_Forty stripes save one for the smaller Paradoxers._
Hark to the wisdom the sages preach Who never have learnt what they try to teach. We are the lights of the age, they say! We are the men, and the thinkers we! So we build up guess-work the livelong day, In a topsy-turvy sort of way, Some with and some wanting _a_ plus b. Let the British Association fuss; What are theirs to the feats to be wrought by us? { 354} Shall the earth stand still? Will the round come square? Must Isaac's book be the nest of a mare? Ought the moon to be taught by the laws of space To turn half round without right-about-face? Our whimsey crotchets will manage it all; Deep! Deep! posterity will them call! Though the world, for the present, lets them fall Down! Down! to the twopenny box of the stall!
Thus they--But the marplot Time stands by, With a knowing wink in his funny old eye. He grasps by the top an immense fool's cap, Which he calls a philosophaster-trap: And rightly enough, for while these little men Croak loud as a concert of frogs in a fen, He first singles out one, and then another, Down goes the cap--lo! a moment's pother, A spirit like that which a rushlight utters As just at the last it kicks and gutters: When the cruel smotherer is raised again Only snuff, and but little of that, will remain.
But though _uno avulso_ thus comes every day _Non deficit alter_ is also in play: For the vacant parts are, one and all, Soon taken by puppets just as small; Who chirp, chirp, chirp, with a grasshopper's glee, We're the lamps of the Universe, We! We! We! But Time, whose speech is never long,-- He hasn't time for it--stops the song And says--Lilliput lamps! leave the twopenny boxes, And shine in the Budget of Paradoxes!
When a paradoxer parades capital letters and diagrams which are as good as Newton's to all who know nothing about it, some persons wonder why science does not rise and triturate the whole thing. This is why: all who are fit to read the refutation are satisfied already, and can, if they please, detect the paradoxer for themselves. Those who are not fit to do this would not know the difference between the true answer and the new capitals and diagrams on which the delighted paradoxer would declare { 355} that he had crumbled the philosophers, and not they him. Trust him for having the last word: and what matters it whether he crow the unanswerable sooner or later? There are but two courses to take. One is to wait until he has committed himself in something which all can understand, as Mr. Reddie has done in his fancy about the Astronomer Royal's change of opinion: he can then be put in his true place. The other is to construct a Budget of Paradoxes, that the world may see how the thing is always going on, and that the picture I have concocted by cribbing and spoiling a bit of poetry is drawn from life. He who wonders at there being no answer has seen one or two: he does not know that there are always fifty with equal claims, each of whom regards his being ranked with the rest as forty-nine distinct and several slanders upon himself, the great Mully Ully Gue. And the fifty would soon be five hundred if any notice were taken of them. They call mankind to witness that science _will not_ defend itself, though publicly attacked in terms which might sting a pickpocket into standing up for his character: science, in return, allows mankind to witness or not, at pleasure, that it _does not_ defend itself, and yet receives no injury from centuries of assault. Demonstrative reason never raises the cry of _Church in Danger_! and it cannot have any Dictionary of Heresies except a Budget of Paradoxes. Mistaken claimants are left to Time and his extinguisher, with the approbation of all thinking non-claimants: there is no need of a succession of exposures. Time gets through the job in his own workmanlike manner as already described.