafter found to perform a
prominent part in the little drama of Overton Lodge.
The Rev. Peter Twaddleton, Master of Arts, and Fellow of the Society of
Antiquaries, for we must introduce him in due form, was about fifty-two
years of age, twenty of which he had spent at Cambridge, as a resident
Fellow of Jesus College. He had not possessed the vicarage of Overton
above eight or nine years; and, although its value never exceeded a
hundred and eighty pounds a year, so limited were his wants, and so
frugal his habits, that he generally contrived to save a considerable
sum out of his income, in order that he might devote it to purposes of
charity and benevolence: his charity, however, was not merely of the
hand, but of the heart; distress was unknown in his village; he fed the
hungry, nursed the sick, and cheered the unfortunate; his long
collegiate residence had imparted to his mind several peculiar traits,
and a certain stiffness of address and quaintness of manner which at
once distinguish the recluse from the man of the world; in short, as
Shakspeare expresses it, “_he was not hackneyed in the ways of men_.”
His face was certainly the very reverse to everything that could be
considered “good-looking,” and yet, when he smiled, there was an
animation that redeemed the irregularity of his angular features; so
benevolent was the expression of his countenance, that it was
impossible not to feel that sentiment of respect and admiration which
the presence of a superior person is wont to inspire; but his
superiority was rather that of the heart than of the head; not that we
would insinuate any deficiency in intellect, but that his moral
excellencies were so transcendent as to throw into the shade all those
mental qualities which he possessed in common with the world. He
entertained a singular aversion to the mathematics, a prejudice which
we are inclined to refer to his disappointment in the senate-house;
for, although he was known at Cambridge as one of those “pale beings in
spectacles and cotton stockings,” commonly called “_reading men_,” yet,
after all his exertions, he only succeeded in obtaining the “_wooden
spoon_,” an honour which devolves upon the last of the “_junior
optimes_.” Whether his failure arose from an exuberant or a deficient
genius, or, to speak _phrenologically_, from an excess in his _number
of bumps_, or a defect in his _bump of numbers_, we are really unable
to state, never having had an opportunity of verifying our suspicions
by a manual examination of his cranium; he was, however, well read in
the classics, and so devoted to the works of Virgil that he never lost
an opportunity of quoting his favourite poet; and it must be admitted,
that, although these quotations so generally pervaded his conversation
as to become irksome, they were sometimes apposite, and now and then
even witty. But notwithstanding the delight which he experienced in a
_lusus verborum_ in a learned language, of such contradictory materials
was he compossed, that his antipathy to an English pun was extravagant
and ridiculous. This peculiarity has been attributed, but we speak
merely from common report, to a disgust which he contracted for that
species of spurious wit, during his frequent intercourse with the
Johnians, a race of students who have, from time immemorial, been
identified with the most profligate class of punsters; be this,
however, as it may, we are inclined to believe that a person who
resides much amongst those who are addicted to this _vice_, unless he
quickly takes the infection, acquires a sort of constitutional
insusceptibility, like nurses, who pass their lives in infected
apartments with perfect safety and impunity. His favourite, and we
might add his only pursuit, beyond the circle of his profession, was
the study of antiquities; he was, as we have already stated, a Fellow
of the Society of Antiquaries; had collected a very tolerable series of
ancient coins, and possessed sufficient critical acumen to distinguish
between Attic _ærugo_, and the spurious _verdure_ of the modern
counterfeit. Often had he undertaken an expedition of a hundred miles
to inspect the interior of an ancient barrow, or to examine the
mouldering fragments of some newly-discovered monument; indeed, like
the connoisseur in cheese, blue-mould and decay were the favourite
objects of his taste, and the sure passports to his favour; for he
despised all _living_ testimony, but that of worms and maggots. A coin
with the head of a _living_ sovereign passed through his hands with as
little resistance as water through a sieve, but he grasped the head of
an Antonine or Otho with insatiable and relentless avarice. Mr.
Twaddleton’s figure exceeded the middle stature, and was so extremely
slender as to give him the air and appearance of a tall man. He was
usually dressed in an old-fashioned suit of black cloth, consisting of
a single-breasted coat, with a standing collar, and deep comprehensive
cuffs, and a flapped waistcoat; but so awkwardly did these vestments
conform with the contour of his person, that we might have supposed
them the production of those Laputan tailors who wrought by
mathematical principles, and held in sovereign contempt the illiterate
fashioners who deemed it necessary to measure the forms of their
customers; although it was whispered by certain censorious spinsters in
the village that the aforesaid mathematical artists were better
acquainted with the _angles_ of the Seven Dials, than with the
_squares_ of the west end. They farther surmised that the vicar’s
annual journey to London, which in truth was undertaken with no other
objects than those of attending the anniversary of the Society of
Antiquaries, on Saint George’s day, and of inspecting the cabinets of
his old crony, the celebrated medallist of Tavistock-street, was for
the laudable purpose of recruiting his wardrobe. If the aforesaid coat,
with its straggling and disproportioned suburbs, possessed an amplitude
of dimensions which ill accorded with the slender wants of his person,
this misapplied liberality was more than compensated by the rigid
economy exhibited in the _nether_ part of his costume, which evidently
had not been designed by a contemporary artisan; not so his shoes,
which, for the accommodation of those unwelcome parasites, vulgarly
called _corns_, were constructed in the form of a battledore, and
displayed such an unbecoming quantity of leather, that, as Ned Hopkins,
a subaltern wit of the village alehouse, observed, “however economical
their parson might appear, he was undoubtedly _supported in
extravagance_.” Nor did the natural association between tithes and
“_corn-bags_” escape his observation, but was repeated with various
other allusions of equal piquancy, to the no small annoyance of the
reverend gentleman, and, as he declared, to the disparagement of his
cloth.
After the social repast had been concluded, Tom proposed a ramble
through the shrubbery. He was anxious to revisit the scene of his
former sports; and Louisa readily met his wishes, for she was also
desirous of showing him the _botanical clock_, which had been planned
and completed since his absence. Mr. Seymour accompanied his children,
and, as they walked across the lawn, Tom asked his father whether he
remembered the promise he had made him on quitting home for school,
that of furnishing him with some new amusements during the holidays.
“I perfectly remember,” said his father, “the promise to which you
allude, and I hope that you equally well recollect the conditions with
which it was coupled. When your mamma gave you a copy of Mrs. Marcet’s
instructive Dialogues on Natural Philosophy, I told you that, after you
had studied the principles which that work so admirably explains, you
would have but little difficulty in understanding the philosophy of
toys, or the manner in which each produced its amusing effects; and
that, when the midsummer holidays commenced, I would successively
supply you with a new amusement, whenever you could satisfactorily
explain the principles of those you already possessed. Was not that our
contract?”
“It was,” exclaimed Tom, with great eagerness, “and I am sure I shall
win the prize, whenever you will try me, and I hope my mamma and
sisters will be present.”
“Certainly,” replied Mr. Seymour, “and I trust that Louisa and Fanny,
who are of an age to understand the subject, will not prove
uninterested spectators. John, too, will profit by our scheme; for, as
I shall necessarily require, for illustration, certain toys which can
scarcely afford any amusement to a boy of your age and acquirements, it
is but fair that they should be transferred into his hands; our little
philosopher, Matthew, will also, I am sure, enter into the spirit of
our pastimes with the greatest satisfaction.”
“Thank you! thank you! dear papa,” was simultaneously shouted by
several voices, and the happy children looked forward to the morrow
with that mixed sensation of impatience and delight which always
attends juvenile anticipations.
On the following morning, the vicar was seen approaching, and Tom and
his sisters immediately ran forward to greet him.
“My dear boy,” exclaimed the vicar, “I am truly rejoiced to see
you;--when did you arrive from school?--How goes on Virgil?--Hey, my
boy?--You must be delighted with the great Mantuan bard;--now confess,
you little Trojan, can you eat a cheesecake without being reminded of
the Harpy’s prophecy, and its fulfilment, as discovered by young
Ascanius:--
Heus! etiam _mensas_ consumimus, inquit Iulus.
ÆN. vii. 116.
“But, bless me, how amazingly you have grown! and how healthy you
look!” Tom took advantage of this pause in the vicar’s address, which
had hitherto flowed in so uninterrupted and rapid a stream as to
preclude the possibility of any reply to his questions, to inform him
that his father was on the lawn, and desirous of seeing him.
“Mr. Twaddleton,” exclaimed Mr. Seymour, “you are just in time to
witness the commencement of a series of amusements, which I have
proposed for Tom’s instruction during the holidays.”
“Amusement and instruction,” replied the vicar, “are not synonymous in
my vocabulary; unless, indeed, they be applied to the glorious works of
Virgil; but let me hear your scheme.”
“I have long thought,” said Mr. Seymour, “that all the first principles
of natural philosophy might be easily taught, and beautifully
illustrated, by the common toys which have been invented for the
amusement of youth.”
“A fig for your philosophy,” was the unceremonious and chilling reply
of the vicar. “What have boys,” continued he, “to do with philosophy?
Let them learn their grammar, scan their hexameters, and construe
Virgil; it is time enough to inflict upon them the torments of science
after their names have been entered on the University boards.”
“I differ from you entirely, my worthy friend; the principles of
natural philosophy cannot be too early inculcated, nor can they be too
widely diffused. It is surely a great object to engage the
prepossessions on the side of truth, and to direct the natural
curiosity of youth to useful objects.”
“Hoity toity!” exclaimed the reverend gentleman, “such principles
accord not with my creed; heresy, downright heresy; that a man of your
excellent sense and intelligence can be so far deceived! But the world
has run mad; and much do I grieve to find, that the seclusion of
Overton Lodge has not secured its inmates from the infection. I came
here, Mr. Seymour, to receive your sympathy, and to profit by your
counsel, but, alas! alas! I have fallen into the camp of the enemy.
‘_Medios delapsus in hostes_,’ as Virgil has it.”
“You astonish me--what can have happened?” asked Mr. Seymour.
“There is Tom Plank, the carpenter,” said the vicar, “soliciting
subscriptions for the establishment of a philosophical society. I
understand that this mania--for by what other, or more charitable term
can I express such conduct?--has seized this deluded man since his
return from London, where he has been informed that all the ‘hewers of
wood and drawers of water’ are about to associate themselves into
societies for the promotion of science. Preposterous idea! as if a
block of wood could not be split without a knowledge of the doctrine of
percussion, nor a pail of water drawn from the well without an
acquaintance with hydrostatics; but, as I am a Christian priest, I
solemnly declare, that I grieve only for my flock, and raise my feeble
voice for no other purpose than that of scaring the wolf from the fold:
to be angry, as Pope says, would be to revenge the faults of others
upon ourselves; but I am not angry, Mr. Seymour, I am vexed, sorely
vexed.”
“Take it not thus to heart, my dear vicar,” replied his consoling
friend; “‘_Solve metus_,’ as your poet has it. Science, I admit, is
both the Pallas and Pandora of mankind; its abuse may certainly prove
mischievous, but its sober and well-timed application cannot fail to
increase the happiness of every class of mankind, as well as to advance
and improve every branch of the mechanical arts; so thoroughly am I
satisfied upon this point, that I shall subscribe to the proposed
society with infinite satisfaction.”
“Mr. Seymour! Mr. Seymour! you know not what you do. Would you scatter
the seeds of insubordination? manure the weeds of infidelity? fabricate
a battering-ram to demolish our holy church? Such, indeed, must be the
effect of your Utopian scheme, for truly may I exclaim with the
immortal Maro--
In nostros fabricata est machina muros.”[3]
“Come, come, my good friend, all this is declamation without argument.”
“Without argument! Many are the sad instances which I could adduce in
proof of the evil effects which have already accrued from this
abominable system. I am not in the habit, Sir, of dealing in empty
assertion; already has the aforesaid Tom Plank ventured to question the
classical knowledge of his spiritual pastor, and, as I understand, has
openly avowed himself, at the sixpenny club, as my rival in antiquarian
pursuits.”
“And why should he not?” said the mischievous Mr. Seymour; “I warrant
you he already possesses many an _old saw_; ay, and of a very great
age, too, if we may judge from the _loss of its teeth_.”
During this remonstrance, Mr. Twaddleton had been occupied in whirling
round his steel watch-chain with inconceivable rapidity, and, after a
short pause, he burst out into the following exclamation:--
“Worthy Sir! if you persist in asserting, that a man whose occupation
is to _plane deal_, is prepared to dive into the sacred mysteries of
antiquity, I shall next expect to hear that”--
“A truce, a truce,” cried Mr. Seymour, interrupting the vicar, “to all
such hackneyed objections; and let us _deal plainly_ with your _planer
of deals_: you assert that the carpenter cannot speak grammatically,
and yet he gains his livelihood by _mending stiles_; you complain of
his presumption in argument, would it not be a desertion of his _post_
to decline _railing_? and then, again, with respect to his antiquarian
pretensions, compare them with your own; _you_ rescue _saws from the
dust_, _he_ obtains _dust_ from his saws.”
“What madness has seized my unfortunate friend?
Infelix! quæ tanta animum dementia cepit?
as Virgil has it:--But let it pass, let it pass, Mr. Seymour; my
profession has taught me to bear with humility and patience the
contempt and revilings of my brethren; I forgive Tom Plank for his
presumption, as in that case I alone am the sufferer; but I say to you,
that envy, trouble, discontent, strife, and poverty, will be the fruits
of the seeds you would scatter. I verily believe, that unless this
‘march of intellect,’ as it has been termed, is speedily checked,
Overton, in less than twelve months, will become a deserted village;
for there is scarcely a tradesman who is not already distracted by some
visionary scheme of scientific improvement, that leads to the neglect
of their occupations, and the dissipation of the honest earnings which
their more prudent fathers had accumulated; ‘_Meliora pii docuere
parentes_,’ as the poet has it. What think you of Sam Corkington, who
proposes to erect an apparatus in the crater of Mount Vesuvius, in
order to supply every city on the continent with heat and light; or of
Billy Spooner, who is about to establish a dairy at Spitzbergen, that
he may furnish all Europe with ice-cream from the milk of whales! ‘_O,
viveret Democritus!_’”
The vicar was about to proceed with his lamentations, but the thread of
his discourse was suddenly snapped asunder, and his ideas thrown into
the wildest confusion, by the explosion of a most audacious pun, which
in mercy to Mr. Seymour, as well as to our readers, we will not repeat.
“Mr. Seymour,” exclaimed the incensed vicar, “we will, if you please,
terminate our discourse; I perceive that you are determined to meet my
remonstrances with ridicule; when I had hoped to bring an argument
incapable of refutation, _Tum variæ illudunt pestes_, as Virgil has it.”
“Pray, allow me to ask,” said Mr. Seymour, “whether my puns, or your
quotations, best merit the title of _pestes_?”
“That you should compare the vile practice of punning with the elegant
and refined habit of conveying our ideas by classic symbols, does
indeed surprise and disturb me. Pope has said that words are the
counters by which men represent their thoughts; the plebeian,”
continued the vicar, “selects base metal for their construction, while
the scholar forms them of gold and gems, dug from the richest mines of
antiquity. But to what vile purpose does the punster prostitute such
counters? Not for the interchange of ideas, but, like the juggler, to
deceive and astonish by acts of legerdemain.”
“How fortunate is it that you had not lived in the reign of King
James,” remarked Mr. Seymour; “for that singular monarch, as you may,
perhaps, remember, made very few bishops who had not thus signalised
themselves.”
“To poison our ears by quibbles and quirks did well become him who
sought to deceive our senses and blind our reason--the patron of puns
and the believer in witchcraft were suitably united,” replied the vicar.
“Well,” said Mr. Seymour, “as this is a subject upon which it is not
likely that we should agree, I will pass to another, where I hope to be
more successful; I trust I shall induce you to view with more
complacency my project of teaching philosophy by the aid of toys and
sports.”
“Mr. Seymour, the proposal of instructing children in the principles of
natural philosophy, is really too visionary to require calm discussion;
and can be equalled only in absurdity by the method you propose for
carrying it into effect.”
“Come, come, my dear vicar, pray chain up your prejudices, and let your
kind spirit loose for half an hour: let me beg that you will so far
indulge me,” said Mr. Seymour, “as to listen patiently to the plan by
which it is my intention to turn sport into science, or, in other
words, toys into instruments of philosophical instruction.”
“And is it then possible,” said the vicar, in a tone of supplication,
“that you can seriously entertain so wild, and, I might even add, so
cruel a scheme? Would you pursue the luckless little urchin from the
schoolroom into the very playground, with your unrelenting tyranny? a
sanctuary which the most rigid pedagogue has hitherto held inviolable.
Is the buoyant spirit so forcibly, though perhaps necessarily,
repressed, during the hours of discipline, to have no interval for its
free and uncontrolled expansion? Your science, methinks, Mr. Seymour,
might have taught you a wiser lesson; for you must well know that the
most elastic body will lose that property by being constantly kept in a
state of tension.”
“A fine specimen of sophistry, upon my word,” cried Mr. Seymour, “which
would, doubtless, raise every nursery-governess and doating grandmother
in open rebellion against me: but let me add, that it ill becomes a man
of liberal and enlarged ideas, to suffer his opinions to be the sport
of mere words; for, that our present difference is an affair of words,
and of words only, I will undertake to prove, to the satisfaction of
any unprejudiced person. _Play_ and _work_--_amusement_ and
_instruction_--_toys_ and _tasks_--are invariably but most
unjustifiably employed as words of contrast and opposition; an error
which has arisen from the indistinct and very indefinite ideas which we
attach to such words. If the degree of mental exertion be said to
constitute the difference between _play_ and _work_, I am quite sure
that the definition would be violated in the first illustration; for
let me ask, when do boys exert so much thought as in carrying into
effect their holiday schemes? The distinction may, perhaps, be made to
turn upon the irksome feelings which might be supposed to attend the
drudgery of study, but this can never happen except from a vicious
system of education that excludes the operations of thought; a school
that locks in the body, but locks out the mind: depend upon it, Mr.
Twaddleton, that the human mind, whether in youth or manhood, is ever
gratified by the acquisition of information; every occupation soon
cloys, unless it be seasoned by this stimulant. Is not the child idle
and miserable in a nursery full of playthings, and to what expedient
does he instinctively fly to relieve his _ennui_? Why, he breaks his
toys to pieces, as Miss Edgeworth justly observes, not from the love of
mischief, but from the hatred of idleness, or rather from an innate
thirst after knowledge; and he becomes, as it were, an enterprising
adventurer, and opens for himself a new source of pleasure and
amusement, in exploring the mechanism of their several parts. Think
you, then, Mr. Twaddleton, that any assistance which might be offered
the boy, under such circumstances, would be received by him as a task?
Certainly not. The acquisition of knowledge then, instead of detracting
from, must heighten the amusement of toys; and if I have succeeded in
convincing you of this truth, my object is accomplished.”
Thus did Mr. Seymour, like an able general, assail his adversary on his
own ground; he drove him, as it were, into a corner, and by seizing the
only pass through which he could make his escape, forced him to
surrender at discretion.
“Why, truly,” replied the vicar, after a short pause, “I am ready to
admit that there is much good sense in your observations; and, if the
scientific instruction upon these occasions be not carried so far as to
puzzle the boy, I am inclined to coincide with you.”
“Therein lies the whole secret,” said Mr. Seymour: “when an occupation
agreeably interests the understanding, imagination, or passions of
children, it is what is commonly understood by the term _play_ or
_sport_; whereas that which is not accompanied with such associations,
and yet may be necessary for their future welfare, is, properly enough,
designated as a _task_.”
“I like the distinction,” observed the vicar.
“Then may I hope that you will indulge me so far as to listen to the
scheme by which it is my intention to turn ‘Sport into Science,’ or, in
other words, _Toys_ into instruments of _Philosophical Instruction_?”
The vicar nodded assent.
Mr. Seymour proceeded--“In the first place, I would give the boy some
general notions with regard to the properties of matter, such as its
gravitation, vis inertiæ, elasticity, &c. What apparatus can be
required for such a purpose, beyond some of the more simple toys?
Indeed, I will undertake to demonstrate the three grand laws of motion
by a game at ball; while the composition and resolution of forces may
be beautifully exemplified during a game of marbles, especially that of
‘ring-taw;’ but in order that you may more clearly comprehend the
capability of my plan, allow me to enumerate the various philosophical
principles which are involved in the operation of the several more
popular toys and sports. We will commence with the ball; which will
illustrate the nature and phenomena of _elasticity_, as it leaps from
the ground;--of _rotatory motion_, while it runs along its surface;--of
_reflected motion_, and of the _angles of incidence and reflection_, as
it rebounds from the wall;--and of _projectiles_, as it is whirled
through the air; at the same time the cricket-bat may serve to explain
the _centre of percussion_. A game at marbles may be made subservient
to the same purposes, and will farther assist us in conveying clear
ideas upon the subject of the _collision of elastic and non-elastic
bodies_, and of their _velocities and direction after impact_. The
_composition and resolution of forces_ may be explained at the same
time. The nature of _elastic springs_ will require no other apparatus
for its elucidation than Jack in the box, and the numerous
leaping-frogs and cats with which the nursery abounds. The leathern
sucker will exemplify the nature of _cohesion_, and the effect of water
in filling up those inequalities by which contiguous surfaces are
deprived of their attractive power; it will, at the same time,
demonstrate the nature of a _vacuum_, and the influence of _atmospheric
pressure_. The squirt will afford a farther illustration of the same
views, and will furnish a practical proof of the weight of the
atmosphere in raising a column of water. The theory of the pump will
necessarily follow. The great elasticity of air, and the opposite
property of water, I shall be able to show by the amusing exhibition of
the ‘_Bottle Imps_.’”
“Bottle Imps!--‘_Acheronta movebis_,’” muttered the vicar.
Mr. Seymour continued--“The various balancing toys will elucidate the
nature of the _centre of gravity, point of suspension_, and _line of
direction_: the seesaw, rocking-horse, and the operation of walking on
stilts, will here come in aid of our explanations. The combined effects
of momentum and a change in the centre of gravity of a body may be
beautifully exemplified by the action of the Chinese Tumblers. The
sling will demonstrate the existence and effect of _centrifugal force_;
the top and tetotum will prove the power of vertiginous motion to
support the axis of a body in an upright position. The trundling of the
hoop will accomplish the same and other objects. The game of
_bilboquet_, or cup and ball, will show the influence of rotatory
motion in steadying the rectilinear path of a spherical body, whence
the theory of the rifle-gun may be deduced. For conveying some
elementary ideas of the doctrine of _oscillation_, there is the swing.
The flight of the arrow will not only elucidate the principles of
_projectiles_, but will explain the force of the air in producing
rotatory motion by its impact on oblique surfaces: the revolution of
the shuttlecock may be shown to depend upon the same resolution of
forces. Then comes the kite, one of the most instructive and amusing of
all the pastimes of youth,--the favourite toy of Newton in his boyish
days:[4]--its ascent at once developes the theory of the composition
and resolution of forces, and explains various subordinate principles,
which I shall endeavour to describe when we arrive at the subject. The
_see-saw_ will unfold the general principle upon which the Mechanical
Powers are founded; and the boy may thus be easily led to the theory of
the _lever_, by being shown how readily he can balance the heavier
weight of a man by riding on the longer arm of the plank. The theory of
colours may be pointed out to him as he blows his soap-bubbles;[5] an
amusement which will, at the same time, convince him that the air must
exert a pressure equally in all directions. For explaining the theory
of sound, there are the whistle, the humming-top, the whiz-gig, the
pop-gun, the bull-roarer, and sundry other amusements well known in the
play-ground; but it is not my intention, at present, to enumerate _all_
the toys which may be rendered capable of affording philosophical
instruction; I merely wish to convince you that my plan is not quite so
chimerical as you were at first inclined to believe.”
“Upon my word,” said the vicar, “no squirrel ever hopped from branch to
branch with more agility,--you are the very counterpart of Cornelius
Scriblerus; but I must confess that your scheme is plausible, very
plausible, and I shall no longer refuse to attend you in the progress
of its execution.
Cedo equidem, nec, nate, tibi comes ire recuso,[6]
as Virgil has it.”
Mr. Seymour, however, saw very plainly that, although the vicar thus
withdrew his opposition, he was nevertheless very far from embarking in
the cause with enthusiasm, and that, upon the principle already
discussed, he would perform his part rather as a _task_ than a
_pastime_. Nor was the line which Mr. Twaddleton had quoted from the
Æneid calculated to efface such an impression. It was true, that, like
Anchises, he no longer refused to accompany him in his expedition; but,
if the comparison were to run parallel, it was evident that he would
have to carry him as a dead weight on his shoulders. This difficulty,
however, was speedily surmounted by an expedient, with which the reader
will become acquainted by the recital of what followed.
“I rejoice greatly,” said Mr. Seymour, “that we have at length
succeeded in enlisting you into our service; without your able
assistance, I fear that my instruction would be extremely imperfect;
for you must know, my dear sir, that I am ambitious of making Tom an
antiquary as well as a philosopher, and I look to you for a history of
the several toys which I shall have occasion to introduce.”
This propitiatory sentence had its desired effect.
“Most cheerfully shall I comply with your wishes,” exclaimed the
delighted vicar; “and I can assure you, sir, that, with regard to
several of the more popular toys and pastimes, there is much very
curious and interesting lore.”
Mr. Seymour had upon this occasion succeeded in opening the heart of
the vicar, just as a skilful mechanic would pick a patent lock; who,
instead of forcing it by direct violence, seeks to discover the secret
spring to which all its various movements are subservient.
“To-morrow, then,” cried the vicar, in a voice of great exultation, “we
will commence our career, from which I anticipate the highest
satisfaction and advantage; in the mean time,” continued he, “I will
refresh my memory upon certain points touching the antiquities of these
said pastimes, or, as we used to say at college, _get up_ the subject.
I will also press into our service my friend and neighbour Jeremy
Prybabel, whose etymological knowledge will greatly assist us in
tracing the origin of many of the words used in our sports, which is
frequently not very obvious.”
Mr. Seymour cast an intelligible glance at his wife, who was no less
surprised at the sudden change in the vicar’s sentiments than she was
pleased with the skill and address by which it had been accomplished.
[Illustration: Kite with a smiling face, on a table with various other
toys.]
-----
Footnote 3:
“An engine’s raised to batter down our walls.”—ÆN. ii. 46.
Footnote 4:
Sir Isaac Newton is said to have been much attached to
Philosophical sports when a boy; he was the first to introduce
paper kites at Grantham, where he was at school. He took pains to
find out their proper proportions and figure, and the proper place
for fixing the string to them. He made lanterns of paper crimpled,
which he used to go to school by in winter mornings with a candle,
and he tied them to the tail of his kites in a dark night, which at
first frightened the country people exceedingly, who took his
candles for comets.--_Thomson’s Hist. of R.S._
Footnote 5:
The colours which glitter on a soap-bubble are the immediate
consequence of a principle the most important from the variety of
phenomena it explains, and the most beautiful from its simplicity and
compendious neatness in the whole science of Optics.--_Herschel’s
Preliminary Discourses._
Footnote 6:
“I yield, my son, and no longer refuse to become your
companion.”--ÆN. ii. 704.
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[Illustration: Seven people gathered around a well.]