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Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809-1894

"The Poet at the Breakfast-Table"

But if a planet can grow as a rain-drop
grows, why then--It was a great comfort to these timid folk when Lord
Rosse's telescope resolved certain nebula into star-clusters. Sir John
Herschel would have told them that this made little difference in
accounting for the formation of worlds by aggregation, but at any rate it
was a comfort to them.
--These people have always been afraid of the astronomers,--said the
Master.--They were shy, you know, of the Copernican system, for a long
while; well they might be with an oubliette waiting for them if they
ventured to think that the earth moved round the sun. Science settled
that point finally for them, at length, and then it was all right,--when
there was no use in disputing the fact any longer. By and by geology
began turning up fossils that told extraordinary stories about the
duration of life upon our planet. What subterfuges were not used to get
rid of their evidence! Think of a man seeing the fossilized skeleton of
an animal split out of a quarry, his teeth worn down by mastication, and
the remains of food still visible in his interior, and, in order to get
rid of a piece of evidence contrary to the traditions he holds to,
seriously maintaining that this skeleton never belonged to a living
creature, but was created with just these appearances; a make-believe, a
sham, a Barnum's-mermaid contrivance to amuse its Creator and impose upon
his intelligent children! And now people talk about geological epochs
and hundreds of millions of years in the planet's history as calmly as if
they were discussing the age of their deceased great-grandmothers.


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