No. 335:
ERASMUS DARWIN
by John H. Lienhard
Click here for audio of Episode 335.
Today, some poets watch the Industrial Revolution
unfold. The University of Houston's College of
Engineering presents this series about the machines
that make our civilization run, and the people
whose ingenuity created them.
Poets sang along with the
Industrial Revolution like a Greek chorus. Long
before anyone saw how far the Revolution would
finally reach, writers began celebrating the
engines that gave it birth. A popular poem written
by John Dalton in the mid-1700s praised an early
steam-engine maker:
Man's richest gift thy work will shine: Rome's
aqueducts were poor to thine!
And John Dyer wrote about the new
spinning machines. "Art," he said,
... has a spiral engine form'd,
Which, on an hundred spools, an hundred
threads,
With one huge wheel, by lapse of water, twines.
By 1800 the mood was changing. As the
machines belched out soot and smoke, the watching
poets objected. William Blake, like many others, drew
images from Milton's apocalyptic Paradise
Lost. In a poem titled Milton,
God speaks to Satan and says,
Get to thy labours at the Mills & leave me
to my wrath ... Thy work is Eternal Death with
Mills & Ovens and Cauldrons.
Pretty heavy stuff! Poets were hurling
some harsh weapons at the new machines. But not all.
Charles Darwin's grandfather, Erasmus Darwin, was a
key soldier in the Revolution. He was a doctor, a
scientist, and a popular poet. He was also a
founder of the Lunar Society -- that unlikely cell
group where scientists, industrialists, and writers
sat down to talk and to plot the Revolution's
course.
Darwin played counterpoint to the literary main
line. Romantic poets assailed technology. Darwin
documented it. For Darwin, engines were a part of
nature. We're drawn in by his glee when he
describes the water wheels powering Arkwright's
cotton mill: He says of the river-god,
His ponderous oars to slender spindles turns,
And pours o'er massy wheels his foamy urns;
But Darwin's writing was more than just
graceful. It was also prophetic. Here's an
astonishing piece, written in 1791 -- 13 years before
even the first locomotive:
Soon shall thy arm, UNCONQUER'D STEAM! afar
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car;
Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear
The flying-chariot through the fields of air.
-- Fair crews triumphant, leaning from above,
Shall wave their fluttering kerchiefs as they
move;
Or warrior-bands alarm the gaping crowd,
And armies shrink beneath the shadowy cloud.
That's an amazing vision -- a hope-fed
vision -- a vision born in optimism that lasted for
half a century -- a vision shared by poets and
millwrights alike. Poets helped raise the vision up.
They helped haul it back to earth. But poets have
always understood what we forget: that we own the
means for building a better world, anytime we want.
I'm John Lienhard, at the University of Houston,
where we're interested in the way inventive minds
work.
(Theme music)
Klingender, F.D., ART, and the Industrial
Revolution. New York: Augustus M. Kelley
Publishers, 1968.

Image courtesy of Special
Collections, UH Library
An Illustration by William Blake for Erasmus
Darwin's
The Botanic Garden, 1799

Image courtesy of Special
Collections, UH Library
The Frontispiece of Darwin's The Botanic
Garden, 1799
The Engines of Our Ingenuity is
Copyright © 1988-1997 by John H.
Lienhard.
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