THE DAWN OF SCIENCE.
Most people, and more especially our writers of fiction, history,
philosophy, and so forth, indulge in reflection, at those moments, when
they are soaring above our heads; but I have always found myself so
unlucky in this matter, as in many others, that nothing would ever come
into my head, when aloft, to be any good when I came down. Or, at least
only once, as will be shown hereafter; and that was the exception, which
proves the rule.
Otherwise, I might now give many nice and precise descriptions of
"variant motions and emotions, both somatic and psychical"--as Professor
Brachipod expressed them--which must, according to his demonstration,
have been inside me, at my first flight. Very likely they were; and even
if they were not, it would never pay me to be positive--or negative
perhaps is the proper word now--because ignorant science is
remunerative, and nothing can be got by impugning it.
Yet that consideration, I assure you, has nothing to do with my present
silence. I am silent, simply because I know nothing; and if all so
placed would try my plan, how much less would be said and written!
Nevertheless all biologists, psychologists, anthropologists, and the
rest of our race who make it their study (after proving it wholly below
their heed) these men, if they deign to be called such, have a claim
upon me for all my facts; which I will not grudge, when I know them.
From the very outset, they felt this; and my father and mother, who had
not slept well, through talking so much of my above adventure--recounted
perhaps with some embellishment by Chumps--hardly had got through their
breakfast before some eminent "scientists" were at them. For my part,
having made a hearty supper, (after long scarcity of butcher's meat,) or
perhaps from having swallowed so much air, I had slept long and soundly,
and was turning for another good sleep, when I heard great voices.
"Madam, allow me to express surprise," were the words which came up to
me, through the ceiling, at the place where my head had made the hole,
"extreme surprise at the narrowness of your views. Must I come to the
conclusion, that you refuse to forward the interests of science?"
"Sir," replied mother, who was always polite, when she failed to make
out what people meant, "science is what I don't know from the moon. But
I do know what my Tommy is."
"My dear Mrs. Upmore," was the answer, in a soft sweet voice, which I
found afterwards to be that of Professor Brachipod, "in consulting the
interests of science, we shall consult those of the beloved Tommy. His
existence is so interwoven with a newly formed theory of science"----
"You impudent hop'-my-thumb, what do you mean," broke in a deep sound,
which I knew to be my father's, "by calling my wife your dear indeed?
First time as ever you set eyes on her. Out you go, and no mistake."
Upon this ensued a heavy tread, and a little unscientific squeak; and
out went Professor Brachipod, as lightly as if on the wings of his
theory.
"Upmore, this violence is a mistake," another and larger voice broke in,
as my father came back quietly; "the Professor's views may be erroneous;
but to eliminate him, because of somatic inferiority, is counter to the
tendency of the age. My theory differs from his, _toto coelo_. But in
the cause of pure reason, I protest against unmanly recourse to
physics."
"You shall have the same physick, if you don't clear out;" said my
father, as peaceable a man as need be, till his temper was put up; "an
Englishman's house is his castle. No science have a right to come
spoiling his breakfast. You call me unmanly, in your big words. You are
a big man, and now I'll tackle you. Out goes Professor Jargoon."
There was some little scuffle, before this larger Professor was
"eliminated," because he was a strong man, and did not like to go; but
without much labour he was placed outside.
"Now, if either of you two chaps comes back," my father shouted from his
threshold, "the science he gets will be my fist. And lucky for him, he
haven't had it yet."
Running to the window of my room, I saw the professors, arm-in-arm,
going sadly up the cinder-heaps; and glad as I was to be quit of them, I
did not like the way of it. However, I hoped for the best, and went
down in my trousers and braces to breakfast. My father was gone to his
boiling by this time, for nothing must ever interfere with that; but my
mother would never give up her breakfast, till she saw the bottom of the
teapot.
"Oh, Tommy darling," she cried, as she caught me, and kissed me quite
into the china-cupboard, for we always had breakfast in the kitchen,
when out of a maid-of-all-work: "my own little Tommy, do you know why
you fly? All the greatest men in the kingdom have been here, to prove
that you do it from reasons of Herod, Heroditical something--but he was
a bad man, and murdered a million of little ones. They may prove what
they like; and of course they know more about my own child, than I do. I
don't care that for their science," said mother, snapping her thumb,
which was large and very fat; "but tell me, Tommy, from your own dear
feelings, what it was that made you fly so?"
"I didn't fly, mother; I only went up, because I could not help it.
Because I was so empty, and felt certain of getting full again, quite
early in the holidays."
"Begin at once, darling, and don't talk. Oh, it is a cruel, cruel thing,
that you should leave the ground for want of victuals, when your father
clears eight pounds a week. Deny it as he may, I can prove it to him.
But I have found out what makes you fly. A flip for their science, and
thundering words!"
"Well, mother, I don't want to do it again;" I answered as well as I
could, with my mouth quite full of good bacon, and a baker's roll; "but
do please tell me what made me do it."
"Tommy, the reason is out of the Bible. You cannot help flying, just
because you are an angel."
"They never told me that at school," I said; "and old Rum would have
caned me, if he could reach. But he never would have dared to cane an
angel."
"Hush, Tommy, hush! How dare you call that learned old gentleman, with
white hair, 'old Rum'? But never mind, darling. Whatever you do, don't
leave off eating."
For this I might be trusted, after all I had been through; and so well
did I spend my days at home (especially when Bill Chumps came to dine
with us, upon his own stipulation what the dinner was to be), that
instead of going up into the air at all, the stoutest lover of his
native land could not have surpassed me in sticking to it.
Chumps, though the foremost of boys, was inclined to be shy with
grown-up people, till mother emboldened him with ginger-wine, and then
he gave such an account of my exploit, that my father, and mother,
looked at him with faces as different as could be. My mother's face was
all eyes and mouth, with admiration, delight, excitement, vigorous
faith, and desire for more; my father's face was all eyebrows, nose, and
lips; and he shook his big head, that neighbour Chumps should have such
a liar for his eldest son. Nothing but the evidence of his own eyes
would ever convince Bucephalus Upmore, that a son of his, or of any
other Englishman, came out of an egg; without which there was no flying.
"Mr. Upmore, you should be ashamed of yourself," my mother broke in
rather sharply, "to argue such questions before young boys. But since
you must edify us, out with your proof that the blessed angels were so
born. Or will you deny them the power to fly?"
"Never did I claim," answered father, with a little wink at Chumps, "to
know the ins and outs of angels, not having married one, as some folk
do, until they discover the difference. Our Tommy is a good boy enough,
in his way; but no angel, no more than his parents be. If ever I see him
go up like a bubble, I'll fetch him down sharp with my clout-rake; but
if I don't use my rake till then, it will last out my lifetime, I'll bet
a guinea. Now, Tommy, feed, and don't talk or look about. You'll be
sorry when you get back to school, for every moment that you have
wasted."
"My mind is not altogether clear," said mother, "about letting him go
back to the Latin Pantheon"--this was her name for the _Partheneion_;
"he is welcome to have a gentle fly now and then, as Providence has so
endowed him, and I am sure he would never fly away from his own mother;
but as for his flying, because he is empty in his poor inside--I'll not
hear of it. Bucephalus, how would you like it?"
"Can't say at all, mother, till I have tried it. Shall be glad to hear
Tommy's next experience. Back he goes to-morrow morning; and by this day
week, if they starve him well, he'll be fit to go sky-high again. A
likely thing, indeed, that I should pay ten guineas beforehand, for a
quarter's board, and tuition in classics and mathematics, all of the
finest quality, and another ten guineas in lieu of notice, and get only
three weeks for the whole of it! Come, Tommy, how much have you learned,
my boy?"
"Oh, ever such a lot, father! I am sure I don't know what."
"Well, my son, give us a sample of it. Unless there's too much to break
bulk at random. Tip us a bit of your learning, Tommy."
"Wait a bit, father, till I've got my fingers up. When they come right,
I say _hic_, _hæc_, _hoc_, and the singular number of _musa_, a song. I
have told mother every word of it."
"Out and out beautiful it sounds," said mother; "quite above business,
and what goes on in the week. Dr. Rumbelow must be a wonderful man, to
have made such great inventions."
"Well, it's very hard to pay for it, and leave it in the clouds," my
father said, sniffing as if he smelled pudding. "Let's have some more of
it, sky-high Tommy."
My mother looked at me, as much as to say, "Now, my dear son, astonish
him"; and my conscience told me that I ought to do it; and I felt myself
trying very hard indeed to think; but not a Latin word would come of it.
Perhaps I might have done it, if it had not been for Chumps, who kept on
putting up his mouth, to blow me some word, bigger than the one that I
was after; while all that I wanted was a little one. And father leaned
back, with a wink, to encourage me to take the shine out of himself, by
my learning. But I could only lick my spoon.
"Come, if that is ten guineas' worth of Latin," said my father, "I
should like to know what sixpenn'orth is. Tell us the Latin for
sixpence, Tommy."
It was natural that I should not know this; and I doubt whether even
Chumps did, for he turned away, lest I should ask him. But my mother
never would have me trampled on.
"Mr. Upmore, you need not be vulgar," she said, "because you have had no
advantages. Would you dare to speak so, before Latin scholars? Even
Master Chumps is blushing for you; and his father a man of such fine
common sense! No sensible person can doubt, for a moment, that Tommy
knows a great many words of Latin, but is not to be persecuted out of
them, in that very coarse manner, at dinner time. Tell me, my dear," she
said, turning to me, for I was fit to cry almost, "what is the reason
that you can't bring out your learning. I am sure that you have it, my
chick; and there must be some very good reason for keeping it in."
"Then, I'll tell you what it is," I answered, looking at my father, more
than her; "there is such a lot of it, it all sticks together."
"That's the best thing I ever heard in my life;" cried father, as soon
as he could stop laughing, while Chumps was grinning wisely, with his
mouth full of pudding. "What a glorious investment of my ten guineas, to
have a son so learned, that he can't produce a word of it, because it
all sticks together! To-morrow, my boy, you shall go back for the rest
of it. Like a lump of grains it seems to be, that you can't get into
with a mashing-stick. Ah, I shall tell that joke to-night!"
"So you may," said mother, "so you may, Bucephalus; but don't let us
have any more of it. 'Tis enough to make any boy hate learning, to be
blamed for it, so unjustly. Would he ever have flown, if it had not been
for Latin? And that shows how much he has got of it. Answer that, if
you can, Mr. Upmore."
But my father was much too wise to try. "Sophy, you beat me there," he
said; "I never was much of a hand at logic, as all the clever ladies
are. Bill Chumps shall have a glass of wine after his pudding, and Tommy
drink water like a flying fish; and you may pour me a drop from the
black square bottle, as soon as you have filled my pipe, my dear."
"That I will, Bucephalus, with great pleasure; if you will promise me
one little thing. If Tommy goes back to that Latin Pantheon, they must
let him come home, every Sunday."
"Fly home to his nest, to prevent him from flying;" my father replied,
with a smile of good humour, for he liked to see his pipe filled;
"encourage his crop, and discourage his wings. 'Old Rum,' as they call
him, wouldn't hear of that at first. But perhaps he will, now that he
has turned out such a flyer."