June 23, 1770

Mark Akenside (November 9, 1721 to June 23, 1770) was an English writer. He also worked as a physician, and cherished political ambitions. This son of a butcher became the Queen's physician at the height of his career.

Here is a poem Akenside titled "A Virtuoso", and in it we glimpse a less than flattering look at the gentleman scientist, and a society in which it is not necessary to have degrees to pursue one's intellectual curiosity.

THE VIRTUOSO;....


Whilom by silver Thames's gentle stream,
In London town there dwelt a subtile wight;
A wight of mickle wealth, and mickle fame,
Book-learn'd and quaint; a Virtuoso hight.
Uncommon things, and rare, were his delight;
From musings deep his brain ne'er gotten ease, 

Nor ceasen he from study, day or night;
Until (advancing onward by degrees) 

He knew whatever breeds on earth, or air, or seas.

He many a creature did anatomize,
Almost unpeopling water, air, and land;
Beasts, fishes, birds, snails, caterpillars, flies,
Were laid full low by his relentless hand,
That oft with gory crimson was distain'd:
He many a dog destroy'd, and many a cat;
Of fleas his bed, of frogs the marshes drain'd,
Could tellen if a mite were lean or fat,
And read a lecture o'er the entrails of a gnat.

This quotation is from one of many editions of Akenside's work: The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside (1835.) This dates from before the professionalization of the natural sciences, before the word "scientist" even existed. We get the picture above -- knowledge for its own sake is a bit odd. The rest of the poem is below in case you don't want to look it up. We rarely hear an argument today against useless knowledge. You will recognise below the curiosity cabinets that were once very popular.  And a view of intellectual accomplishment in a world which found it new and suspicious.



He knew the various modes of ancient times, 

Their arts and fashions of each different guise,
Their weddings, funerals, punishments for crimes, 

Their strength, their learning eke, and rareties;
Of old habiliments, each sort and size,
Male, female, high and low, to him were known;
Each gladiator-dress, and stage disguise;
With learned, clerkly phrase he could have shown 

How the Greek tunic differ'd from the Roman gown.

A curious medalist, I wot, he was,
And boasted many a course of ancient coin; 

Well as his wife's he knewen every face,
From Julius Caesar down to Cons tan tine: 

For some rare sculptor he would oft ypine,
(As green-sick damosels for husbands do ;) 

And when obtained, with enraptur'd eyne,
He'd run it o'er and o'er with greedy view, 

And look, and look again, as he would look it thro'.
His rich museum, of dimensions fair, [fraught;
With goods that spoke the owner's mind was 

Things ancient, curious, value-worth, and rare,
From sea and land, from Greece and Rome were brought, 

Which he with mighty sums of gold had bought:
On these all tides with joyous eyes he por'd; 

And, sooth to say, himself he greater thought,
When he beheld his cabinets thus stor'd,
Than if he'd been of Albion's wealthy cities lord.
Here in a corner stood a rich scrutoire,
With many a curiosity replete;
In seemly order furnished every drawer,
Products of art or nature as was meet; 

Air-pumps and prisms were plac'd beneath his feet,
A Memphian mummy-king hung o'er his head; 

Here phials with live insects small and great,
There stood a tripod of the Pythian maid;
Above, a crocodile diffus'd a grateful shade.

Fast by the window did a table stand,
Where hodiern and antique rarities, [land,
From Egypt, Greece, and Rome, from sea and 

Were thick-besprent of every sort and size:
Here a Bahaman-spider's carcass lies,
There a dire serpent's golden skin doth shine;
Here Indian feathers, fruits, and glittering flies; 

There gums and amber found beneath the line, 

The beak of Ibis here, and there an Antonine.

Close at his back, or whispering in his ear,
There stood a spright ycleped Phantasy; 

Which, wheresoe'er he went, was always near:
Her look was wild, and roving was her eye; 

Her hair was clad with flowers of every dye;
Her glistering robes were of more various hue, 

Than the fair bow that paints the cloudy sky,
Or all the spangled drops of morning dew;
Their colour changing still at every different view.

Yet in this shape all tides she did not stay,
Various as the chameleon that she bore;
Now a grand monarch with a crown of hay,
Now mendicant in silks and golden ore:
A statesman, now equipp'd to chase the boar,
Or cowled monk, lean, feeble, and unfed;
A clown-like lord, or swain of courtly lore;
Now scribbling dunce in sacred laurel clad,
Or papal father now, in homely weeds array'd.


The wight whose brain this phantom's power doth fill,
On whom she doth with constant care attend,
Will for a dreadful giant take a mill,
Or a grand palace in a hogsty find:
(From her dire influence me may heaven defend !)
All things with vitiated sight he spies;
Neglects his family, forgets his friend,
Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys,
And eagerly pursues imaginary joys.