One of the things missing from your analysis, although it might not change it much, is the fact that there are few mysteries in the world: most things had explanations before they had true explanations. Part of the delight in discovery (being the only person who knows why the stars shine) is probably in knowing other people are wrong. Perhaps it’s more of a humorous delight (how silly that I am the only one who knows why the stars shine).
I think this applies to your analysis of the poet’s disenchantment too: really the poet laments the loss of a prior explanation (God’s handiwork or some other literary construct) rather than the lack of a mystery. In a real sense something has been stolen from the poet; before the scientist got his hands on the rainbow people genuinely turned to the poet for explanation (or at least edification; which they’ll take instead).
I often see people state, for example, that it’s ridiculous to suggest that Newton discovered gravity: gravity is obvious! Any fool can observe gravity with his own eyes! Yet the concept of gravity was completely alien to a world in which Aristotelian physics held sway. And while it’s not entirely accurate to say Newton “discovered gravity” (it was a cumulative discovery beginning with Kepler and Galileo); there was a time when gravity was unthinkable. There was a prevailing alternate theory (namely that certain objects moved toward their “home” at the center of the universe, others moved away, etc); it’s ignorance of that theory (and its sophistication) that leads us to think that gravity is/was obvious. Science is always a problem of overcoming some other non-scientific explanation.
In that sense I think there’s a very real adversary and being the first is a genuine triumph.
One of the things missing from your analysis, although it might not change it much, is the fact that there are few mysteries in the world: most things had explanations before they had true explanations. Part of the delight in discovery (being the only person who knows why the stars shine) is probably in knowing other people are wrong. Perhaps it’s more of a humorous delight (how silly that I am the only one who knows why the stars shine).
I think this applies to your analysis of the poet’s disenchantment too: really the poet laments the loss of a prior explanation (God’s handiwork or some other literary construct) rather than the lack of a mystery. In a real sense something has been stolen from the poet; before the scientist got his hands on the rainbow people genuinely turned to the poet for explanation (or at least edification; which they’ll take instead).
I often see people state, for example, that it’s ridiculous to suggest that Newton discovered gravity: gravity is obvious! Any fool can observe gravity with his own eyes! Yet the concept of gravity was completely alien to a world in which Aristotelian physics held sway. And while it’s not entirely accurate to say Newton “discovered gravity” (it was a cumulative discovery beginning with Kepler and Galileo); there was a time when gravity was unthinkable. There was a prevailing alternate theory (namely that certain objects moved toward their “home” at the center of the universe, others moved away, etc); it’s ignorance of that theory (and its sophistication) that leads us to think that gravity is/was obvious. Science is always a problem of overcoming some other non-scientific explanation.
In that sense I think there’s a very real adversary and being the first is a genuine triumph.