Transcriber Note

Text emphasis denoted as _Italics_.




[Illustration: FONTENELLE.]




                             CONVERSATIONS

                                ON THE

                        _PLURALITY OF WORLDS_.


                            ══════════════

                                  BY

                        BERNARD DE FONTENELLE,

           One of the Forty belonging to the French Academy;
               and Secretary to the Academy of Sciences.


                            ══════════════

                              WITH NOTES,

           AND A CRITICAL ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS,

                                  BY

                         _JEROME DE LA LANDE_,

             SENIOR DIRECTOR OF THE OBSERVATORY AT PARIS.


                            ══════════════

               Translated from a late Paris Edition, by

                        MISS ELIZABETH GUNNING.

                            ══════════════

                                London:

                    PRINTED BY J. CUNDEE, IVY-LANE;
                  SOLD BY T. HURST, PATERNOSTER-ROW.

                                 1803.





                           CRITICAL ACCOUNT

                                OF THE

                  _Life and Writings of the Author_,

                                  BY

                          JEROME DE LA LANDE.

                            ══════════════


Whenever I have entered into conversation with any sensible woman
on astronomy, I have always found that she had read Fontenelle's
Plurality of Worlds; and that his book had excited her curiosity on
the subject. As it has been so much read already, it must continue to
engage attention: I therefore thought it would be useful to point out
its faults; to add some observations, without which the reader would
be led into error with respect to the vortices; to make known the late
discoveries; and to shew what numbers, before our author, had written
on the plurality of worlds. But I have made no alterations in the text;
the reputation of Fontenelle renders him respectable, even in his
mistakes.

The Astronomy for Ladies, which I have published as a substitute for
this book, would be more instructive, but less amusing; therefore, as
it will be but little read, I shall endeavour to supply the defects of
Fontenelle's work, by adding to the original some ideas more exact than
his own.

M. Codrika has translated it into Greek, with explanations taken from
my Astronomy.

M. Bode has translated it into German; and his translation has already
gone through three editions: the last is that of 1798, Berlin, in
octavo, Bernard de Fontenelle, _Dialogen ueber die Mehrheit der
Welten_.

When Voltaire published, in 1738, his Essays on the Elements of Newton,
he began with these words: "Here is no Marchioness; no imaginary
philosophy." It was supposed that he here alluded to Fontenelle; this
he contradicts by saying: "so far from having his book in view, I
publicly declare that I consider it one of the best works that ever
were written." (Mem. de Trublet, p. 135).

This book has been printed a hundred times; the handsome edition of
Fontenelle's Works, in folio, published at the Hague in 1728,[1] with
figures by Bernard Pickart; the still more beautiful edition of the
Worlds alone, edited by Didot the younger, in 1797, in folio, are
master-pieces of typography; but in them nothing is found but the
original work; therefore I consider our edition far preferable.

[Footnote 1: That edition does not contain the account of the bees,
which is in the present edition.]

I shall here give a short account of the author of this work.

Bernard le Bovier[2] de Fontenelle was born at Bouen, February 11,
1657. He died January 9, 1757.

[Footnote 2: Lebeau writes the name le Bouyer, from the family name, in
the Mémoires de l'Académie des Inscriptions; but it is pronounced le
Bovier. (Mem. p. 19.)]

The first efforts of his genius were directed to poetry: at the age of
thirteen he had composed a Latin poem: about the year 1683 he devoted
himself to literature and philosophy. In 1699 he began l'Historie de
l'Académie des Sciences, which he continued with great success during
forty-two years. Few persons have contributed more to the progress of
the sciences than he has done, by accommodating them to every capacity,
and inspiring by his panegyrics, a love of study. For my part, I feel
a pleasure in acknowledging that I am indebted to him for the germ of
that insatiable activity of mind I have experienced ever since the
age of sixteen. I could find nothing in the world like the Academy of
Sciences, and ardently wished for the happiness of seeing it, long
before I had any idea of the possibility of one day belonging to it.

In 1727 he published his Elemens de la Géométrie de l'infini; this
was merely the amusement of a man of genius who had heard a little of
geometry, and chose to hazard his opinions on the subject.

We may find an eulogium on our author in l'Historie de l'Académie des
Sciences for 1757, in the Mémoires de l'Académie des Belles-Lettres,
and in a work written entirely on the subject, published by Trublet in
the year 1761, entitled Mémoires pour servir à l'Historie de la vie
et des Ouvrages de Fontenelle. In these memoirs a particular critique
shews us the various merits of Fontenelle's works: there is also an
article by Trublet in the edition of Moréri, published in 1759.

I have remarked in the twentieth book of my Astronomy, that in every
period of time it has been believed that the planets were inhabited, on
account of their resemblance to the earth. The idea of the plurality
of worlds is expressed in the Orphics, those ancient Grecian poems
attributed to Orpheus (_Plut. de Placitis Philosoph. l. 2, cap. 13_.)
Proclus has preserved some verses in which we find that the writer
of the Orphics places mountains, men, and cities in the moon. The
Pythagoreans, such as Philolaüs, Hicetas, Heraclides, taught that the
stars were all worlds. Several ancient philosophers even admitted an
infinity of worlds beyond the reach of our sight. Epicurus, Lucretius,
and all the Epicureans were of the same opinion; and Metrodorus thought
it as absurd to imagine but one world in the immensity of space, as to
say that only one ear of corn could grow in a great extent of country.
Zeno of Eleusis, Anaximenes, Anaximander, Leucippus, Democritus,
asserted the same thing: in short, there were some philosophers who,
although they did not consider the rest of the planets inhabited,
placed inhabitants in the moon; such were Anaxagorus, Xenophanes,
Lucian, Plutarch, (_De Oracular. defectu. De Facie in orbe Lunæ_,)
Eusebius, Stobius. We may see a long list of the ancients who have
treated on the subject, in Fabricius, (_Biblio. Græcæ, t. 1. cap.
20_.) and in the Mémoire de Bonamy (Acad. des Inscriptions, tom. ix.)
Hevelius appeared as firmly persuaded of this opinion in 1647, when he
talked of the difference between the inhabitants of the two hemispheres
of the moon: he calls them _selenitæ_, and examines at length all
the phœnomena observed in their planet, after the example of Kepler
(_Astron. Lunaris_.) It was maintained at Oxford, in certain themes
which are mentioned in the News of the Republic of Letters, June 1784,
that the system of Pythagoras on the inhabitants of the moon was well
founded: two years afterwards Fontenelle discussed this subject in his
agreeable work. There are farther details of the different astronomical
opinions at the end of Gregory's book. For the objections, we may refer
to Riccioli. (_Almagestum, tom. 1, p. 188, 204_). In 1686 the Plurality
of Worlds was adorned by Fontenelle with all the beauties of which a
philosophical work was susceptible. Huygens (who died in 1695) in his
book entitled Cosmothéoros, published in 1698, likewise enters largely
into the subject.

The resemblance between the earth and the other planets is so striking,
that if we allow the earth to have been formed for habitation, we
cannot deny that the planets were made for the same purpose; for if
there is, in the nature of things, a connection between the earth and
the men who inhabit it, a similar connexion must exist between the
planets and beings who inhabit them.

We see six planets around the sun, the earth is the third; they all
move in elliptical orbits; they have all a rotatory motion like the
earth, as well as spots, irregularities, mountains: some of them have
satellites, the earth has one satellite: Jupiter is flattened like our
world; in short there is every possible resemblance between the planets
and the earth: is it, then, rational to suppose the existence of living
and thinking beings is confined to the earth? From what is such a
privilege derived but the groveling minds of persons who can never rise
above the objects of their immediate sensations?

Lambert believed that even the comets were inhabited. (Systême du
Monde, Bouillon; 1770.) Buffon determines the period when each
planet became habitable, and when it will cease to be so, from its
refrigeration. (Suplèmens, in 4to. tom. 11.) What I have said of
planets that turn round the sun, will naturally extend to all the
planetary systems which environ the fixed stars; every star being an
immoveable and luminous body, having light in itself, may properly
be compared with our sun. We must conclude that if our sun serves to
attract and enlighten the planets which surround it, the fixed stars
have the same use. It is thought that the sun and fixed stars are
uninhabitable because they are composed of fire; yet M. Knight, in a
work written to explain all the phœnomena of nature, by attraction and
repulsion, endeavours to prove that the sun and stars may be habitable
worlds, and that the people in them may possibly suffer from extreme
cold. M. Herschel likewise thinks the sun is inhabited (Philos. Trans.
179. p. 155, et suiv.)

Some timid, superstitious writers have reprobated this system, as
contrary to religion: they little knew how to promote the glory of
their Creator. If the immensity of his works announce his power, can
any idea be more calculated than this to exhibit their magnificence and
sublimity? We see with the naked eye, several thousands of stars; in
every part of the firmament we discover with telescopes, innumerable
others; with more perfect telescopes, we still find a multitude more.
We compute, from the number seen through Herschel's telescopes in one
region of the sky, that there are a hundred millions. Imagination
pierces beyond the extent of vision, beholding multitudes of unknown
worlds, infinitely more in number than those which are visible to our
sight; and ranges unrestrained in the boundless space of creation.

Our only difficulty with respect to the inhabitants of so many millions
of planets, is the obscurity of the final causes, which it is difficult
to admit when we see into what errors the greatest philosophers have
fallen; for instance Fermat, Leibnitz, Maupertius, &c. in attempting
to employ these final causes or metaphysical suppositions of imagined
relations between effects that we see and the causes we assign them, or
the ends for which we believe them to exist.

If the plurality of worlds be admitted without difficulty; if the
planets are believed to be inhabited, it is because the earth is
considered merely as a habitation for man, from which it is inferred
that were the planets uninhabited they would be useless: but I
will venture to assert that such a mode of reasoning is confined,
unphilosophic, and at the same time, presumptuous. What are we in
comparison of the universe? Do we know the extent, the properties, the
destination, and the connexions of nature? Is our existence, formed
as we are, of a few frail atoms, to be considered any thing when we
think of the greatness of the whole? Can _we_ add to the perfection
and grandeur of the universe? These ideas are expressed by Saussure,
who in speaking of a traveller to Mont-blanc says: "if, during his
meditations, the thought of the insignificant beings that move on the
face of the earth offers itself to his mind, if he compares their
duration with the grand epochs of nature, how great will be his
astonishment that man, occupying so small a space, existing so short
a time, can ever imagine that his being is the only end for which the
universe was created."

From these considerations d'Alembert, in the Encyclopedia, (art. World)
after examining the arguments for supposing the planets inhabited,
concludes by saying: _the subject is enveloped in total obscurity_.

But Buffon affirms that wherever there is a certain degree of heat, the
motion produces organized beings; we need not enquire in what way, but
imagine these to be the inhabitants of the planets: if that should be
the case, we may conclude it highly probable that they are inhabited,
notwithstanding the preceding objections.

                                                            _LA LANDE._

1802.




                        _LINES ON FONTENELLE._

                            [Illustration]


          Muse! if thou canst, this picture's truth excel;
          Strive to pourtray the _soul_ of Fontenelle:
          Him, to whose works, with wit and judgment warm,
          Indulgent Nature, gave a magic charm.--
          'Twas his to strew with flowers the toilsome road,
          Which leads to Science in her dark abode;
          And while he touch'd the pastoral reed, to prove,
          That courtly pomp, must yield to rural love.
          A Lucian rising from the silent tomb,
          'Twas his, to pierce through Error's doubtful gloom;
          And, with resistless eye, at once to dart
          Full on the hidden secrets of the heart.--
          Union divine!--in Fontenelle we find
          A glowing genius, and a gentle mind!




                               _PREFACE_

                                  BY

                        BERNARD DE FONTENELLE.


_I find myself nearly in the situation of Cicero, when he undertook to
write in his own language on philosophical subjects, that, till then,
had never been treated of but in Greek. He tells us that his works
were said to be useless, because those who delighted in philosophy,
having taken the pains to study the books written in Greek, would not
afterwards think of examining his Latin ones, which were not originals;
and that persons who had no taste for philosophy, would neither care
for the Greek nor the Latin._

_To which he answers, that exactly the contrary would happen; that the
unlearned would be allured to philosophy by the facility of reading
Latin works; and that the well-informed, after studying the Greek
authors, would be pleased to see how the subjects were handled in
Latin._

_Cicero might with propriety speak in this manner; his superior genius
and great celebrity assured him success in this untried project, but
I have not the same advantages to inspire me with confidence, in a
similar undertaking. I was desirous of representing philosophy in a
way that was not philosophical; I have attempted to compose a book that
shall neither be too abstruse for the gay, nor too amusive for the
learned. But if what was said to Cicero should be repeated to me, I
could not venture to answer as he did: possibly in attempting to find
a middle way which would accommodate philosophy to every class, I have
chosen one that will not be agreeable to any. It is very difficult to
maintain a medium, and I think I shall never be inclined to make a
second attempt of this nature._

_I should warn those that have some knowledge of natural philosophy,
that I do not suppose this book capable of giving them any information;
it will merely afford them some amusement, by presenting in a lively
manner what they have already become acquainted with by dint of study.
I would also inform those who are ignorant of these subjects that it
has been my design to amuse and instruct them at the same time: the
former will counteract my intention if they here expect improvement,
and the latter, if they here only seek for entertainment._

_I need not say that of all philosophical subjects I have chosen that
which is most calculated to excite curiosity: surely nothing ought to
interest us more than to know how our own world is formed; and whether
there be other worlds similar to it, and inhabited in the same way: but
let no one be disquieted if unable to answer these enquiries; they who
have time to spare may examine such subjects; many have it not in their
power._

_In these Conversations I have represented a woman receiving
information on things with which she was entirely unacquainted. I
thought this fiction would enable me to give the subject more ornament,
and would encourage the female sex in the pursuit of knowledge, by the
example of a woman who though ignorant of the sciences, is capable of
understanding all she is told, and arranging in her ideas the worlds
and vortices. Why should any woman allow the superiority of this
imaginary Marchioness, who only believes what she could not avoid
understanding?_

_'Tis true, she gives some attention to the subject, but what sort of
attention is requisite? Not such as will laboriously penetrate into an
obscure thing, or a thing that is spoken of in an obscure manner; it is
needful only to read with sufficient application to render the ideas
familiar. Women may understand this system of philosophy by giving it
as much attention as they would bestow on the Princess of Cleves, in
order to understand the story and see all the beauties of the work. I
do not deny that the ideas contained in this book are less familiar to
the generality of females than those in the Princess of Cleves, but
they are not more abstruse, and I am convinced that on a second perusal
they would be perfectly understood._

_As I did not wish to establish an imaginary system that had no
foundation, I have employed true philosophical arguments, and as many
of them as were necessary to establish my opinions; but fortunately the
ideas connected with natural philosophy are in themselves beautiful,
and whilst they satisfy the understanding, give as much pleasure as if
formed only to charm the imagination._

_To such parts of my subjects as did not possess these beauties
I have given extraneous ornaments; Virgil has done this in his
Georgics, where he renders a dry subject interesting by frequent and
agreeable digressions: Ovid likewise in his Art of Love has pursued
the same plan, although the matter of his poem was far more pleasing
than any thing he could add to it: he seems to think it tiresome to
speak constantly of one subject--even of love. I have more need of
embellishments than he, yet I have used them sparingly. I have only
given such as the freedom of conversation authorised; I have only
placed them in parts that I thought required them; I have inserted most
of them in the commencement of the work to accustom the mind by degrees
to the objects I wish to present to its attention, in short, I have
derived them from my subject, or formed them as much as possible to
resemble my subject._

_I did not venture to give any opinions on the inhabitants of the
different worlds, since they must have been entirely chimerical; I
have endeavoured to express all that might reasonably be imagined,
and even the conjectures that are added are not without foundation.
Truth and fiction are in some measure blended, but always so as to be
distinguishable from each other: I do not undertake to justify such a
composition; the union of philosophy and amusement is the chief aim of
this work, but I know not whether I have adopted the right method._

_It only remains for me now to address one class of persons; they are
perhaps the most difficult to satisfy, not because my reasoning is
inconclusive, but because they feel themselves privileged to disregard
the best arguments: I am speaking of scrupulous people who may imagine
religion is endangered by placing inhabitants any where but on the
earth. I respect even an excessive scrupulosity when it arises from
piety, nor would I willingly hurt the feelings of any one from whom I
differed: but by rectifying a little error of the imagination we shall
find that this objection cannot affect my system of giving inhabitants
to an infinite number of worlds. When you are told that the moon is
peopled, you immediately figure to yourself men like ourselves, and
then a variety of theological difficulties occur. The posterity of
Adam cannot have colonized the moon; therefore the inhabitants of that
planet are not descendants of our first parents; now it would be a
difficult point in theology to account for the existence of men who had
any other ancestor. No more need be said; every imaginable difficulty
is included in this, and the expressions that would be necessary for a
more full explanation are too worthy of reverence to be employed in a
work containing so little of the serious as this. The objection then
turns on the existence of men in the moon, but it is the objectors
themselves who talk of men as its inhabitants; I have asserted no such
thing: I say there are inhabitants, and I likewise say they may not at
all resemble us. What are they then?--I have never seen them; I do not
speak from acquaintance with them._

_Do not consider it a subterfuge, to rid myself of the objection,
when I affirm that the moon is not peopled by men; you will see that
according to the idea I entertain of the endless diversity of the works
of nature, it is impossible such beings as we, should be placed there.
This opinion is supported throughout the book, and it is an opinion
which no philosopher can deny: I think, therefore, on this ground, the
following conversations will be objected to only by those who have
never read them. But will this consideration suffice to deliver me
from the fear of censure? No; it rather gives me cause to apprehend
objections from every side._

                                                          _FONTENELLE._




                             CONVERSATIONS

                                ON THE

                        _PLURALITY OF WORLDS_.


TO MR. L----.

You desire me, dear Sir, to give you a particular account of the manner
in which my time has been spent whilst at the Marchioness of G--'s[3]
in the country. To obey your injunctions strictly, I shall be obliged
to fill a volume, and what is still more formidable, a volume of
philosophy.

[Footnote 3: The lady here mentioned was Madame de la Mesangire of
Rouen. She was a beautiful brunette; but in compliance with her desire
to be concealed, the author has spoken of her in the following pages,
as having a fair complexion. The park belonging to her residence, is
described in the "First Evening."]

You expect to be entertained with a history of splendid feasts,
hunting, and card-parties; and you will hear of nothing, but planets,
worlds, and vortexes:[4] for the discussion of these latter subjects,
formed our principal amusement. Fortunately _you_ are a philosopher,
therefore I have the less reason to dread raillery from such a quarter;
on the reverse, I may even hope for your congratulations, on having
rendered the Marchioness sensible to the charms of philosophy: we could
not have made a more valuable acquisition; for youth and beauty, in
every cause holds such power, that if wisdom herself were desirous of
being welcomed by mortals, and would assume the form of this lovely
woman, surely with such an exterior, and such fascinating eloquence,
she could not fail to attract every heart.

[Footnote 4: The Vortexes of Descartes, occupied the attention of the
learned, for nearly a century; but this hypothesis was superceded by
a discovery of the laws of attraction. Although Newton's famous book
on principles was published in 1687, Fontenelle always retained his
educational prejudice in favour of the Vortexes. A few years before his
death, he consulted me on a little work he had some time since composed
on the subject. I endeavoured to dissuade him from making it public;
but Falconet was afterwards weak enough to do so. The book is entitled
"Theory of the Cartesian Vortexes, with Reflections on Attraction." The
author's name was never affixed to the work.]

Notwithstanding all this, you must not expect to be transported with
admiration, whilst I repeat the conversations I have held with her
ladyship: my genius should be equal with her's, to relate what she
said, in her own delightful manner. Conscious of inability, I must
relinquish the attempt, and leave you to discern through the recital,
that rapidity of apprehension, which characterizes the mind of the
Marchioness. From the wonderful quickness with which she comprehends
the most abstruse subjects, I consider her already learned: at least,
I may be allowed to say, that after a little study, she might attain
the heights of science; when many, who spend their lives amid the dull
disputes of vast libraries, remain for ever in the deepest ignorance.

Before I recount our various conversations, perhaps you may expect some
description of their scene; some picture of the romantic country, under
whose shades the Marchioness is enjoying the autumn. If so, you will be
disappointed: so many people have exercised their talents on this gay
species of writing, that I shall dispense with the ceremony, and merely
say, that on my arrival I had the pleasure of finding myself the only
visitor.

The two first days were passed in relating the news of Paris, which
I had just quitted. When that subject was exhausted, an evening walk
in the park, suggested the discussion of those learned topics, the
commencement of which you will find in the next page.




                          _FIRST EVENING._[5]

[Footnote 5: This first book has been translated into a variety of
languages; it is the best eclogue that has been composed in the last
fifty years: the descriptions and imagery it contains are perfectly
suited to the style of pastoral poetry; indeed many of the images would
not have disgraced the pen of a Virgil.

                           _Dubos. Reflections on Poetry and Painting._
]


                              ═══════════

THE EARTH IS A PLANET WHICH TURNS ON ITS AXIS, AND GOES ROUND THE SUN.

                              ═══════════


After supper we went to take a walk in the park. We felt the fragrant
breeze of evening peculiarly delightful, as the heat had been intense
during the day: the silvery rays of the moon, gleaming through the
foliage, formed an agreeable contrast with the darkened shadows of
the landscape. Not a cloud intercepted or veiled the smallest star.
Every orb appeared a mass of pure gold, rendered more brilliant by
the rich blue of the sky. The beauty of the scenery produced a gentle
reverie, from which, had not the Marchioness been with me, I should
not have been easily roused; but in the company of so interesting a
woman I could not long abandon myself to the influence of the moon
and stars. Do you not think, said I, addressing myself to her, that
the charms of a fine night greatly exceed those of the day? Yes, she
replied, the splendour of day resembles a fair and dazzling beauty,
but the milder radiance of night may be compared to a woman of less
brilliancy of complexion, and more sweetness of expression. You are
very generous, resumed I, in giving the preference to the brunette,
whilst you are so fair. It is however true, that an unclouded sun
is the most glorious object in nature; and it is equally true, that
the heroines of romance, the most beautiful objects imagination can
depict, have almost invariably been represented with fair complexions.
Beauty, answered my companion, is nothing, unless it interests our
feelings. You will not deny that the finest day never had the power of
inspiring so delightful a reverie as you were falling into just now in
contemplating the loveliness of the evening. You are right, said I, but
the loveliest night I ever beheld, with all it's shadowy beauty, would
fail to give me such enchanting sensations as the contemplation of the
fair face of the Marchioness de G----. I should not be satisfied with
your compliment, she replied, did I even believe you sincere, since the
brightness of day, with which we have been comparing fair women, has
so little influence on your heart. Why do lovers, who undoubtedly can
judge of what is most touching, address all their poetic effusions to
the night? To the ear of day they neither confide their transports nor
their sorrows--why is it so entirely excluded from their confidence?
Probably, I answered, because it is not calculated to inspire that
delicious sentiment, at once impassioned and melancholy, which we feel
in the stillness of night, whilst all nature seems to repose. The stars
appear to move with more silent progress than the sun: every object
that decorates the heavens is soft, and attractive to the eye: in
short, we resign ourselves more easily to reverie because we feel as
if no other being was at that time enjoying the pensive pleasure that
expands our soul. Perhaps, too, the uniformity of day, in which the sky
presents no other object than the sun, is less favourable to the wild
and pleasing illusions of fancy than the view of innumerable stars,
scattered with sportive irregularity, over the boundless space. I have
always felt what you describe, said she, I love to see the stars, and
am almost inclined to reproach the sun for hiding them. Ah! cried I, I
cannot forgive him for concealing so many worlds from my sight! Worlds!
she exclaimed, turning to me with surprise, what do you mean? Forgive
me, said I, you touched the wildest chord of my imagination--I forget
myself in a romantic idea. And what is this romantic idea? enquired
the Marchioness. Ah! replied I, I am half ashamed of owning it:--I
have taken it in my head that every star may be a world. I would not
positively assert the truth of my opinion, but I believe it because it
affords me pleasure; it has possessed my mind with irresistible force;
and I consider pleasure a needful accessary to truth. Well, said she,
since your whim is such a pleasant one, make me a partaker of it; I'll
believe any thing you chuse about the stars, provided it contributes
to my happiness. Ah! madam, I replied, 'tis not such an enjoyment as
you would find in seeing one of Molière's comedies: it is an idea which
can only give delight to the understanding. What! exclaimed she, do you
think I am not susceptible of pleasures which depend only on reason? I
will convince you of your mistake. Teach me your system. No, answered
I, I will not subject myself to the reproach of having talked of
philosophy, in such an enchanting walk as this, to the most interesting
woman of my acquaintance. No, seek for pedants elsewhere.

For a long while I attempted, in vain, to excuse myself; I was at last
obliged to yield: I insisted, however, for my reputation's sake, on a
promise of secrecy. Every objection being removed, I wished to begin
the subject, but found the commencement extremely difficult; for, with
a person who was ignorant of natural philosophy, it was necessary to
converse in a very circuitous manner, to prove that the earth was a
planet, the other planets similar to the earth, and all the stars so
many suns which enlightened a number of worlds. I once more assured her
it would be much better to talk on such trifles as other people, in our
situation, would amuse themselves with. In the end, however, to give
her a general idea of philosophy, I pursued the following plan.

All philosophy, said I, is founded on two things; an inquisitive mind,
and defective sight; for if your eyes could discern every thing to
perfection you would easily perceive whether each star is a sun, giving
light to a number of worlds; on the other hand, had you less curiosity,
you would hardly take the trouble to inform yourself about the matter,
and consequently remain in equal ignorance; but the difficulty consists
in our wanting to become acquainted with more than we see: besides, it
is out of our power to understand much of what is even within the reach
of our sight, because objects appear to us very different from what
they are. Thus philosophers pass their lives in disbelieving what they
see, and endeavouring to conjecture what is concealed from them; such a
state of mind is not very enviable.

In thinking on this subject, nature always appears to me in the same
point of view as theatrical representations. In the situation you
occupy at the opera you do not see the whole of its arrangements:
the machinery and decorations are so disposed as to produce an
agreeable effect at a distance, and at the same time the weights and
wheels are hidden by which every motion is effected. You behold all
that is passing, without concerning yourself about the causes; and
so perhaps do all the other spectators, unless among the number some
obscure student of mechanics is puzzling himself to account for an
extraordinary motion which he cannot understand. You see the case of
this mechanical genius resembles that of the philosopher studying the
structure of the universe. What, however, augments the difficulty
with respect to philosophers is, that nature so conceals from us the
means by which her scenery is produced, that for a long time we were
unable to discover the causes of her most simple movements. Figure
yourself, as spectators of an opera, the Pythagorases, the Platos,
the Aristotles; all these men whose names are so celebrated. Let us
suppose them viewing the flight of Phæton, rising on the wind; ignorant
at the same time of the construction of the theatre, and the cords
by which the figure is put in motion. One to explain the phenomenon,
says, _it is some hidden virtue in Phæton which causes him to rise_;
another replies, _Phæton is composed of certain numbers which produce
his elevation_. A third says, _Phæton has a love for the top of
the stage; he is uneasy at any other part_. The fourth thinks, _it
is not essential to the nature of Phæton to rise in the air, but he
prefers flying up to leaving a vacuum at the top of the stage_. Such
were the ridiculous notions of the ancient philosophers, which to my
astonishment have not ruined the reputation of antiquity. After all
Descartes and some other moderns appear: they tell you that _Phæton
rises in consequence of being drawn by cords, fastened to a descending
weight, which is heavier than himself_. It is no longer believed that
a body can have motion, unless acted upon by another body; that it
can rise and descend without a counterbalancing weight; thus, whoever
examines the mechanism of nature is only going behind the scenes of
a theatre. If that be the case, answered the Marchioness, philosophy
is a very mechanical affair! So much so, I replied, that I am afraid
it will fall into disrepute. In short, the universe is but a watch on
a larger scale; all its motions depending on determined laws and the
mutual relation of its parts. Confess the truth, have you not hitherto
entertained a more exalted idea of the works of nature? Have you not
considered them with more veneration than they deserve? I have known
some people esteem them less as their knowledge encreased. For my part,
said she, I contemplate the universe with more awful delight now I
find that such wonderful order is produced by principles so simple.

I know not, rejoined I, how you have acquired such rational ideas,
for, to say the truth, they are not very common. The generality are
affected only by the obscure and marvellous. They admire nature merely
because they consider it a sort of magic; something too occult for the
understanding to reach: to them a thing appears contemptible as soon as
they find the possibility of explaining its nature: but you, madam, can
reason so clearly, that I have only to draw aside the veil, and present
the world to your inspection.

What we behold at the greatest distance from our earth is the azure
heaven, that immense arch to which the stars seem firmly to adhere.
They are called fixed, because they appear to have no other motion than
that of their sky, carrying them from east to west. Between the earth
and the remote firmament are suspended, at various distances, the sun,
moon, and the other five stars, denominated planets; Mercury, Venus,
Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.[6] These planets not being stationary at one
point in the heavens, but having unequal motions, vary with respect
to their relative situations; the fixed stars, on the contrary, always
bear the same local relation to each other. The chariot, for instance,
that you may distinguish, formed of those seven stars, has always had
that configuration, and is likely to retain it; but the moon sometimes
approaches nearer to the sun; sometimes retreats farther from it; the
same is observed of the other planets. Such were the observations made
by the Chaldean shepherds whose continual leisure enabled them to give
so much attention to the heavenly bodies as to form the rudiments of
astronomy, for we learn that that science took its rise in Chaldea,[7]
as Geometry was first studied in Egypt, where the inundations of the
Nile destroyed the boundaries of different possessions, made the
inhabitants desirous of exact measures by which they could again
separate their own lands from those of their neighbours. Thus astronomy
is the offspring of idleness, geometry of interest; and if we enquire
into the origin of poetry, we shall probably find that she is the
daughter of love.

[Footnote 6: In 1781, M. Herschel discovered a sixth. Astronomy by
Lalande, third edition, 1792, Vol. 1, Art. 116.]

[Footnote 7: Perhaps in Ethiopia. Astronomy, Art. 260.]

I am glad, said the Marchioness, you have given me this genealogy of
the sciences; astronomy is the only one that will suit me: geometry,
according to your account of it, requires a more selfish heart than
mine; and I have not susceptibility enough to attempt poetry with
success; I have, however, as much leisure as can be needful for the
study of astronomy; it is another favourable circumstance that we are
in the country, leading a pastoral life. Do not mistake madam, answered
I, talking of planets and fixed stars is not all that constitutes a
pastoral life. Was the conversation of the shepherds, in the golden
age, confined to astronomy? Ah, said she, but it would be dangerous to
conform one's mode of life to their's. No, that of the other shepherds
you mention appears preferable to me; therefore let us converse, if you
please, in the Chaldean style. After this disposition of the stars was
remarked, what followed? The next thing, I replied, was to imagine the
arrangement of the different parts of the universe; that is what the
learned call making a system. But before I explain to you the first
of these systems, give me leave to premise that we are all naturally
disposed to the same sort of madness as a certain Athenian of whom you
have heard, who had taken it in his head that every vessel which went
into the port of Pyreum belonged to him. We chuse to believe that every
thing in creation is destined to our service; and when we enquire of
some philosophers the use of such a prodigious number of fixed stars,
of which a smaller proportion would have been sufficient for all the
offices they appear to perform; they coolly answer, they were made to
gratify our sight. On this selfish principle it was for a long time
supposed that the earth was motionless in the midst of the universe,
whilst all the heavenly bodies were created for the sole purpose of
journeying round, and distributing their light to her. Next to the
earth they placed the moon, after the moon, Mercury, then Venus, the
Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn; beyond all these the firmament of fixed
stars. It was imagined that the earth was stationed exactly in the
middle of the circles described by these planets which extended in
proportion to their distance from the earth, and that consequently
the most remote planets required a longer time to perform their
revolutions, which certainly is true. But, interrupted the Marchioness,
I can't see why you should disapprove such an arrangement of the
universe, it appears to me sufficiently commodious and intelligible, I
really feel quite satisfied with it. I have taken pains, answered I,
to represent this system in the most favourable point of view; if I
were to explain it exactly as it was conceived by Ptolemy the author of
it, and his disciples, you would be quite shocked. As the motions of
the planets are irregular, being sometimes quicker, sometimes slower;
going sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another; now nearer to
the earth, then at a greater distance from it; the ancients figured
to themselves an endless number of circles intersecting each other, by
which they endeavoured to understand the great variety of movements.
The confusion, however, caused by such an infinity of circles was so
perplexing that, at the time no better system was known, one of the
kings of Castile,[8] a profound mathematician, was daring enough to
say, that if the supreme Being had consulted him when he created the
world, he would have given him some good advice. We are filled with
horror at the impiety of this expression, but it serves to shew us how
absurd must have been the hypothesis which could prompt it. The advice
this man wished to have given, undoubtedly regarded the suppression
of so many circles, which did but prevent the planetary motions from
being understood. Probably he would likewise have expunged from the
system two or three superfluous firmaments, supposed to be above the
fixed stars. The philosophers, to explain some particular motion of
the heavenly bodies, placed, beyond the heaven that bounds our view,
a sky of crystal, which communicated this motion to the lower sky.
Was a new movement discovered? they had nothing to do but to form
a second crystal firmament. In short skies of crystal were made
without any trouble. Why did they always chuse crystal? enquired the
Marchioness; would nothing else have answered the purpose as well? No,
answered I, it was necessary to have a substance, at once transparent
and solid, for it was Aristotle's opinion that solidity was essential
to the dignity of their nature, and as this was believed by a great
man, nobody thought of doubting it. But since that time comets have
been seen which, being higher than was formerly imagined, must have
broken all the crystal of these skies, in passing through them, and by
that mean, thrown the universe into confusion; it was therefore found
necessary to change the matter of which these firmaments were composed,
into a fluid, such as air.

[Footnote 8: Alphonsus, king of Castile died in 1284.]

It is now discovered with certainty, by the researches of later ages,
that Venus and Mercury turn round the Sun, and not round the earth,
on this subject the ancient system is absolutely exploded. I will
now acquaint you with another which provides for every difficulty,
one that does not require any amendments of the king of Castile,
for its simplicity is so charming that one cannot refuse to believe
it. Yours, interrupted the Marchioness, seems a sort of bargaining
philosophy; whoever offers a system that is effected at the least
expense, has the preference. 'Tis true, said I; we have no other
chance of understanding the plan by which the operations of nature
are carried on. Nature is a wonderful economist; if a work is to be
effected, and two ways are practicable, we may be sure she will adopt
that which costs her the least, however trifling the difference.
This economy is notwithstanding in every respect consistent with
the surprising magnificence which appears in all her productions.
Magnificence is employed in the design, and frugality in the execution
of it. Nothing should excite our admiration so much as a stupendous
project effected by simple means: but we are apt to cherish ideas
of a very different kind. We place the frugality in the designs of
nature, and her grandeur in the execution. We imagine her forming a
contracted plan, and executing it with ten times the labour that is
requisite: what can be so ridiculous? I hope, she replied, that the
system you are going to explain will strictly imitate nature; the
simplicity you so admire will spare me a great deal of trouble in
comprehending your instructions. Your hope will be realized, said I,
we have now no useless incumbrances. At the appearance of a certain
German named Copernicus,[9] astronomy became simplified; he destroyed
all the unnecessary circles, and crushed to pieces the crystalline
firmaments.[10] Animated with philosophic enthusiasm, he dislodged the
earth from the central situation which had been assigned it, and in its
room placed the sun, who was more worthy of such a mark of distinction.
The planets were no longer supposed to perform their revolutions round
the earth, and enclose it in the centre of their orbits. If they afford
us light it is as it were by chance, and in consequence of passing
us in their course. They all turn around the sun; the earth itself
not excepted; and as a punishment for the indolent repose it had been
thought to enjoy, Copernicus made it take an ample share of the general
activity: in short of all these celestial attendants, appointed for the
service of our little globe, the moon alone is left to move round it.
Stop a moment, said the Marchioness, your imagination is so elevated
with your subject, you have explained it in such pompous language,
that I believe I have scarcely understood you. The sun, you say, is
immoveable in the centre of the universe; which of the planets is
next in succession? 'Tis Mercury, I replied. Mercury goes regularly
round the Sun in nearly a circular orbit, of which that luminary is
the central point. Next to Mercury is Venus, which turns in the same
manner round the Sun. Afterwards comes the Earth, and being higher
than Mercury and Venus, describes a larger circle round the Sun than
either of those planets. Then follow Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, in the
order I have named them; thus you see the circle of Saturn must be the
most extensive of all; it likewise requires a longer time than the
other planets to perform its revolution. But, exclaimed she, you have
forgotten the moon. I shall recollect it presently, said I; the moon
never abandons the earth, but is constantly going round it; but as the
earth is continually moving onwards in a circle round the sun, the
moon at once follows its motion, and revolves round it; this attendant
planet, therefore only goes round the sun in consequence of invariably
continuing near to the earth.

[Footnote 9: He was born in 1472, at Thorn, in Prussia Royal: he died
in 1543.]

[Footnote 10: Several of the ancients were of opinion that we should
admit the motion of the earth. Astron. Art. 1075.]

I understand you, said she, and I love the moon for remaining attached
to us when we were forsaken by all the other planets. Confess that
if your German could have alienated that too, he would have done it
without regret; for one may see, in every part of his hypothesis, that
he was but little inclined to favour the earth. He did well, I replied,
to humble the vanity of men who chuse to claim the best situation in
the universe; 'tis with pleasure I consider the world mixing in the
crowd of planets. Pshaw! cried the Marchioness; do you think vanity
can have any thing to do with a system of astronomy? Do you suppose I
feel humbler for knowing that the earth goes round the sun? I assure
you I esteem myself just as highly as I did before. Certainly, madam,
I answered, men would be less concerned about the rank they held in
the universe than that they enjoyed amongst their associates; neither
would the disputes of two planets, for precedence, be so important
in their judgement as those of two ambassadors. Nevertheless, the
same disposition which induces a man of the world to aspire after the
most honourable place in a room, will make a philosopher desirous of
placing the globe on which he lives in the most distinguished situation
in the universe. He likes to consider every thing made for his use;
he encourages, without being aware of his vanity, so flattering an
opinion, and his heart becomes deeply engaged about an affair of
mere speculation. Upon my word, she exclaimed, you are calumniating
human nature--how happened it that the opinions of Copernicus were
received, since they are so very humiliating? Copernicus, answered I,
was himself very doubtful of the reception they would meet with: it
was a long while before he could resolve to publish his system; at
last, however, he yielded to the entreaty of several distinguished
characters; but what do you think was the consequence?--on the day they
took him the first printed copy of his book, he died: so he made use
of the shortest way to escape from all the contradictions he had been
anticipating.

Listen to me, said the Marchioness: let us be just to every body:
it certainly is difficult to imagine we turn round the sun, for we
never change places; we rise in the morning where we went to rest at
night----I see from your look that you are going to tell me, that as
the earth moves altogether----. Assuredly, said I, it is the same thing
as going to sleep in a boat which was sailing down a river; on waking,
you would find yourself in the same boat, and in the same part of the
boat. Yes, replied she, but here is a difference; when I awoke I should
find an alteration in the shore, and that would prove that the boat had
changed its place: it is not so with respect to the earth, I there find
every thing as I left it. No, no, madam, you may observe an alteration
in the shore, as you do in the boat: you will recollect that beyond
all the planets are the fixed stars, these are what we must consider
the objects on the shore. I am on the earth; the earth describes a
large circle round the sun; when I look to the middle of this circle
I find the sun, and were not its brightness so dazzling as to render
the stars invisible, I should constantly see, by looking beyond the
centre, some of the fixed stars opposite to the sun; by viewing them
however at night, I can easily determine how they were situated in
the day, which renders my observations equally accurate. If the earth
remained in the same place I should always find the same fixed stars
answering to the situation of the sun, but as the earth moves on in her
orbit, I necessarily see other fixed stars at the point which I had
before examined. Such is our shore, which is every day varying; and
as the earth goes round the sun in a year, I observe the sun, during
that space of time, successively answering to different fixed stars
which compose a circle; this circle is called the Zodiac; shall I shew
it you by tracing a figure on the earth? No, said she, I can dispense
with that; it would give my park too learned an appearance. I think I
have heard that a philosopher, shipwrecked on an island with which he
was unacquainted, cried out to his companions on perceiving some lines
and circles drawn on the sand; _courage, my friends! the island is
inhabited; here are the footsteps of men_. You must consider that such
_footsteps_ ought not to be seen here.

It would certainly, I replied be more in character, to trace only
the footsteps of lovers; that is to say, your name, engraved by your
adorers on the bark of every tree. No more of adorers, cried she;
let us talk of the sun. I understand perfectly why we imagined it
performing the revolution which is merely effected by our own motion,
but this circle requires a year; how, then, does the sun appear to go
round us every day? You undoubtedly know, I replied, that if a ball
were rolled along this walk it would have two sorts of motion; it would
go towards the end of the walk, and at the same time turn several
times on its own axis, so that the side of the ball which is at first
uppermost will presently descend, and the other, of course, rise to
the top. This is the case with the earth: whilst she is proceeding,
through the year, in her orbit round the sun, she turns on her own axis
every twenty-four hours: each part, therefore, of the earth loses, and
recovers sight of the sun during that time. When in the morning we turn
towards the sun, it seems to rise; and when, by continued rotation, we
again are more distant from it, it appears to descend. That's curious
enough, said she; the earth undertakes every thing, and the sun does
nothing at all: and when the moon, the other planets, and the fixed
stars appear to pass over us in four-and-twenty hours, it is merely
imagination. Exactly so, I replied, and produced by the same cause.
The planets perform their revolutions round the sun in unequal periods
of time, in consequence of their different distances from it; and one
which we see to day answer to a certain point in the zodiac, or circle
of fixed stars, will to-morrow at the same hour answer to some other
point: this is the effect both of the progress which the planet has
made in its orbit and of that which we have made in ours. We move
onward; the other planets do the same, but we do not continue all in a
line: this occasions us to see them in such different situations, and
renders their course apparently irregular. You now understand that such
irregularity depends only on the different points from which we view
them, and that, in reality all their movements are directed by the most
exact order. It may be so, answered the Marchioness; but I should be
glad if their order did not cost the earth so much: you seem to have
very little consideration for it, and to require an astonishing agility
in so large a body. But, said I, do you think it more reasonable for
the sun, and all the other heavenly bodies, which are extremely large,
to perform in four-and-twenty hours an immense journey round the earth?
That the fixed stars, being in the largest circle, should travel, in
the course of a day, more than twenty-seven thousand six hundred and
sixty times two hundred millions of leagues?[11] All this must be if
the earth does not turn on her axis every twenty-four hours. Surely
there is much more rationality in supposing our globe to turn, which
would give to each part but a journey of nine thousand leagues.
Consider what a trifle are nine thousand in comparison of the terrific
number I have just mentioned.

[Footnote 11: According to later calculations, it would be a thousand
millions of times a million of leagues; but a person who did not
believe the motion of the earth would have no occasion to admit this
prodigious distance.]

Oh! replied the Marchioness; the sun and stars are made of fire, a
swift motion is nothing to them, but the earth does not seem formed for
motion. And should you think, I answered, if experience had not proved
the fact, that a large ship, carrying a hundred and fifty pieces of
cannon, three thousand men, and a heavy freight of merchandize, could
be _formed for motion_?--Yet a gentle breeze is sufficient to move it
forwards, because the water, being liquid, and easily divided, makes a
very slight resistance to the progress of the ship, or if it be in the
middle of a river, it follows without difficulty the current of the
water, since there is then no impediment. In like manner the earth,
notwithstanding its weight, is with facility carried through the sky
which is infinitely more fluid than water, and which fills the immense
space occupied by all the planets. To what could the earth be fastened
so strongly as to resist the current of this celestial fluid and remain
motionless? We might as well imagine a little wooden ball could resist
the tide of a river.

But, said she, how can a body so ponderous as the earth be suspended
in your celestial fluid, which from its great fluidity must be
extremely light? It does not follow, I replied, that a substance must
be extremely light because it is fluid. What do you think of the great
ship we have been talking of, which, with all its lading, is lighter
than the water that supports it? I won't have any more to say to
you, answered she, half angrily, if you mention your ship again.[12]
But tell me, is it not dangerous to inhabit such a whirli-gig as
you represent the earth? If you are afraid, said I, let us have the
world supported by four elephants, as the Indians do. Well! cried
she, here is a new system. I like those people for providing such
good foundations for the earth to rest on, whilst we Copernicans are
imprudent enough to swim at random in this celestial fluid. I dare say
if the Indians knew there was the least danger of the earth's being
moved, they would double the number of elephants.

[Footnote 12: The Marchioness was in the right not to listen to such
an answer. It is absurd to pretend that the ætherial fluid, so light
and rare, can be capable of bearing along those enormous masses, the
planets.]

It would be worth while, I replied, laughing at the thought, we must
not be sparing of elephants if they can enable us to sleep in peace;
if you would find them serviceable to-night we'll put as many as you
please, and then remove them one or two at a time as you find your
courage return. No, said she, I don't think there is any need for
them, and to speak seriously, I feel courageous enough to let the
world turn round. And I can venture to predict, answered I, that in
a little while its turning will give you pleasure; will even inspire
the most delightful ideas, I sometimes imagine myself raised above
the surface of the earth, and remaining motionless whilst its daily
rotation continues. All the different inhabitants pass in review; some
fair, some copper-coloured, some black. Now I see heads covered with
hats; then with turbans; some shaven, others with flowing hair. As the
towns pass before me, I observe some have steeples, some long spires
with crosses on them, others are ornamented with towers of porcelaine.
Then I behold large countries with no other buildings than little huts:
afterwards, immense seas; then frightful deserts; and in short, all the
boundless variety which is to be found on the face of the earth.

Really, she replied, it would be worth while to devote four-and-twenty
hours to such a sight. If I understand you, when we move, other
countries with their inhabitants pass into the situation we are
leaving, and so on, till in four-and-twenty hours we again arrive at
the same place.

Copernicus himself, said I, could not have comprehended it more
clearly. The first that would succeed us[13] would be the English: we
should probably find them arguing on some political topic with less
gaiety than we are discussing our philosophy. When we had dismissed
them we should discover a vast sea,[14] on which perhaps would be
some vessel, less at her ease than we. Then come the Iroquois, eating
one of their prisoners of war, who does not even utter a groan though
still alive when they begin to devour him.[15] After them the women
of Jesso, who employ all their time in preparing victuals for their
husbands, and painting their lips and eye-brows blue to appear handsome
in the eyes of the most disgusting men in the world. Then the Tartars,
very devoutly going on a pilgrimage to their high priest, who dwells
in an obscure recess, enlightened only by lamps, the rays of which
direct these votaries to the object of their adoration. Afterwards
the beautiful Circassians who make no ceremony of granting all their
favours to the first that solicits them, except what they believe the
essential prerogative of their husbands. Then the inhabitants of Little
Tartary, who go to steal women for the Turks and Persians. Last of all
our countrymen, whom we should find entertaining each other with the
vagaries of their imagination.

[Footnote 13: To speak more properly they would be one hundred leagues
northward.]

[Footnote 14: The Atlantic.]

[Footnote 15: We should next see the Pacific Ocean.]

It is amusing enough, said the Marchioness, to fancy oneself in a
situation to see all these things: but if I were taking the view I
should wish for the power of hastening or retarding the earth's motion,
according to the feelings with which each object inspired me: I assure
you I should soon push on those that argued on politics, and the
others that devoured their enemies; but there are some of the people
you have been speaking of that would excite my curiosity; the handsome
Circassians, for instance, whose customs are so peculiar. But a serious
difficulty occurs to me respecting your system. If the earth turns, we
every moment change our atmosphere, and respire that of a new climate.
By no means, madam, I replied; the air which surrounds the earth rises
only to a certain height, twenty leagues perhaps at farthest;[16] this
atmosphere always turns with us. You have doubtless observed the sort
of shell in which a silk-worm imprisons itself, and which it forms
with such astonishing art. It is composed of silk closely woven, but
covered with a light down. Thus it is with regard to the earth, it is a
solid body covered with an atmosphere extending to a certain height,
which adheres to, and moves with it, as the down does with the firmer
substance beneath it. Above our atmosphere is the celestial matter,
incomparably more pure, subtile and active than air.

[Footnote 16: Even at two leagues it is no longer discernible.]

You represent the earth in a very contemptible light, said the
Marchioness. Nevertheless on this silk-worm's shell we find stupendous
works, furious wars, and universal agitation. Yes, answered I, and
while all this is going on, nature, who does not concern herself about
such frivolous things, carries us all along, with an uninterrupted
motion, and amuses herself with the little ball.

It appears very ridiculous, replied she, to give way to so much
anxiety, whilst one is living on a thing that is perpetually turning;
but unfortunately we are not assured that it does turn, for, to tell
you the truth, all the precautions you take to convince me that we
should not feel its motion are unsatisfactory. How could it avoid
giving some indication by which we should be sensible of it?[17] The
most common and natural motions, said I, are the least felt: this
observation is true even in a moral sense: the motions of self-love are
so frequent in our minds, that for the most part we are not sensible
of them, but believe ourselves actuated by other principles. Ah! you
are beginning to moralize, said she; moralizing and explaining natural
philosophy are a little different; I fancy you grow tired of your
subject: let us return home, we have had enough for the first lecture.
To-morrow we will come here again--you with your systems, and I with my
ignorance.

[Footnote 17: There are several; one of them is the aberration of the
stars. Astron. Book xvii.]

In our way to the house, to give her a complete history of systems,
I told her that a third had been invented by Ticho Brahe, who, from
a determination to keep the earth in a state of rest, placed her in
the centre of the universe, making the sun revolve round her, and the
planets round the sun; for in consequence of some discoveries which had
been lately made, he found it impossible to make the planets go round
the earth. The Marchioness, with her usual discernment, concluded that
it was mere whim to exempt the earth from moving round the sun, when
so many other larger bodies were allowed to perform the revolution;
that the sun was rendered more unfit for turning round the earth when
incumbered with the other planets, and in short that this system
was only calculated to support a prejudice in favour of the earth's
immobility,[18] without offering any thing to convince the judgment;
we therefore resolved to retain that of Copernicus, which is more
uniform and pleasing, and at the same time unmixed with prejudice. In
fact its simplicity convinces, whilst its boldness excites admiration.

[Footnote 18: The ridiculous system of Ticho was invented out of
respect to the holy scriptures, not considering that their object
was more important than the refutation of popular errors on natural
philosophy.]

                              ═══════════




                           _SECOND EVENING._


                              ═══════════

                    THE MOON IS A HABITABLE GLOBE.

                              ═══════════


The next morning as soon as the Marchioness was awake, I sent to
enquire how she did, and whether she had been able to sleep whilst the
globe was turning? I received for answer, that she already felt quite
accustomed to the motion; and had slept as undisturbedly as Copernicus
himself. Soon afterwards, some company came to spend the whole day
with her; a tiresome custom which is always observed in the country;
yet long as the visit was, we considered it a great kindness in the
guests, not to prolong it to the next day; which I find is a common
practice in this part of the world: however, as they had the civility
to leave us, the Marchioness and I had the evening to ourselves. We
immediately went to the park and resumed our astronomical conversation.
She understood so perfectly all I had said on the former evening, that
she disdained to hear any repetition of the subject, and desired me
to enter on a new one.--Well then, said I, since the sun, which we
concluded is immovable, can no longer be considered a planet; and the
earth is proved to be one, and to move round the sun; you will be the
less surprised to hear, that the moon is a world like ours; and to all
appearance, inhabited.--I never heard speak of peopling the moon; she
replied, but as a ridiculous, visionary hypothesis.--It may be so,
answered I; I only adopt the interest of any party, in these cases, as
people do in civil wars; in which the uncertainty of the event, induces
them to hold a correspondence with opposite sides, and even, when
possible, with their enemies. For my part, though I believe the moon is
inhabited, I can be very civil to any one that disbelieves it; and I
always retain the power of going over to their side without disgracing
myself, if I found they had the advantage: but in the present state
of the question I have the following reasons for thinking the moon is
inhabited.

Let us suppose that no communication had ever been carried on between
Paris and St. Dennis; and that a Parisian who had never gone out of his
own city should stand on one of the towers of Notre-Dame, and at that
distance view St. Dennis: were he asked if he believed that St. Dennis
was inhabited like Paris, he would without hesitation answer, No; I see
inhabitants in Paris, but I can discover none at St. Dennis, nor did
I ever hear of any being there. Somebody standing by, might answer,
that we certainly cannot see them from the towers of Notre-Dame, but
that is, because we are at too great a distance; that from all we can
discern of St. Dennis it is very much like Paris; that it has steeples,
houses, walls; and therefore is very probably inhabited. All this makes
no impression on our citizen; he insists upon it that St. Dennis is
uninhabited because he does not see any body in it. The moon is our St.
Dennis, and each of us is this Parisian who has never left the city in
which he resides.

Oh! you wrong us, interrupted the Marchioness; we are not so stupid as
your citizen; when he sees that St. Dennis is constructed exactly on
the same plan as Paris, he must be out of his senses not to believe
it inhabited: but the moon is very different from the earth. Be
cautious, madam, said I; if the moon's resemblance to the earth prove
it habitable, I shall force you to believe that it is inhabited. I
confess, answered she, that if you can shew me the similarity, I cannot
pretend to deny its being inhabited, and I see so much confidence in
your looks that I am afraid you will be triumphant. The two different
motions of the earth, which I never before knew any thing about, make
me fearful of hastily rejecting any other opinion; but still, can it be
possible that the earth is luminous like the moon?--that you know is
essential to their similarity. Indeed, madam, I replied, the luminous
quality of planets depends on less than you imagine. The sun alone is,
in his _nature_, luminous; but the planets only reflect the light they
receive from him. He enlightens the moon; the moon reflects his rays on
the earth, and the earth is undoubtedly in the same manner a source of
light to the moon; it is not farther from us to the moon, than from the
moon to us.

But, enquired the Marchioness, is the earth equally capable of
reflecting the sun's light? I see, answered I, you have an invincible
partiality for the moon. Light is composed of globules which rebound
from a solid substance, but pass through any thing in which they find
interstices, such as air or glass: the moon, therefore, gives us light
in consequence of being a hard, solid body, which sends back these
globules. I suppose you will not dispute the hardness and solidity of
the earth. See then the effect of an advantageous situation--because
the moon is at a distance we only view her as a luminous body instead
of a large mass of matter similar to the earth. Our globe, on the
contrary, from having the ill luck to be more closely inspected,
appears only a mass of dark soil, fit for nothing but to produce food
for animals; we do not perceive the splendour of her light, because
we cannot remove to a distance from her. So it is, answered the
Marchioness, with the different ranks of society: we are dazzled with
the grandeur of situations superior to our own, without considering how
much every condition of human life resembles all the rest.

'Tis precisely the same thing, I replied; we take upon us to decide
on every thing, but we are never in a proper place for making our
observations. We would form an opinion of ourselves, and we are too
near; we would judge of others; they are too distant from our view.
We should be placed between the earth and the moon to form a just
comparison; a spectator, not an inhabitant of the world. I shall be
inconsolable for the injustice we do our world, said she, and the
partial regard we have for the moon, unless you can assure me that the
inhabitants of that planet are as ignorant of _their_ advantages, and
consider our globe a luminous body, without knowing that from their own
we derive so much light. I can make you easy on that head, answered
I; we are certainly a luminary to them: they do not, it is true, see
us describe a circle round them,[19] but that does not signify. The
reason of our appearing to remain in the same place is this;--the
side of the moon which was turned towards us at the creation, has
always continued so; we always observe the same eyes, mouth, and
other features of the face which, by the help of imagination, we have
contrived out of the spots on her surface.[20] If the other half were
presented to us, we should see spots arranged in a different form:
this does not arise from the moon's not turning on her axis; she turns
in the same time that is employed in going round the earth, that is,
a month; but whilst she is performing part of her revolution on her
axis, she at the same time performs an equal part of her circle round
the earth, and thus, by putting herself in a new situation, continues
to shew the same side: therefore although with regard to the sun and
the rest of the heavenly bodies the moon evidently turns on her axis,
yet when viewed from the earth she does not appear to do so. All the
other luminaries seem to the moon to rise and set in the space of a
fortnight, but she constantly sees our globe in the same part of the
heavens.[21] This apparent immobility, were it invariable, would be
thought inconsistent with the nature of a planet; but the moon has a
sort of vibratory motion which sometimes conceals a small part of the
face, and exhibits a part of the other side. Now, I can venture to say
that the inhabitants attribute this motion to us, and imagine that we
vibrate in the heavens, like a pendulum.

[Footnote 19: This is an error, for if they consider the earth's
situation relatively to the firmament, they must see that she performs
a revolution in twenty-seven days: they certainly always find her
answer to their zenith, or at the same distance from the zenith, but at
the same time this zenith is continually answering to some new point in
the heavens.]

[Footnote 20: When the moon is viewed through a telescope its spots
bear no resemblance to the human face; but on contemplating it with the
naked eye, it is easy to imagine that form; and it is become so common
to talk of the face on the moon, that even an astronomer can hardly
divest himself of the idea.]

[Footnote 21: The earth always answers to one side of the moon, but not
the same point in the sky.]

All the planets, said the Marchioness, are like us human beings, who
always attribute to others what belongs to ourselves. The earth says;
_it is not I who turn, it is the sun_. The moon says; _it is not I who
vibrate, but the earth_: there is error throughout. I would not advise
you to attempt making any reform, answered I; you had better consider
the remaining proofs of the resemblance which the earth and moon bear
to each other. Figure to yourself those two globes suspended in the
heavens. You know the sun always enlightens one half of a circular
body, whilst the other half remains in the shade. There is then one
half of both the earth and the moon, which is enlightened by the sun,
or in other words, in which it is day, and the other half in which
it is night. Observe likewise that as a ball moves with less force
and celerity after it has struck against a wall from which it flies
off to an opposite place, so the light is weaker when reflected to
us from a body that only receives it. The pale light of the moon is
in reality the brilliancy of the sun, but as we receive it merely by
reflection, in coming to us, it is deprived of its strength. Of course,
it shines with much greater splendour on the moon, and for the same
reason the dazzling light received by our globe, from the sun, must
appear faint, when reflected back to the moon. That part of the moon
which to us appears luminous during the night, is the side which has
day-light; and the part of the earth which is illuminated by the day,
when turned toward the dark side of the moon, affords equal light to
her. All this depends on the mutual position of the earth and moon.
During the first days of the month, when the moon is not discernible,
she is placed between the sun and us, and proceeding in the day time
with the sun: the luminous side is therefore necessarily turned to the
sun, whilst the dark part is towards the earth. We are unable to see
the unenlightened side of the moon, but this dark half viewing the part
of our globe in which it is day, is assisted by our light, and though
invisible to us, has the advantage of seeing the earth as a full moon:
it is then to the lunar inhabitants _full-earth_, if I may so express
myself.[22] After this, the moon advancing in her monthly round, and no
longer between the sun and earth, turns towards us a small part of her
enlightened half, and that we call the crescent. At the same time that
part of the moon which is involved in the obscurity of night, ceases
so see all the luminous side of the earth, and finds it continue to
decrease.

[Footnote 22: We have a convincing proof of the light reflected from
the earth at this time, in the dusky light perceived on a part of the
moon that is not enlightened by the sun. Astron. Art. 1412.]

Enough--said the Marchioness, in her lively manner; I shall easily
learn the rest when I like: let me stop a moment, and trace the moon
through her monthly circle. I see that in general that planet and the
earth have very different degrees of light, and I imagine that when we
have the full-moon all the luminous side of the moon is turned toward
all the part of our globe which is obscure; and that, at that time, the
inhabitants cannot discern us at all, but say they have _new-earth_. I
should not chuse to be obnoxious to reproach for obliging you to enter
into a long explanation of any thing so easily understood, but the
eclipses--how are they effected? You could guess it without difficulty,
I replied. When we have a new moon, and she, being between us and the
sun, presents her dark side to our luminous half, the shadow of this
obscure part falls on the earth; so that wherever the moon is in a
direct line under the sun, she hides that luminary from our sight, and
darkens a part of the enlightened side of our globe; this, then, forms
an eclipse of the sun to us during the day-time, and an eclipse of the
earth to the moon during her night. When the moon is at the full, the
earth is between her and the sun, the shaded side of the earth towards
the light side of the moon. If the earth's shadow fall directly on the
moon, it darkens the luminous half that we see; 'tis then we have an
eclipse of the moon in our night, and the moon, an eclipse of the sun
in her day. What prevents an eclipse every time the moon is between the
sun and us, or the earth between the sun and moon, is this; it often
happens that these three bodies are not placed exactly in a line, in
which case the one that would occasion the eclipse throws its shadow on
one side of the other and consequently does not obstruct its light.

I am very much astonished, said the Marchioness, that there is so
little mystery in eclipses, and that being produced by such simple
means, every body does not discover the cause of them. In truth,
answered I, there are many people, who from the emotions they feel at
one of these phenomena, appear to have little chance of finding out
the occasion of them at present. Throughout the East-Indies, when the
sun and moon are eclipsed, the inhabitants believe that a great dragon
with his black claws is going to seize these luminaries; and all the
time the eclipse lasts, you may see whole rivers covered with the heads
of these Indians, who have put themselves up to the throat in water,
because, according to their notions, this is a very religious act,
and will induce the sun or moon to defend itself bravely against the
dragon. In America, it was thought that the sun and moon were angry
when they were eclipsed, and every kind of absurdity was practised to
regain their favour. The Grecians too, who had arrived at such a height
of refinement--did they not, for a long time, believe that the moon was
eclipsed by the power of sorcery, and that the magicians caused her to
descend from the skies and cast a baneful influence on the herbs? And
were not we likewise in great alarm, but two-and-thirty years ago,[23]
at a total eclipse of the sun? Did not an immense number of people shut
themselves up in caves and cellars; and were they easily persuaded to
leave them by the philosophers who wrote so much to re-assure them?

[Footnote 23: 1654. There have been others in Europe in 1724, 1715, and
1716.]

Really, replied she, all that is too ridiculous. There ought to be a
decree passed to prevent any body from ever talking of eclipses, lest
the memory of these follies should be perpetuated. The decree, said I,
should extend so far as to obliterate the memory of every subject, for
I can think of nothing in the world which is not the monument of some
human folly.

Answer me this question, said the Marchioness:--Are the inhabitants
of the moon as much afraid of eclipses as those of the earth? How
ridiculous it is if the Indians of that world put themselves up to the
chin in water; if the Americans believe the earth is angry with them;
if the Greeks imagine we are enchanted, and suppose we shall injure
their herbs; and in short, if we are inflicting on them all the terror
they have caused us? I have no doubt but that is the case, answered
I; for why should the good folks in the moon have more sense than we?
What right have they to frighten us, unless we can frighten them? I
dare say, added I, laughing; that, as a prodigious number of men have
been, and still are, silly enough to worship the moon; so there are
some in the moon that pay their adorations to the earth, and that
they are kneeling to one another. If it be so, she replied, we may
pretend to have an influence on the moon, and to produce the crisis
in the diseases of her sick people, but as a little common sense in
the dwellers on that globe would be sufficient to destroy all these
honours, I must confess I am afraid they will have the advantage over
us.

Don't alarm yourself, said I; 'tis not probable that we are the
only fools in the universe. There is something in ignorance that is
calculated for general reception, and though I can only guess the
character of the people in question, yet I have no more doubt, that
could we form the comparison, we should find ourselves equal to them,
than I have that the accounts are true that we receive of their globe.

What accounts do you receive enquired she. Those, I replied, that are
given us by the learned who travel there every day by the assistance of
telescopes. They tell us that they have discovered in the moon earth,
seas, lakes, elevated mountains, and profound abysses.

You astonish me, cried the Marchioness: I cannot imagine the
possibility of discovering mountains and abysses, from the great
irregularity they cause on the surface of the globe; but how do they
distinguish earth from sea? Because, answered I, the water,[24] by
suffering part of the light to pass through it, and consequently
reflecting less than the earth, has, at a distance, the appearance of
dark spots; whilst the solid parts, by reflecting all the light, look
much more brilliant. The illustrious M. Cassini, who has acquired a
greater knowledge of the celestial bodies than any man in the world,
discovered in the moon something which separates, then re-unites, and
afterwards loses itself in a cavity. We have reason to believe, from
its appearance that this is a river. In short all these different
parts are now so well known to us, that they have been named after our
great men. One place is called Copernicus, another Archimedes, another
Gabileus. Other parts have fancy names; there is a promontory of
decams, a sea of nectar, and so on; in fact our description of the moon
is so particular, that if a learned man was to take a journey there, he
would be in no more danger of losing himself than I should in Paris.

[Footnote 24: It is proved that there is no water in the moon, but
there are volcanoes; they may even be seen without a telescope, which
was the case on the 7th of March, 1794. _Philos. Trans._]

But, said she, I should like to have a more detailed account of the
interior of the country. The gentlemen of the observatory are not able
to give it you, I replied; you must make enquiry of Astolfo, who was
taken to the moon by St. John. That is one of the pleasantest follies
of Ariosto, I'm sure you will be amused with it. I confess it would
have been better if he had not introduced in it so respectable a name
as that of St. John; poets, however, will take licenses, and we may
venture to excuse this, for the whole poem is dedicated to a cardinal,
and one of our popes has honoured it with a particular eulogium, which
in some editions is placed before the work. This is the subject of the
piece: Orlando, nephew to Charlemagne, had lost his senses, because
the beautiful Angelica preferred Medore to him. Astolfo, a valourous
knight-errant was one day carried by his hippogriffe to the terrestial
paradise, which was at the top of a very high mountain: there he met
with St. John, who informed him that it was necessary, in order to cure
Orlando of his madness, for them to take a journey together to the
moon. Astolfo, delighted with the opportunity of seeing a new country,
needed no entreaty, and in a moment the apostle and knight took their
course in a chariot of fire. As Astolfo was no philosopher, he was
surprised to find the moon much larger than it appeared while he was on
the earth; his astonishment however increased when he saw in it rivers,
lakes, mountains, towns, forests, and, what I should have been equally
surprised at, nymphs hunting in the forests. But the most curious
thing of all he saw was a valley in which was to be found every thing
that was lost on the earth: crowns, riches, the rewards of ambition,
hopes without number, all the time that had been devoted to gaming, all
the alms men had ordered to be distributed after their death, verses
dedicated to monarchs, and the sighs of lovers.

As to lovers' sighs, rejoined the Marchioness; I don't know what became
of them in Ariosto's time, but at present I fancy there are none that
go to the moon. We should find a great many, said I, were they only
those that you have occasioned. In short, the moon is so careful in
collecting all that is lost here that not a single thing is wanting
of the number: Ariosto has even whispered that Constantine's donation
is there: the popes have assumed the government of Rome and Italy by
virtue of a donation from that emperor, but the truth is we can't tell
what is become of it. There is but one sort of thing that has not
escaped to the moon, and that is--folly: the people on earth have taken
care not to part with that; but to make the moon amends, an incredible
quantity of wit has taken its flight thither, which is there preserved
in phials; it is a very subtile fluid, and easily evaporates unless
carefully corked up: on each of these phials is written the name of
the owner. I think Ariosto puts them together without any order, but
I like better to imagine them placed neatly in long rows. Astolfo was
astonished to find full phials belonging to many wise people of his
acquaintance. I am sure, continued I, mine has been considerably
augmented since I began to indulge myself with you in philosophic and
poetic reveries: but I console myself by supposing that after listening
to all my fancies _your_ wits must inevitably become so volatile that
at least a little phial full will evaporate, and make its way to the
moon.

Our knight-errant found his own among the rest, and by St. John's
permission took possession of it and snuffed up all the bottleful
like Hungary water: but according to Ariosto he did not carry it
away with him; for, it soon returned to the moon, in consequence of
an extravagance he was guilty of some time after. He did not forget
Orlando's phial which had occasioned his journey; he had a good deal
of trouble in carrying it, for the hero's wit was naturally weighty,
and not a drop was wanting. At the end, Ariosto, according to his
general custom of saying whatever he pleases, addresses, in beautiful
language the following apostrophe to his mistress: "Who, my fair one,
will ascend to the heavens, to restore the senses of which your charms
has robbed me? Hitherto I have not complained, but I know not what
may be the extent of my loss; should I continue the victim of your
beauty, I shall in the end become what I have represented Orlando to
be. However, I do not believe it is necessary for me to traverse the
airy regions for the recovery of my senses; all the faculties of my
soul, instead of mounting to such unattainable height, are solacing
themselves in the beam of your eyes, and hovering round your lovely
mouth. Ah! have compassion on me, and suffer me to take them back with
my lips." Is not the thought pretty? For my part, in adopting Ariosto's
way of thinking, I should dissuade people from ever letting their wits
escape, unless it were from the influence of love; for you see how
near they then continue, and how easily they may be regained; but when
they are lost in any other way, as we, for instance, are losing ours,
in philosophising, they fly directly to the moon, and are not caught
again at pleasure. Never mind, said the Marchioness; ours will have an
honourable station among the philosophic phials; whereas, had we lost
them in the poet's way, they might perhaps hover around some unworthy
object. But, continued she, to deprive me completely of mine, tell me
seriously whether you believe there are men living in the moon, for
you have not yet given me a decided opinion. Do I believe it? replied
I; oh no, I don't believe there are men in the moon. We see how much
all nature is changed even when we have travelled from here to China;
different faces; different figures; different manners; and almost a
different sort of understandings: from here to the moon the alteration
must be considerably greater. When adventurers explore unknown
countries, the inhabitants they find are scarcely human; they are
animals in the shape of men, even in that respect sometimes imperfect;
but almost devoid of human reason; could any of these travellers reach
the moon, they surely would not find it inhabited by men.

Then what sort of creatures are they? asked the Marchioness
impatiently. Upon my word, madam, said I, I can't tell. Were it
possible for us to be endowed with reason, and at the same time not
of the human species; were we, I say, such beings, and inhabitants
of the moon, should we ever imagine that this world contained so
fantastical a creature as man? Could we form in our minds the image
of a being composed of such extravagant passions, and such wise
reflections; an existence so short, and plans so extensive; so much
knowledge of trifles, and so much ignorance of the most important
things; such ardent love of liberty, yet such proneness to slavery; so
strong a desire for happiness, with so little power of being happy?
The people in the moon, must be very clever to imagine such a motley
character. We are incessantly contemplating our own nature, yet we
are still unacquainted with it. Some have found it so difficult to
comprehend, that they have said the gods had taken too much nectar
when they created men; and when they had recovered their calm reason,
they could not help laughing at their own work. Well, we are not in
danger of being laughed at by the inhabitants of the moon, answered
the Marchioness, as they would find it so impossible to imagine our
characters; but I should be very glad if we could find out theirs,
for really, one feels a painful degree of curiosity in knowing that
there are beings in the moon we see yonder, and not having the means
of discovering what they are. How is it, I replied, that you have no
anxiety to be acquainted with all the southern part of the world which
is yet unknown to us? We and the inhabitants of that part of the globe
are voyaging in the same vessel, of which they occupy the head and we
the stern. You see that the head and the stern have no communication
with each other; that the people at one end know nothing of the nature
or occupations of those at the other, and yet you want to be acquainted
with all that is going forward in the moon, that separate vessel which
is sailing in a distant part of the heavens.

Oh! replied she, I consider myself already acquainted with the
inhabitants of the southern world, for they certainly must be very
much like us; and in short, we may know them better whenever we chuse
to give ourselves the trouble of going to see them; we cannot miss
them, for they will remain in the same place; but these folks in the
moon----I am in despair about them. Were I, I replied, gravely to
answer you, _we know not what may happen_, you would laugh at me, and
I should undoubtedly deserve it; nevertheless I think I could defend
myself in some measure from your ridicule. A thought has come into my
head, which is whimsical enough, and yet there is a wonderful deal
of probability in it; I don't know how it has acquired the power of
imposing that on my understanding, being in itself so extravagant. I
dare say I shall likewise bring you to confess, contrary to reason,
that there may some day be a communication opened between the earth and
the moon. Recollect the situation of America before it was discovered
by Christopher Columbus. The minds of its inhabitants were involved
in the most profound ignorance; far from having any knowledge of the
sciences, they were not even acquainted with the most simple and
necessary arts: they went without clothes; they had no weapon but the
bow; they had no notion that men might be carried by animals; they
supposed the ocean an immense space, impassable by man, and bounded
only by the sky to which it was joined. It is true that after they had
been several years in contriving to scoop out the trunk of a great
tree, they ventured to commit themselves to the water in this rude
sort of vessel, and went from one country to another, borne along by
the winds and waves: but as their bark was very liable to be overset,
they were frequently under the necessity of swimming to overtake it,
so that properly speaking they were oftener in the water than in their
ship. You must suppose they would not have yielded a very implicit
credence to a person who had told them that a navigation was carried
on, incomparably superior to theirs; that by its means, every part of
the liquid expanse could be resorted to; that the vessels might be
detained at one spot whilst the billows were foaming around; that even
the speed with which they moved might be regulated; in short, that the
ocean, whatever its extent might be, was no obstacle to the commerce
of different people. In a course of time, however, notwithstanding
their incredulity, a spectacle new and astonishing presents itself
to the eyes of these savages. Enormous bodies, extending their white
wings to the blast, come sailing on the ocean with fearful rapidity,
and discharging fire on every side: these tremendous machines cast on
their shore men covered with iron; guiding with facility the monsters
that carry them, and darting thunderbolts from their hands to destroy
all who attempt to resist them.--"Whence come these awful beings? Who
hath given them power to ride on the waters, and to wield the thunder
of heaven? Are they children of the sun? assuredly they are not men!"
I cannot tell, madam, whether you feel as strongly as I do, the
surprise of the Americans; surely no event could ever have excited an
astonishment equal to theirs. After thinking of that, I will not assert
that no communication can be established between our world and the
moon. Did the Americans ever conceive the idea that there would be any
between their country and Europe, of which they had never heard? There
is, I acknowledge, an immense space of air to travel through before we
could reach the moon; but did those great seas appear to the Americans
more capable of being crossed? Really, exclaimed the Marchioness,
looking earnestly at me, you are quite mad! Who denies it? answered I.
It is impossible you _should_ deny it said she. The Americans were so
ignorant that they could not imagine the practicability of crossing
such an extent of water; but we have science enough to know that the
air is passable, although we have no machine which can transport us
through it. We do more than conjecture the possibility of rising in
the air, I replied; we have actually began to fly. Several persons
have discovered a method of fixing on wings which supported them in
the air, of moving these wings, and by their assistance, flying over
rivers; these new-fashioned birds, did not, to be sure, soar like the
eagles, and their flight has sometimes cost them an arm or a leg;
but, however, these attempts answer to the first pieces of wood that
were launched into the water, and which served for the commencement
of navigation: there was a vast difference between these mere planks
and great ships, capable of going round the world; nevertheless, by
gradual improvements we have learned to construct such vessels. The
art of flying is but in its infancy; in due time it will be brought to
perfection,[25] and some day or other we shall get to the moon. Can we
pretend to know every thing; to have made every possible discovery?
Pray let us give posterity leave to make some improvements as well as
ourselves. I won't give them leave, answered she, to break their necks
by attempting to fly. Well, I replied, though flying be not perfected
here, the inhabitants of the moon, may perhaps excel us; and it will be
the same thing whether we go to them, or they come to us. We shall then
be like the Americans who knew so little of navigation whilst it was
thoroughly understood at the other side of the globe. Pugh! cried the
Marchioness; if the people in the moon were so expert, they would have
been here before this time. The Europeans, answered I, did not find
their way to America till six thousand years had elapsed; they were
all that time in learning the art of navigation so completely as to
pass over the ocean. Probably the people in the moon are able to take
little excursions into the air, very likely they are now practising;
after they have acquired more experience they will pay us a visit, and
heaven knows what surprise it will occasion us! You are insupportable,
exclaimed she, to combat me with such chimerical arguments. Take care,
said I; if you provoke me I shall easily corroborate them. Remember
the earth has been made known to us by little and little. The ancients
positively asserted that the torrid and frozen zones were uninhabitable
from the excessive heat of the one, and cold of the others; and in
the time of the Romans the general chart of the world was made little
larger than that of their own empire, this at once shewed the grand
idea they had of themselves, and their extreme ignorance of the earth.
Men were however discovered, in these extremely hot, and intensely
cold, climates, which discovery has greatly augmented the number of
inhabitants on our globe. At one time it was believed that the ocean
covered every part of the earth except what was then known. Antipodes
had never been heard of, and who could imagine that men would be able
to walk with their heads downwards? Yet after all, the antipodes
were found out. Now the map must be altered; a new half added to the
earth!--You understand, madam, what I am aiming at; these antipodes,
so unexpectedly discovered, should teach us to think modestly of our
attainments: we may yet know much more of our own world, and then
become acquainted with the moon; till that time we must not expect
it, because our knowledge is progressive: when we understand our own
habitation, we may be permitted to study that of our neighbours. In
truth, said she, viewing me attentively, you enter into the subject so
deeply that one cannot but imagine you in earnest. Indeed I am not,
answered I; I only wished to shew you the possibility of maintaining an
extravagant opinion, so as to embarrass, though not convince, a person
of sense. Truth alone makes her way to the understanding; she can even
convince without exhibiting every proof: she is so adapted to our
capacities, that when first discovered, we seem only to have met with
an old acquaintance.

[Footnote 25: Montgolfier's balloons, invented in 1783, have gone
a great way towards the fulfilling of this prediction, but it is
evidently impossible for it to be accomplished; these globes can only
carry us to a certain height, beyond that we could not breathe.]

Ah! this restores my tranquillity, said she. Your sophistry disturbed
my imagination. Let us retire; I am now composed and inclined to go to
rest.

                            ══════════════




                           _THIRD EVENING._

                            ══════════════



The Marchioness wished to pursue our astronomical researches during the
day; but I told her that as the moon and stars were the subjects of
our whimsical conversations, they ought to be our only confidants; we
therefore waited till evening, and then took our usual ramble in the
park, which thus became sacred to learning.

I have a vast deal of news to tell you, said I; I yesterday told you
that the moon, according to all appearances, was inhabited; but I have
recollected a circumstance which would expose its inhabitants to so
much danger, that I don't know whether I shall not retract my former
opinion. Indeed I will not suffer you to retract it, answered she.
Yesterday you prepared me to receive a visit from the inhabitants of
the moon, in a few days; now you are going to refuse them a place in
the creation. You shall not trifle with me in this way. You told me
the moon was inhabited; I surmounted the difficulty of believing it,
and now I will continue to believe it. Softly! said I; we should give
but half an assent to an opinion of this nature, and reserve the other
half in case we should find the opposite idea better supported. I am
not contented with words, she replied; give me facts: remember your
comparison of the moon with St. Dennis. But, answered I, the moon is
not so similar to the earth as St. Dennis is to Paris. The sun draws
out of the earth and water exhalations, which rise to a certain height
in the air, collect together, and form themselves into clouds. These
clouds hover about the earth in irregular shapes, sometimes shadowing
one part, and sometimes another. In viewing the earth from a distance,
the appearance of its surface would continually vary, because a large
space of country darkened by a cloud would appear less luminous
than the other parts, and as the cloud dispersed, would resume its
brightness: from this cause the spots on the earth would be seen to
change their places, assume different forms, and sometimes be entirely
dissipated. If, then, the moon had clouds in its atmosphere, we should
observe this variety of spots; but we find them always confined to the
same place, which proves that the sun raises no vapours from the moon.
It is then a body incomparably more solid than the earth, and its more
subtile particles easily dissipated as soon as they are put in motion
by the heat. The moon, therefore must be a mass of rock and marble from
which no evaporation proceeds; for exhalations so naturally arise where
there is water, that we cannot admit the existence of water where they
are not found. What sort of beings do you think could inhabit these
barren rocks; this country without water? Ah! cried she, you forget
that you have assured me the seas in the moon were distinguishable.
It was a mere conjecture,[26] I replied; I am sorry to have led you
astray. These dark places that have been taken for seas are probably
only deep cavities: at so great a distance it is excusable if we don't
always guess aright. But, said she, will your objections oblige us to
conclude that the moon has no inhabitants? By no means, answered I, we
will neither decide one way or the other. I must own my weakness, she
replied; I cannot bear to remain in suspense. I must believe something:
enable me to determine; let us ascertain the existence of these
people, or let us annihilate them at once, and think no more about
them. But preserve them if possible; I have formed an attachment for
them, of which I shall not easily divest myself. I will not leave the
moon without inhabitants then, said I; for your pleasure it shall be
repeopled.

[Footnote 26: This is not, now, even conjectured, for with a telescope
we may see irregularities at the bottom of what were supposed to be
seas.]

As the spots in the moon never vary,[27] we certainly, cannot believe
that there are any surrounding clouds which successively obscure the
surrounding parts; this however is not a proof that there are no
exhalations; our clouds are formed of vapours, which at their first
rising out of the earth, were in separate particles, too small to
be visible to us; in ascending they meet with a degree of cold that
condenses, and unites them into conspicuous forms; after which they
float in the air till they dissolve in rain. But these exhalations
frequently remain dispersed and imperceptible, and fall back on the
ground in gentle dews. I suppose then that vapours of this kind are
exhaled from the moon, for it is incredible that the moon should be
a large mass, composed of parts all equally solid, all in a state of
equal tranquillity, all incapable of being influenced by the action
of the sun. We know of no body which has these properties, not even
marble. The most dense bodies are subject to change, either from some
secret and interior motion, or from the action of external matter. As
the exhalations from the moon, do not form themselves into clouds, and
return in showers, they can only become dew; for that purpose it is not
necessary that the atmosphere, which apparently adheres to the moon as
ours does to the earth, should be exactly similar to our air, nor the
vapours exactly like ours; and that I think is probably the case:[28]
the matter must have a different disposition in the moon, from that
in the earth; consequently the effects be different; however all that
is of no importance; since we find that there is motion in the parts
of the moon, either internal, or produced by foreign causes, we may
again people it, as we have the means of affording them subsistence; of
producing fruit, corn, water, and every thing that is needful. I mean
fruit, corn, &c. such as the moon can produce, the nature of which I
am unacquainted with; and all these in proportion to the wants of its
inhabitants, of which I am likewise ignorant.

[Footnote 27: M. Herschel has observed variations in them; which he,
with certainty, attributes to the industry of the inhabitants.]

[Footnote 28: The atmosphere of the moon, if there be any, is quite
invisible to us.]

That is to say, answered the Marchioness, you are sure every thing is
right, without knowing how it is; here is a little knowledge placed
against a great deal of ignorance, but we must be content with it: I
am very happy to have inhabitants restored to the moon; I am glad also
that you give them a surrounding atmosphere, for it seems to me that a
planet would be too naked without one.

These two different airs, said I, one belonging to the earth, the other
to the moon, tend to prevent the communication between the two planets.
If it merely depended on the power of flying, who knows, as I yesterday
said, but we may at some future time be sufficiently expert? All things
considered, I think we must not expect this communication; the amazing
distance at which they are placed, would be a considerable difficulty;
and were this obstacle removed; were the two planets nearer together,
it would be impossible to pass from one atmosphere to the other. Water
is the atmosphere of fishes; they never pass into that of birds, nor
the birds into theirs: they are not prevented by the distance, but the
existence of both depends on their proper element. Our air, we find,
is mixed with more dense and gross vapours than that of the moon;
therefore an inhabitant of that world would be drowned if he entered
our atmosphere, and fall lifeless on the earth.

Oh! how glad I should be, exclaimed the Marchioness, for a shipwreck to
cast a good number of them on the earth, we might then examine them at
our leisure. But, I replied, if they were clever enough to navigate
the surface of our atmosphere, and from a curiosity to examine us,
should be tempted to draw us up like fishes; would that please you? Why
not? answered she, laughing. I would voluntarily put myself in their
nets, just for the pleasure of seeing the fishers.

Remember, said I, you would be very ill by the time you reached the
top of our air; we are not capable of breathing it above a certain
height;[29] it is said that at the summit of some mountains we can
scarcely do it. I wonder that people who are silly enough to believe
that corporeal genii inhabit the purest regions of the air, should not
tell us, as the reason for our receiving such short and unfrequent
visits from these genii, that few of them understand diving, and even
those who excel in it cannot remain long in our gross air.

[Footnote 29: Respiration is difficult at the height of a league. Half
a league higher it must be impossible.]

We see then there are many things to prevent us from leaving our own
world and going to the moon. To console ourselves let us guess all we
can about it. In the first place I conjecture that the inhabitants must
see the heavens, the sun and the stars of a very different colour from
what they appear to us. We view those objects through a sort of glass
which alters their appearance; this glass is our atmosphere, pervaded
with exhalations. Some moderns assert that it is blue as well as the
sea, but we can only distinguish the colour in the parts of those
elements that are most remote from the eye. The firmament, say they,
in which are the fixed stars, has no light in itself, and consequently
ought to appear black,[30] but as we see it through our blue air, it
seems to us to be blue. If that is true, the rays of the sun and stars
cannot pass through the air without receiving a slight tinge from its
colour, and losing a degree of that which is natural to them. But
supposing the air is not coloured, it is certain that through a thick
fog the light of a flambeau, seen at some distance, appears of a deep
red, which is not its real colour; if therefore our air be considered
only a mist, it must necessarily alter the colour of the sky, sun, and
stars. The celestial fluid alone could give us light and colours in
their original state. Therefore as the atmosphere of the moon differs
from ours, it is either of a different colour, or else it is another
sort of mist, which varies the appearance of the celestial bodies. In a
word, the glass through which the people in the moon view these objects
is of a different nature to ours.

[Footnote 30: Desaussure tells us it appears black when viewed at a
league's distance from the earth.]

On that account, replied the Marchioness, I prefer our world to the
moon; I think it impossible for the assortment of colours presented to
their sight by the heavenly bodies to be so beautiful as that they form
when viewed through the medium of our air. Let us suppose a red sky and
green stars; the effect is not so agreeable as golden stars and a blue
sky. One would think, said I, you were chusing clothes or furniture;
but believe me, nature has a good taste; let us trust to her for
providing a set of colours for the moon, there is no fear but it will
be a pleasing one. She has undoubtedly varied the appearance of the
universe at each different point of view, and in all these varieties
there is great beauty.

I acknowledge her talents, answered she; at each point of view she
has placed a different sort of glass, by which mean she has given the
appearance of variety to objects which remain always the same. With a
blue atmosphere, we have a blue sky, and perhaps with a red atmosphere,
the inhabitants of the moon have a red sky; yet this sky is absolutely
the same. In like manner she seems to have placed various sorts of
glasses before the eyes of our imagination, through which the same
object presents to each of us a different appearance. To Alexander, the
earth appeared a proper place to convert into an empire, for his sway;
Celadon, viewed it only as a fit residence for Astrea; a philosopher
considers it a large planet, travelling through the heavens, and
inhabited by a number of madmen. I think the spectacle of nature cannot
be more varied than the prospects of different imaginations.

The varied appearance of objects viewed by the imagination, I replied,
is the most surprising, for they are exactly the same things though
apparently so dissimilar: whereas there may be other natural objects
visible to the moon, and some that are visible to us may not be seen
there; perhaps, for instance, there is neither dawn nor twilight. The
air that surrounds us, rises to some height, receives the rays of
light that would not reach the earth, and by its density, detains, and
conveys to us a part of this light which was apparently not destined
for us: thus you see the dawn and twilight are particular favours
conferred on us by nature; they are degrees of light to which we are
not regularly entitled, and which are bestowed on us in addition to
our share. But the atmosphere of the moon, being purer than ours, is
probably not so well calculated to reflect the rays which it receives
before the sun is risen, or after it is set. The poor inhabitants have
not then this light, which by its gradual increase prepares us so
agreeably for the brilliancy of the sun; and in the evening reconciles
us to its loss, by a progressive diminution. The moon, after the
profound gloom of night, receives the ardent blaze of the sun, as if
by the instantaneous drawing up of a curtain: on the contrary, whilst
still enjoying the dazzling light of day, it is again plunged into
extreme darkness: day and night are not connected by an agreeable
medium, partaking of both. The people in the moon never see the
rainbow; for as the dawn is produced by the thickness of our air and
vapours, so the rainbow is formed in the clouds which are dispersed
in rain; thus we are indebted for the most beautiful appearances in
nature, to things, in themselves, far from agreeable. Since the moon
has neither dense vapours nor rainy clouds, farewell to Aurora, and the
Rainbow! Alas! to what can they liken the beauties of that country;
what a source of comparison are they deprived of!

I should not much regret those comparisons, answered the Marchioness;
and I think the inhabitants of the moon have ample amends made them
for the loss of rainbows and twilight by being exempted from thunder
and lightning; for these likewise are formed in the clouds. They have
constant serenity of weather; never losing sight of the sun. They
have no gloomy nights in which the stars are concealed. They are
unacquainted with those storms and tempests; those elemental wars which
seem to indicate the wrath of heaven. Are they then to be pitied? You
speak of the moon as an enchanting spot, said I; yet I don't know
whether it is very delightful to be exposed throughout a day that is as
long as our fortnight[31] to a blazing sun, without a cloud to temper
the intensity of its heat. It is perhaps owing to this that nature has
formed cavities in the moon, large enough to be seen by our telescopes;
they are not valleys situated between mountains, but hollow places in
the midst of large plains. How do we know whether the inhabitants,
oppressed by the perpetual radiance of the sun, may not take refuge in
these caverns? Perhaps they even build towns, and constantly reside in
these parts. We see that here our subterraneous Rome is larger than
the Rome which is built on the surface: we have only to remove the
latter, and the other would be a city such as we should find in the
moon. A large number of the people dwell in each cavern, and from one
cavern to another is a subterraneous passage for the communication
of the inhabitants. You laugh at this idea; I have no objection: but
seriously, I think you are more likely to be mistaken than I. You
believe the people in the moon must dwell on the surface, because we
are on the surface of our globe; you should form quite a different
opinion, and think that because we reside on the surface they dwell in
the interior parts; every thing must be very differently conducted here
and in the moon.

[Footnote 31: During this time the sun rises and sets as it does in our
day.]

It does not signify, replied the Marchioness; I can't bear the idea
of these people living in perpetual darkness. You would find it still
more difficult to admit the opinion, said I, if you knew that a great
philosopher of ancient times had informed us that the moon was the
dwelling of souls who had on earth rendered themselves worthy of
very exalted happiness. He supposes that their felicity consists in
listening to the music of the spheres; but that when the moon comes
under the shadow of the earth, they are no longer able to hear this
celestial harmony, at which time they utter the most piercing cries,
and the moon hastens on as fast as possible to relieve them from this
agonizing situation. We may expect then, answered she, to have the
virtuous spirits sent here from the moon, for I suppose they likewise
honour our world by making it an abode of the blessed: so in these
two planets it is thought a sufficient reward to superior goodness
for the soul to be transported from one world to the other. Really,
I replied, it would not be a trifling enjoyment to take a survey of
different worlds; I often receive a great deal of pleasure from such a
journey, although but in imagination; what must it be then to perform
it in reality? It would be much more delightful than going from here
to Japan; in other words, than crawling from one end of the earth to
the other with great labour, merely for the sake of seeing men. Well,
said she, let us make this tour to the planets as we can; what should
prevent us? We will place ourselves at all those different points of
view, and at each of them survey the universe. Have we any thing else
to see in the moon? You are not yet thoroughly acquainted with that
world, I replied. You recollect that the two motions of the moon, by
one of which she turns on her axis, and by the other round us, being
equal, the latter always prevents the former from withdrawing any
part from our sight, and consequently we always view the same side.
That half therefore is the only part that can see our world, and as
the moon, with regard to us, must be considered not to turn on her
centre, the half to which we are visible, sees us always fixed in the
same part of the sky.[32] When it is night, and the nights there are
as long as our fortnight, she sees at first only a very small part
of the earth enlightened; then a larger portion, and at length the
light seems hourly to spread over the earth, till it becomes entirely
luminous. On the contrary these changes in the moon are visible to
us only from one night to another, because we are a long time without
seeing her. I should like to hear the mistakes which the philosophers
of that world fall into from the apparent immobility of our earth,
whilst all the other heavenly bodies rise and set in the space of a
fortnight. Probably they consider the earth immovable in consequence
of her enormous size, being sixty times larger than the moon; and when
the poets are disposed to flatter indolent princes, I have no doubt
but they compare them to this orb in her state of majestic repose. It
does not however appear an entire immobility. From the moon they must
see the earth turn on her axis. Our Europe, Asia, America, present
themselves one after another, in different shapes, nearly as they are
represented on our maps. Only imagine what a novel sight this must be
to travellers coming from the other side of the moon to that which is
always facing us! How incredulously _they_ must have heard the accounts
of the first that spoke of it, who lived at the opposite side. It is
come into my head, said the Marchioness, that from that half of the
moon to the other they make pilgrimages to come and examine us, and
that particular honours and privileges are destined for those who have
seen the great planet. At least, answered I, they who constantly see us
have the privilege of being better illumined during their nights; the
inhabitants of the other side must be much less agreeably situated in
that respect.

[Footnote 32: That is to say only at the same distance from the zenith
and the horizon.]

Now, madam, let us pursue our journey to the different planets; we
have been long enough at the moon. Next, in the road from the moon to
the sun, we find Venus. In talking of Venus I shall resume my argument
concerning St. Dennis. Venus, as well as the moon, turns on her axis
and goes round the sun: with telescopes it is seen that this planet,
like the moon, is sometimes a crescent, sometimes on the decrease
sometimes full, according to her different situations relatively to
the earth. The moon, according to all appearances, is inhabited; why
then should Venus be destitute of inhabitants? But, interrupted the
Marchioness, with your _why nots_ you will put inhabitants in all the
planets. Certainly, I replied, this _why not_ has the power of peopling
them all. We find that they are of the same nature, all opaque bodies,
illumined only by the sun, and the reflection of his rays on each
other; and having all the same motions. So far then they are alike,
and yet we are to suppose that these great planets were formed to
remain uninhabited, and that such being the natural condition of them
all, an exception should be made in favour of the earth--let who will
believe it; I cannot. A few minutes, answered she, have wonderfully
confirmed your opinion. Just now the moon was on the point of being
quite deserted, and you cared very little about the matter, and now,
if one were to presume to deny that all the planets are as full of
inhabitants as the earth, I see you would be quite in a passion. It
is true, said I, that in the positive fit I had just now, if you had
contradicted me on the subject of these said inhabitants, I should
not only have maintained their existence, but in all probability have
described their formation. There are certain moments when we feel
assured of a thing, and I never felt so fully persuaded of my opinion
as I was then; however, though my ardour is now a little abated, I
still think it would be very strange for the earth to be so well
inhabited, and the other planets perfectly solitary; and numerous as we
know the inhabitants of the earth to be, we do not see them all, our
world contains as many species of animals that are invisible to us, as
of those that we discern. From the elephant to the hand-worm we can
examine them; there our sight is bounded: but after the hand-worm is an
infinitude of little animals not discernible by the naked eye, and to
which, in point of size, he is an elephant. With magnifying glasses,
we may see a drop of water, vinegar, or any other liquor, filled with
little fishes or serpents, which we should never have thought of
finding there; and some philosophers suppose the taste of these liquors
is produced by punctures which the little animals make in the tongue.
Mix these liquors with certain things, expose them to the sun, or leave
it to corrupt, and you will find new sorts of animals.

Many masses, apparently solid, contains scarcely any thing but a
heap of these small animals, which in so confined a situation find
room enough for their little movements. The leaf of a tree is a
world, inhabited by worms imperceptibly small, to which it appears
an amazing extent, having mountains and caverns, and so large that
from one side of the leaf to the other the little worms have no more
communication with each other than we have with the antipodes. From
such considerations I cannot doubt of a great planet being inhabited.
There have been found even in very hard stones an endless number of
worms lodged in every interstice, feeding on parts of the stone.
Consider the countless numbers of these little beings, and how many
years they could subsist on a quantity of food as big as a grain of
sand; and then though the moon should be but a mass of rock, we may let
it be eaten by its inhabitants rather than not assign any to it. In
short every thing is animated; every thing is full of life. Associate
in your calculation all the species that have been lately discovered,
and those that we may suppose are yet undiscovered, with all that we
are in the habit of seeing, and you will surely confess that the earth
is amply stocked with living creatures; that nature must delight in
bestowing life since she has created such infinite variety of beings so
small as to elude our sight. Can you believe that after the earth has
been thus made to abound with life, the rest of the planets have not a
living creature in them?

My reason is convinced, answered the Marchioness; but my imagination
is overwhelmed with such an infinite variety and number of inhabitants
existing in each of the planets; for as there is no dull uniformity in
nature, the difference of species must be in proportion to the number
of beings--how can imagination grasp such a vast idea? Imagination, I
replied, is not required to represent all this to us; we can penetrate
no farther than we are assisted by our sight; we can only perceive,
from a general glance, that nature has established an inconceivable
diversity in her works. The human face is formed every where on the
same plan, but still how great is the difference between the visages of
Europeans and of Africans or Tartars: not only in separate nations do
we find a distinguishing character of countenance, even among the same
people every family seems formed from a distinct model. How astonishing
is the power of nature in giving such variety to so simple an object!
In the universe we are but as a little family whose faces resemble each
other; the next planet contains another family who have a different
style of countenance. Probably the variations are greater in proportion
to the distance, and could we compare the inhabitants of the earth
and moon, we should easily see that they were nearer neighbours than
those of the earth and of Saturn. Here, for instance, our thoughts are
made vocal; the people in another planet only express themselves by
gestures; farther off, they may dispense with any sort of conversation.
Here our reason is matured by experience; elsewhere experience may add
little to the understanding; at a greater distance, children may know
as much as old men. In this world we give ourselves more uneasiness
about the future than the past; on another globe, the past afflicts
more than the future; on a third, the people are neither distressed by
one nor the other, and they perhaps are not the most unhappy. It is
said that we are possibly in want of a sixth sense belonging to our
nature, by means of which our knowledge would be greatly augmented.
This sense is most likely in some other world, where one of our five is
wanting. There may even be a very great number of natural senses, but
in the distribution of them among the planets, only five have fallen
to our share, and with these five we remain satisfied because we don't
know of any more. Our sciences have certain limits which no human
understanding has exceeded: at a particular point we stop, the rest is
reserved for other worlds, where they are ignorant of many things that
we know. This planet is blest with the delightful emotions of love, but
at the same time desolated by the fury of war. Another enjoys perpetual
tranquillity, but with this uninterrupted peace, love is unknown, and
calmness degenerates into ennui. In short whatever nature has done on
a small scale, for the distribution of happiness and talents among us,
she has undoubtedly performed on a more extensive plan for the benefit
of the universe; at once diversifying and equalizing all.

Are you satisfied, madam, said I? Have I given your imagination room to
exert itself? Do you not already see the people of different planets?
No, answered she, with a sigh: all you have been saying is so vague and
unsatisfactory; there is nothing in it for the mind to fix on. I want
something more determined; more marked. Well then, I replied, I will
not conceal any particulars that I am acquainted with: I can give you
some information that you will acknowledge to be undoubted, when I tell
you my authorities. Prepare to listen patiently if you please, for it
is a long story.

In one of the planets, I shall not at present tell you which, there is
a people that are very active, laborious and skillful. Like some of our
Arabs, they live by pillage, and that is their only fault. They live
together in the most harmonious manner, labouring incessantly and in
concert, for the common good: above all their chastity is unexampled;
it is true they have no great merit in it; they are all sterile; there
is no difference of sex among them. But, interrupted the Marchioness,
were you not aware that the author of this marvellous story wanted
to make a fool of you? How could such a nation be perpetuated? No, I
replied, very coolly, they did not intend to make a fool of me; all
that I have told you is fact, yet the nation is perpetuated. They
have a queen whose royalty consists, not in directing the business
of the state, not in leading her subjects to the field of battle,
but in her surprizing fecundity, she has millions of children; in
short the production of them occupies the whole of her time. She has
a large palace, divided into a vast number of chambers, in each of
which a cradle is prepared for a little prince, and she is confined
successively in all these chambers, always surrounded by her courtiers
who congratulate her on the noble privilege she enjoys exclusively of
her subjects.

I see, madam, that you wish to enquire who are her lovers, or, to give
them a more respectable appellation, her husbands. Some of the eastern
queens have seraglios of men; she apparently does the same, but she
keeps it a greater secret than they; this may arise from modesty, but
it is acting with little dignity. Among these Arabs who are always
in action, are found a few strangers, in person very much resembling
the natives of the country, though extremely different in disposition,
for they are remarkably indolent; they never stir out nor engage in
any business; and were not these persons kept for the pleasure of the
queen, they would hardly be suffered to remain amongst so industrious a
people. If, in reality, notwithstanding the smallness of their number,
they are the fathers of many thousands of children, they deserve to be
excused from any other employment; and it is a striking proof that this
is their only function, that as soon as the queen has brought forth
her ten thousand children, the Arabs kill, without mercy, the unhappy
foreigners, then become useless to the state.

Have you done? enquired the Marchioness. Thank heavens! Let us now
resume a little common sense, if we can. Where have you picked up this
romance? What poet is the inventor of it? I again tell you, answered I,
that it is no romance. All this takes place on our globe, even under
our eyes.--If I must explain the mystery, these Arabs are no other than
bees.

After this I gave her the natural history of bees, of which she had
before scarcely ever heard more than the name. In concluding, you see,
said I, that in attributing to other planets what is daily passing
here, we should be accused of telling the most extravagant falsehoods.
The history of insects, in particular, is a collection of wonders. I
have no doubt of it, she replied: the silk-worm alone, with which I was
better acquainted than the bees, would afford abundant materials for
your descriptions. A people undergoing such wonderful changes as to
be totally unlike what they formerly were; at one part of their lives
crawling, at another, flying: in short a thousand incredible things
might be told of the character and manners of this nation.

My imagination continued the Marchioness, is beginning to work on the
subject you have given me--the inhabitants of all the planets: I am
conjecturing their figures; I can discern some of them very distinctly,
but I don't know how to describe them to you. As to their figures, said
I, I advise you to leave the formation of them to your dreams: we shall
hear to-morrow what they have suggested, and whether they have been
able to represent the inhabitants of any of the planets.

                            ══════════════




                           _FOURTH EVENING._

                            ══════════════

          PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLANETS VENUS, MERCURY,
                       MARS, JUPITER AND SATURN.

                            ══════════════


The dreams of the Marchioness did not assist her; they represented
nothing that did not bear a resemblance to what we see here. I
had the same complaints to make as certain people, whose
paintings are always fanciful and grotesque, do at the sight of our
pictures,--_Pshaw_, say they, _these are all men; here are no objects
of imagination_. We therefore resolved to content ourselves with the
conjectures we should be able to make concerning the inhabitants of
the planets as we continued our journey: we had last night got as far
as Venus. We are assured, said I, that Venus turns on her axis, but it
is not ascertained in how long a time, consequently we cannot tell the
length of her days. Her years lasts but about eight months, as she is
not longer than that in performing her revolution round the sun. She
is of the same size as the earth, therefore the earth and Venus appear
equally large to each other. I am glad of that, said the Marchioness;
then I hope the earth is to Venus the shepherd's star, and the parent
of love, as Venus is to us. These appellations can be proper only for
a pretty little, brilliant, gay looking planet. True, answered I; but
do you know what makes Venus look so beautiful at a distance?--it is
the effect of her being very frightful when near. With good telescopes
it has been seen that she is covered with mountains, much higher than
ours, sharp-pointed, and apparently very dry.[33] This kind of surface
is the best calculated to reflect the light with great brilliancy.
Our earth, whose surface is very smooth, compared with that of Venus,
and partly covered with water, probably looks less beautiful at a
distance. So much the worse, said the Marchioness; I should like her to
preside over the loves of the inhabitants of Venus; they must certainly
understand what love is. Oh! undoubtedly, I replied; the people in
that planet, are all Celadons and Sylvanders, and their every-day
conversations are finer than the most admired in Clelia. Their climate
is very favourable to the tender passion. Venus is nearer to the sun
than we; and receives more light and heat: she is about two thirds the
distance of the earth, from the sun.

[Footnote 33: M. Herschel's observations contradict this idea. Venus
has a very dense atmosphere, which prevents us from distinguishing any
thing on her surface; the brilliant appearance of this planet arises
from her proximity to the earth.]

I can see, interrupted the Marchioness, what sort of people the
inhabitants are. They are much like the Moors of Granada: a little
dark, sun-burnt people, scorched with the sun; full of wit and
animation, always in love, always making verses, listening to music,
having galas, dances and tournaments. Give me leave to tell you, madam,
answered I, that you know but little of the inhabitants of Venus. Our
Moors of Granada when compared with them would appear as cold and
stupid as Greenlanders.

But what must the inhabitants of Mercury be? We are above twice the
distance from the sun that they are. They must be almost mad with
vivacity. Like most of the negroes, they are without memory; never
reflecting; acting by starts and at random: in short Mercury is the
bedlam of the universe. The sun appears there nine times larger than it
does to us: the light they receive is so brilliant that our finest days
would be but twilight in comparison of theirs; perhaps they would find
them so dark as not to be able to distinguish one thing from another.
The heat to which they are accustomed is so intense, that they would
be almost frozen in our Africa. In all probability our iron, silver
and gold would be melted in their world, and only be seen in a liquid
state, as we in general have water, which in some degrees of cold
becomes a solid body. The inhabitants of Mercury would not imagine
that in another world those liquors, which perhaps form their rivers,
are the hardest of all bodies. Their year lasts but three months. The
length of their day is not known to us, because Mercury is so small
and so near the sun, that it exceeds the art of all our astronomers to
observe him with sufficient accuracy to determine what sort of motion
he has on his centre: the inhabitants, I think, must wish it to be
performed in a short time, for scorched as they are with the fierceness
of the sun, the coolness of night is undoubtedly very desirable to
them. The part which by rotation is deprived of the sun's light, is
illumined by Venus and the earth, which must appear very large. As to
the other planets, being farther off than the earth, they, seen from
Mercury, appear much smaller than to us, and afford very little light
to that planet.

I don't feel so much for its inhabitants on that account, replied the
Marchioness, as from the inconvenience they must suffer from such
excessive heat. Let us try if we can't relieve them in some way. Is it
not probable they have long and plentiful showers, such as we are told
fall continually for four months together, in our hot countries, at the
seasons when the heat is most intense?

It may be the case, answered I; and we have another way of giving
them relief. There are some parts of China which from their situation
ought to be very hot, and yet, even in the month of July and August
the weather is so cold that their rivers freeze. This coldness arises
from the quantities of salt-petre with which the countries abound;
the exhalations, drawn up in great abundance by the heat are of a
cold nature. Mercury, if you please, shall be a little planet made of
salt-petre, and the sun, by attracting the cooling exhalations, will
thus prevent the evil it would otherwise be the cause of. However,
we may rest assured that nature would not place beings where it was
impossible for them to exist; and that habit, and ignorance of a better
climate, render this situation agreeable: Mercury therefore may perhaps
do very well without salt-petre, or abundant rains.

After Mercury, you know, we find the sun. We cannot possibly place
inhabitants there: the _why not_ fails in this case. We conclude from
the earth being inhabited that other bodies of the same nature must
be so too: but the sun does not resemble the earth, and the rest of
the planets. He is the source of all that light which the planets only
reflect to each other after they have received it from him. They make
exchanges, if I may so express myself, with one another, but none of
them can bestow an original light. The sun is the sole proprietor of
that treasure; which he distributes freely on every side. The light,
thus issuing from the centre, is reflected from every solid body it
meets, and from one planet to another it proceeds in bright streams
that intermix, and cross each other in a thousand directions, forming
a splendid tissue of the richest materials. The grand luminary by
being placed in the centre is in the most advantageous situation for
animating each planet with his heat and radiance. The sun, then, is
of a peculiar nature, but what that nature is, we find it difficult
to imagine. Formerly it was believed to be a pure fire, but lately we
have been undeceived by observing spots on the surface. As certain new
planets had just before been discovered, (I shall give you an account
of these planets hereafter;) which entirely engrossed the attention
of the philosophers, a sort of mania for new planets seized their
minds, and they immediately concluded these spots were some; that they
performed a circle round the sun, and necessarily concealed some part
of his light by turning their dark side towards the earth. The learned
already, through these planets, complimented the different princes of
Europe. Some gave them the name of one prince; some of another, and
perhaps in time there would have been a great contest to know who had
the best right to name these spots.

I don't like their plan, said the Marchioness. You told me, the other
day, that the different parts of the moon were named after learned
men; I thought that very proper: as princes monopolize the earth, it
is but fair that astronomers should have the sky for their share, and
not suffer princes to intrude on their domain. Allow them, however,
I replied, if territory should be wanting, to consign to them some
planet, or some part of the moon. As to these spots on the sun, they
can make no use of them; for instead of planets, we find they are only
clouds of smoke or dross arising from the sun. Sometimes these clouds
are greatly accumulated, sometimes we see little of them, and at other
times they totally disappear. Sometimes a number of them are combined
together, then they are separated into small parts; at one time they
are very dark, at another they grow pale. It appears as if the sun
was some kind of liquid; many people think it is melted gold, in a
continual state of ebullition, producing impurities, which the rapidity
of its motion casts up from the surface; they are afterwards consumed
and others produced. Only think what amazing bodies these are. Some
of them are seventeen hundred times[34] larger than the earth, for
you must know, the earth is more than a million times smaller than the
sun.[35] Imagine therefore what must be the quantity of this liquid
gold, or the extent of this ocean of light and fire!

[Footnote 34: The largest of the sun's spots are scarcely three times
larger than the diameter of the earth, or twenty-seven times its bulk.]

[Footnote 35: The earth is only a hundred, or to speak with more
exactness, a hundred and eleven times, smaller.]

Other philosophers say, and with great plausibility, that the spots, or
at least the greatest part of them, are not newly produced, and then
destroyed after a certain time; but large, solid, masses, of irregular
forms, always subsisting; sometimes floating on the surface of the
sun, sometimes partly, or entirely buried in the liquid substance, and
presenting to our view different projections according to the size of
the part that remains uncovered. Perhaps they may be parts of some
great mass of matter which serves as aliment to the fire of the sun.
However, let the sun be what it will, it does not by any means appear
habitable.[36] It is a pity; the situation would be advantageous:
placed at the centre, its inhabitants would see the planets going
round them in regular orbits, whilst to us their motions seem to have
perplexing varieties, which are merely the effect of our not observing
them from the best place; that is, the centre of their circles. What a
sad thing it is: there is but one spot where the study of the celestial
bodies would be extremely easy, and at that spot there is nobody to
pursue the study. You forget yourself, answered the Marchioness. Were
any one placed on the sun, he would neither see the planets nor the
fixed stars; would not the light of the sun efface every other object?
The inhabitants would doubtless think themselves the only people in
existence.

[Footnote 36: Some natural philosophers have however thought that the
sun might be the cause of heat without being itself hot; and that there
was a possibility of its being inhabited. M. Herschel believes its
population very abundant. Trans. Philos. 1795. Décade Philosophique.]

I acknowledge my error, I replied: I was thinking of the situation of
the sun, without considering the effect of such an excessive light: but
although you have so properly corrected my mistake, yet you must allow
me to tell you that you have fallen into one yourself. The inhabitants
of the sun would not see any thing: they would be either incapable
of enduring so immoderate a light, or, were their eyes sufficiently
strong, of receiving it unless they were at some distance; therefore
the sun could only be a habitation for people without sight. In short,
we have abundant proofs that this luminary was not intended to be a
dwelling-place; and therefore we may as well continue our planetary
journey. We are now stopping at the central point which is always the
lowest part in any thing that is round; and, by the way, I should tell
you that in going from our world to this centre we have travelled
thirty-three millions of leagues. We must now return the way we came.
We pass by Mercury, Venus, the Earth and the Moon; all which we have
visited. Then we arrive at Mars. I don't know that there is any thing
remarkable in this planet. The days there are about half an hour longer
than ours; and the years twice the length of ours, except a month and a
half. Mars is four times less than the earth,[37] and the sun appears
rather smaller and less brilliant than it does to us.--In short, Mars
contains nothing calculated to arrest our attention.

[Footnote 37: Its volume, or bulk is five times smaller.]

But what a beautiful object is Jupiter, surrounded by his four moons,
or satellites! These moons are four little planets which, whilst
Jupiter revolves in twelve years round the sun, constantly go round him
as the moon does round the earth. But, interrupted the Marchioness,
how is it that there are planets which go round other planets, no
better than themselves? It seems to me that there would be much more
regularity and uniformity in assigning to all the planets but one sort
of orbit in which they should move round the sun.

Ah! madam, I replied, were you but acquainted with the vortices of
Descartes; those vortices, so terrible in name, and so charming in the
ideas they give rise to; you would not talk in this way. My wits must
all go, said she, laughing. I must know what these vortices are. Make
me quite mad at once: now I have dipped into philosophy I can't trouble
myself about the care of my senses: spite of the world's laughter, we
will talk of the vortices. I did not know you had so much enthusiasm,
said I; 'tis pity it has no other object than vortices.

What we call a vortex is a quantity of matter, whose detached parts
move all in the same direction, but allowed at the same time to have
some little movements peculiar to themselves, provided they still
pursue the general course. A vortex of wind, for instance, is a vast
number of little particles of air, turning all together in a circular
direction, and involving whatever comes in their way. The planets you
know are borne along by the celestial fluid, which is prodigiously
subtle and active. All the celestial matter, from the sun to the fixed
stars, constantly turns round, carries the planets along with it, and
makes them proceed round the sun in the same direction, but in longer
or shorter periods, according to their distance from the centre. Even
the sun is made to turn on his axis by being exactly in the midst of
this moving matter; you will therefore observe, that if the earth were
in the central situation she could not be exempted from this rotation.

Such is the great vortex of which the sun is master; but the planets,
at the same time, form little vortices in imitation of the sun. Each
of them whilst turning round the sun, turns likewise on itself, and
carries in its motion a certain portion of the celestial matter,
which is ready to receive any impulse that would not prevent it from
following the general course: this is a vortex of any particular
planet, and it extends as far as the motion of this planet has any
influence. If a smaller planet comes within the vortex of a larger one,
it is irresistibly carried round that larger one, and altogether, the
large, and the small planet, and the vortex that encloses them, perform
their revolution round the sun. Thus at the commencement of creation we
obliged the moon to follow us because she came within the influence of
our vortex, and was by that mean subjugated to our will. Jupiter, the
planet we were speaking of, was more fortunate, or more powerful than
the earth. Four little planets were in his neighbourhood, and he became
master of them all; and we, who are a planet of some importance, would
probably have felt his power if we had been near him. He is a thousand
times larger than the earth;[38] and would easily have drawn us into
his vortex, and made us one of his moons; instead of this we have a
planet to attend on us: so true is it that the situation into which we
are thrown decides the fate of our lives.

[Footnote 38: We may even say thirteen hundred times.]

And how do we know, answered the Marchioness, that we shall always
remain where we are? I begin to tremble lest we should be foolish
enough to approach such an enterprizing planet as Jupiter, or that he
should come to us, for the sake of drawing us into his vortex; for
I can't help thinking, from your description of the agitated state
of this celestial fluid, that it must move the planets irregularly,
sometimes urging them nearer together, sometimes sending them to a
greater distance. We may as well expect to gain as to lose by such an
eccentric motion, said I; perhaps we may make a conquest of Mercury or
Mars, which are smaller planets, and incapable of resisting us. However
we have no occasion for either hope or fear; the planets will remain in
their places; and, like the former kings of China, they are forbidden
to aim at conquest. You have observed that when oil is mixed with
water, the oil swims at the top. Put any substance that is extremely
light on both these, and the oil will support it, so that it shall not
touch the water: but put a heavier body, of a certain weight, it will
pass through the oil, which is too weak to stop it, and keep falling
till it meets the water, which has sufficient force to bear it up.
Thus two liquors put together, being of unequal weight, will not mix,
but place themselves in different situations; and neither will one
rise, nor the other descend: pour on these other liquors which are of
a nature to remain separate, and the same effect is still produced. In
like manner the celestial matter which fills this grand vortex, is in
separate strata, encircling each other, and of unequal weight, like oil
and water, and some other liquors. Some planets likewise are heavier
than others,[39] each therefore stops in the layer which has the degree
of force necessary for supporting it, and keeping it in a state of
equilibrium; and you must be convinced that it can never go beyond this
stratum.

[Footnote 39: The Cartesians carried their illusion so far as to
believe that so solid a mass as a planet could be steadily supported by
the ætherial fluid, the most subtle of all fluids.]

I understand, replied the Marchioness, that the different degrees of
weight are sufficient to keep them in their proper ranks. I wish with
all my heart there was some such regulating power among us, that would
serve to fix people in the situation most suitable to them! You have
quite removed my uneasiness with regard to Jupiter. I am very glad he
will let us remain quietly with our little vortex, and single moon. I
feel very well contented with one attendant, and do not envy him his
four.

You would do wrong if you did, said I; he has no more than are
necessary. He is five times farther from the sun than we, that is,
a hundred and sixty-five[40] millions of leagues distant from it,
consequently his moons receive, and reflect, but a feeble light: the
number therefore compensates for the little effect produced by each:
were they not separately so inefficient, four moons would appear
unnecessary, as Jupiter turns on his axis in ten hours, and of course
the nights are very short. The satellite which is the nearest to
Jupiter, performs its circle round him in two-and-forty hours; the
next in three days and a half; the third, in seven; the fourth, in
seventeen; and by the inequality of their progress, they form a most
pleasing spectacle for this planet. At one time they rise all four
together; then, almost immediately separate; sometimes they are all
at the full, placed in a line, one above another; afterwards they are
seen at equal distances in the sky; then when two are rising the other
two will set. Above all I should like to see the perpetual variety of
eclipses among them, for there is not a day passes in which they do not
eclipse each other, or the sun.[41] Surely as eclipses are so familiar
to the inhabitants of that world, they must be considered a subject of
amusement, rather than terror, as they are here.

[Footnote 40: Calculating with more exactness, 179.]

[Footnote 41: Or; we may add, in which they are not eclipsed by the
shadow of Jupiter, which happens the most frequently.]

You will not fail, I suppose, said the Marchioness, to people these
four moons, though they are only little subaltern planets, intended
merely to give light to another during the night. Undoubtedly not, I
replied. These little planets are not unworthy of inhabitants because
they are unfortunate enough to be subjected to a larger planet.

I think, then, answered she, these satellites ought to be like colonies
to Jupiter; that their inhabitants should, if possible, receive from
him their laws and customs, and in return, render him some degree of
homage, and always consider the great planet with respect. Would it
not be needful, said I, for the moons occasionally to send deputies
to Jupiter, who should take an oath of fidelity to him? I must own
the little superiority we possess over the people in our moon makes
me doubt whether Jupiter has much influence over the inhabitants of
his satellites, and I think the only superiority he can aspire to is
that of impressing them with awe. For of what a terrific size he must
appear! To the planets nearest to him he looks sixteen hundred times
larger than our moon appears to us.[42] Truly if the Gauls in ancient
times were afraid the heavens would fall and crush them to death, the
inhabitants of this moon may with greater propriety apprehend the fall
of Jupiter. Perhaps, she replied, that is the subject of alarm to them
instead of the eclipses, which you assure me they see without fear;[43]
for as they are exempt from one folly, they must be subject to some
other. Undoubtedly, answered I. The inventor of a third system, which
I mentioned the other day, the celebrated Tycho Brahe, one of the
greatest astronomers that ever lived, felt none of the vulgar terror
at an eclipse; he was too much accustomed to study the nature of such
a phenomenon; but what do you think he was afraid of instead?--If when
he first went out of doors the first person he saw was an old woman; or
if a hare crossed the path he had taken, Tycho Brahe thought the day
would be unfortunate, and returning in haste to his apartment, he shut
himself up without venturing to engage in any occupation whatever.

[Footnote 42: Thirty-six times larger than we see the moon: and they
receive from him one thousand two hundred and ninety times more light.]

[Footnote 43: Their solar eclipses are of much longer duration than
ours.]

It would be unjust, said she, if such a man as he could not with
impunity overcome the fear of an eclipse, for the inhabitants of the
satellite we were speaking of, to be exempted from it on easier terms.
We will not spare them: they shall submit to the general doom; and if
they escape one error they shall be liable to another.

A difficulty has just occurred to me, continued she, you must remove it
if you can: if the earth is so small in comparison of Jupiter, are we
visible to the inhabitants of that planet? I am afraid we are unknown
to them.

Really I think so, answered I; the earth is certainly too small to be
distinguished by them.[44]

[Footnote 44: The earth at that distance must appear only three seconds
and a half in diameter, as the planet Herschel does to us; but our
nearness to the sun necessarily prevents them from seeing us at all.]

We can only hope that in Jupiter there may be some astronomers who,
after taking great pains to compose very excellent telescopes, and
availing themselves of the finest nights for making their observations,
may at length discover a very little planet which they had never seen
before. At first the learned give an account of it in their journal;
the rest of the people either hear nothing about it, or laugh at
it when they do; the philosophers are discouraged and resolve not
to mention it again, and but a few of the inhabitants who are more
reasonable than the others will admit the idea. By and by they examine
again; they see the little planet a second time; they are then assured
of its reality, and even begin to think it has a motion round the sun.
After observing it a thousand times, they find out that this revolution
is performed in a year: and at last, when the learned have been at
great pains to investigate the subject, the inhabitants of Jupiter know
that our world is in the universe. The curious eagerly look through
their telescopes, and with all their looking, can scarcely discern it.

Were it not disagreeable, said she, to know that from Jupiter we can
only be seen through telescopes, I should amuse myself with the idea
of all the glasses being pointed towards the earth as ours are towards
him, and the mutual curiosity with which the two planets examine each
other, and enquire, _What world is that? What sort of people inhabit
it?_

Your imagination is too rapid, I replied; when the astronomers
of Jupiter become acquainted with our earth, they do not become
acquainted with us: they will not suspect the possibility of its being
inhabited; if any one should venture to express such an idea, how they
would laugh at him! Perhaps they would even persecute any philosopher
who should maintain the opinion. After all I think the inhabitants of
Jupiter are too much occupied in making discoveries on their own globe,
to concern themselves about us. Jupiter is of such extent, that if
they are adepts in navigation their Christopher Columbus must be fully
employed. The inhabitants cannot know, even by reputation, a hundredth
part of the other inhabitants. In Mercury, on the contrary, they are
all neighbours, living familiarly together, and hardly considering the
tour of their world more than a pleasant walk. If we are not visible
to Jupiter, much less can Venus be so, who is at a still greater
distance;[45] and Mercury must be most out of its reach of all, being
the smallest, and the most distant. However, the inhabitants can see
Mars, their own four satellites, and Saturn with all his moons. Surely
then they have planets enough to perplex their astronomers; nature, in
kindness, has hid from them the rest.

[Footnote 45: Venus is not farther from Jupiter, but more concealed by
the rays of the sun.]

What! cried the Marchioness; do you consider it a kindness? Without
doubt, answered I. This great vortex contains sixteen planets; nature
to spare us the trouble of studying the motions of so many, let us see
but seven: is not that a favour? But not feeling the value of this
mark of consideration, we have, with great pains, discovered the other
nine, which had been concealed from us: our curiosity brings its own
punishment in the laborious study which astronomy now requires.

I see, she replied, by the number of planets you mention, that Saturn
must have five moons.[46] You are right, said I; and it is but just
that he should have so many, as he is thirty years in going round the
sun; and in some parts the nights last fifteen years, for the same
reason that on our globe, which turns in a year, there are nights,
beneath the poles of six months' duration. But Saturn, being at twice
the distance that Jupiter is from the sun, consequently ten times
farther than the earth; his five moons, faintly as they are illumined,
would not give sufficient light during his nights, he has therefore a
wonderful resource, the only one of the kind we have discovered in the
universe: 'tis a large circle or ring[47] which environs the planet,
and which, being sufficiently elevated to escape almost entirely the
shadow of Saturn, reflects the sun's light on the darkened parts, and
reflects it more strongly than all the five moons, because it is not so
high as the lowest of them.

[Footnote 46: He has seven, and Herschel six. In all there are
twenty-five planets, without reckoning ninety-one comets known in 1800.]

[Footnote 47: Its exterior diameter is sixty seven thousand seven
hundred leagues.]

Really, said the Marchioness, with an air of deep reflection and
astonishment, all this is managed with wonderful order; nature had
certainly in these instances a view to the wants of living beings;
this admirable disposition of light was not the effect of chance.
Only the planets which are distant from the sun have been provided
with moons--the Earth, Jupiter, and Saturn; for Venus did not require
any; nor Mercury who already has too much light; whose nights are
extremely short, and probably considered a greater blessing than even
the days. But stop--I think Mars, who is farther from the sun than
we, is without a moon. We cannot conceal the fact, I replied; he
has none; but he doubtless has resources for the night which we are
ignorant of. You have seen phosphorus; matters of that kind, whether
liquid or dry, receive and imbibe the light from the sun, which they
emit with some force when in the dark. Mars perhaps has high rocks of
phosphorus that absorb, in the day-time, light enough to irradiate the
night. You must own it would be an agreeable sight for the rocks to
light up as soon as the sun was set, and without art, produce the most
magnificent illuminations, that with all their radiance, would not have
the inconvenience of casting any heat. In America, you know, there are
birds which in the dark will afford light enough to read by: how can we
tell whether Mars has not a great number of such birds, who, as soon
as the night is come, disperse themselves on every side, and give an
artificial day?

I am not satisfied, answered she, either with your rocks or birds.
They would be pretty enough to be sure; but as nature has bestowed so
many moons on Saturn and Jupiter, it shews that moons are necessary.
I should have been very much pleased to find that all the worlds at
a great distance from the sun had some, if Mars had not formed a
disagreeable exception. Ah! replied I, if you were more deeply versed
in philosophy you must accustom yourself to see exceptions to the
best systems. We clearly see that some things are adapted in the most
perfect manner to their end; others we accommodate as well as we can,
or perhaps are obliged to content ourselves with knowing nothing about
them. Let us do so with respect to Mars, since our researches are
fruitless, and resolve to say no more about him.

We should be very much surprised, were we on Saturn, to see during
the night a great ring, extending over our heads in a semi-circular
form from one end of the horizon to the other; and by reflecting the
light of the sun, would have the effect of a moon at every part of
the circle. And are we not to have inhabitants in this great ring?
said she, laughing. Though I am disposed to place them wherever I
can, answered I, I confess I dare not tell you there are any there;
this ring appears too irregular a dwelling. As for the five moons,
we can't dispense with inhabitants for them. If the ring, however,
were what some suppose, only a circle of moons, following each other
very closely, with an equal motion, and the satellites, five of these
moons escaped out of the ring, what numbers of worlds would the
vortex of Saturn contain! Be that as it may, the people in Saturn are
uncomfortable enough, even with the help of their ring. It gives then
light, it is true; but what sort of light, at that immense distance
from the sun? The sun himself, which appears to them a hundred times
smaller[48] than to us, seems but a little pale star, emitting but a
feeble light or heat. And could they be transported to our coldest
countries, such as Greenland and Lapland, you would see them ready to
expire with the heat. If water were conveyed to their planet it would
no longer be water, but a polished stone, and spirits of wine which
never freeze here, would become hard as diamond.

[Footnote 48: Ten times less in diameter.]

Your description of Saturn petrifies me, said the Marchioness; though
just now you almost threw me into a fever in talking of Mercury. Two
worlds, answered I, which are at the different extremities of an
immense vortex, must be totally unlike.

Then, replied she, the people are very wise in Saturn, for you told me
they were all mad in Mercury. If they are not very wise, answered I,
they are at least, I suppose, very phlegmatic. Their features could not
accommodate themselves to a smile; they require a day's consideration
before they answer any question, and they would think Cato of Atica
unmanly and frivolous.

I am thinking, said she, that all the inhabitants of Saturn are slow;
all those of Mercury are quick; amongst us some belong to the former
class, some to the latter; may not that be in consequence of the
earth's being placed just in the middle situation and participating
of both extremes? The men of our world have no determined character;
some are like the inhabitants of Mercury; others resemble those of
Saturn, in short we are a compound of all the other planets. That's
a good idea, replied I; we form such a ludicrous assemblage that it
might easily be imagined we had been brought together from a variety of
worlds. We are therefore very well situated for studying character, for
this is an abstract of all the planets.

At any rate, rejoined the Marchioness, the situation of our world has
one great convenience; the heat is not oppressive as at Mercury or
Venus, nor the cold so benumbing as at Jupiter or Saturn. And we are in
a part of the earth that is not subject to the greatest degrees of heat
and cold experienced even on our own globe. If a certain philosopher
returned thanks to his Creator for having formed him a man, and not a
beast; a Greek and not a Barbarian; I think we ought to be grateful
for being born on the most temperate planet in the universe, and in
one of the most temperate parts of that planet. You ought likewise,
madam, said I, to be thankful for being young, and not old; young and
handsome, not young and ugly; a young and handsome French woman, not
a young and handsome Italian: there are many things to excite your
gratitude besides the temperature of your climate.

Ah! replied she, let us be grateful for every thing, even the vortex in
which we are placed. The happiness we enjoy is but little, we must not
lose any of it; it is well to cultivate an interest in the most common
things. If we are only alive to strong emotions our pleasures will be
few, seldom attainable, and dearly purchased. Promise me then, said
I, that when such animated pleasures are within your reach you will
think of the vortices and me, and not neglect us entirely. Very well,
said she: but will philosophy always afford me new enjoyments? For
to-morrow, at least, answered I: I have the fixed stars in reserve for
you, which surpass all that you have yet examined.

                            ══════════════




                           _FIFTH EVENING._

                            ══════════════

  EVERY FIXED STAR IS A SUN, WHICH DIFFUSES LIGHT TO ITS SURROUNDING
                                WORLDS.

                            ══════════════


The Marchioness was very impatient to know what the fixed stars
were. Are they inhabited, like the planets? said she, or are they
not peopled? What can we make of them? Perhaps you would find out
what they are, answered I, if you were to try. The fixed stars cannot
be at less distance from the earth, than twenty-seven thousand, six
hundred and sixty times[49] the earth's distance from the sun, which
is thirty-three millions of leagues: perhaps some astronomers would
tell you they are farther still. The space between the Sun and Saturn,
the most distant planet, is only three hundred and thirty millions of
leagues; that is but a trifle in comparison of the distance between the
sun, or earth, and the fixed stars, in fact, we don't take the trouble
to compute it. Their light, as you perceive, is brilliant: if they
received it from the sun, it must be very faint after travelling such
an immense journey, and by reflecting it to us it would be still more
weakened. It would be impossible for light, which had twice gone such
a long space, to appear so bright as that of the fixed stars. They are
therefore luminous in their nature, or in other words, they are so many
suns.

[Footnote 49: Or even two hundred thousand times.]

Do I mistake, cried the Marchioness, or do I see your drift? Are you
not going to say "the fixed stars are all suns: our sun is the centre
of a vortex which turns around him; why should not each fixed star
be also the centre of a vortex, turning round it? Our sun enlightens
planets; why should not every fixed star likewise enlighten planets?" I
need make no other answer, replied I, than Phœdrus made to Enone: _thou
hast named it_.

But, rejoined she, you are making the universe so unbounded that I feel
lost in it; I don't know where I am, not what I'm about. What! are
they all vortices heaped in confusion on one another? Is every fixed
star the centre of a vortex, as large perhaps as ours?[50] The amazing
space comprehending our sun and planets is but a little portion of
the universe? An equal space, occupied by each of these vortices? The
thought is fearful; overwhelming! For my part, said I, I think it very
pleasing. Were the sky only a blue arch to which the stars were fixed,
the universe would seem narrow and confined; there would not be room to
breathe: now that we attribute an infinitely greater extent and depth
to this blue firmament, by dividing it into thousands of vortices, I
seem to be more at liberty; to live in a freer air; and nature appears
with astonishingly encreased magnificence. Creation is boundless in
treasures; lavish in endowments. How grand the idea of this immense
number of vortices, the middle of each occupied by a sun, encompassed
with planets which turn around him! The inhabitants of one of these
numberless vortices, on every side behold the suns of surrounding
vortices, although the planets belonging to them are invisible, as the
light they receive from their suns cannot penetrate beyond their own
vortex.

[Footnote 50: That may be the case, but we have no proof that there are
planets turning round these stars.]

You are directing my eye, answered she, to an interminable perspective.
I see, plainly enough, the inhabitants of the earth; then you enable
me to discover, with somewhat less clearness, those of the moon and
other planets contained in our vortex. After all that you require me
to view the people that dwell in planets belonging to other vortices.
I must confess they are so much in the back ground that with all my
efforts they are scarcely perceptible to me. In short do they not seem
almost annihilated by the very expression you are obliged to make use
of in describing them? You must call them the inhabitants of one of the
planets, contained in one, out of the infinity of vortices. Surely the
very idea of ourselves is as nothing when such a description is applied
to us, when we are thus lost amongst millions of worlds. For my part,
the earth begins to diminish into such a speck, that in future I shall
hardly consider any object worthy of eager pursuit. Surely people, who
form unnumbered schemes of aggrandizement, who are wearing themselves
out in following up projects of ambition, are ignorant of the vortices.
I think my augmentation of knowledge will encrease my idleness, and
when I am reproached for being indolent I shall reply, _Ah! if you
knew the history of the fixed stars!_ Alexander could not have been
acquainted with it, answered I; for a certain author, who believes that
the moon is inhabited, tells us very seriously that it was impossible
for Aristotle to avoid receiving so rational an opinion, (could
Aristotle be ignorant of any truth?) but that he never disclosed it for
fear of displeasing Alexander, who would have been miserable to hear
of a world that he could not subjugate. There would have been a still
greater reason for keeping the vortices of the fixed stars a secret;
if any body in those days had known them, they would not have thought
of ingratiating themselves with the monarch by talking of them. It is
unfortunate that I who am acquainted with the system should not be
able to reap any benefit from it. According to your reasoning it will
only be an antidote to the disquietudes of ambition; that is not my
malady. The weakness I am most addicted to is an excessive admiration
of beauty, and I fear the vortices will have no power to assist me in
overcoming it. The immense number of worlds destroys the grandeur of
this, but it does not lessen the charms of a fine pair of eyes or a
beautiful mouth, _they_ retain their power in spite of all the worlds
that can be created.

Love is a strange thing, said she, laughing; it escapes every
corrective; there is no system that can abate its influence. But answer
me seriously; have you sufficient reason for believing this system? To
me it appears to rest on an uncertain foundation. A fixed star is of a
luminous nature like the sun, therefore you say it must, like the sun,
be a centre to a vortex containing planets which travel round the sun.
Now, is that a necessary consequence?

Listen, madam, I replied; we are so naturally disposed to mingle the
follies of gallantry with our gravest discussions, that mathematical
reasoning partakes of the nature of love. Grant ever so little to a
lover, and presently you are forced to grant him a great deal more,
and so on till you don't know how to stop. In like manner admit any
principle a mathematician proposes, he then draws a consequence which
you are obliged to admit, and from that consequence another, and thus
before you are aware he carries you so far that on a sudden you wonder
where you have got to: these two characters always take more than you
mean to give them. You must own that when two things are similar in all
that I know of them, I may reasonably think them similar in what I am
unacquainted with in respect to them. From that principle I draw the
conclusion of the moon being inhabited because she resembled the earth;
and the other planets, because they resemble the moon. And because the
fixed stars bear a resemblance to our sun, I attribute to them all that
he possesses. You have already made too many concessions to draw back,
you must go on; do it therefore with a good grace. But, said she, in
admitting this resemblance between the fixed stars and our sun, we must
suppose that the inhabitants of another great vortex see it as a little
fixed star, visible only during their nights.

That is indisputable, I replied. Our sun is so near to us in comparison
of the suns belonging to other vortices that his light must be
incomparably stronger to us than to them. When he is risen we can
discern no other heavenly body: so, in another vortex, another sun
eclipses ours, and permits it to appear only at night, with all the
other suns, then visible. With them, fixed to the blue firmament, our
sun forms a part of some imaginary figure. As to the planets that go
round him, as they are not seen at so great a distance, they are not
so much as thought of. Thus all the suns are daily luminaries to their
own vortex, and nightly ones to all the other vortices. Each reigns
alone in his own system; elsewhere, is but one of a great number.
Nevertheless, do not these worlds differ from each other in a thousand
instances, notwithstanding this equality? for a general resemblance
does not exclude a vast number of dissimilarities.

Surely, answered I: but the difficulty is to find them out. For ought
we know one vortex may have more planets revolving round its sun,
another fewer. In one there are subaltern planets, turning round
the principal planets; in another they may be all alike. Here they
all collect round their sun in a circle, beyond which is an empty
space which extends to the neighbouring vortices; in other parts of
the universe they may have their orbits at the extremities of their
vortex whilst the centre is left empty. And very likely there are some
vortices without any planets; others, whose suns, not being in the
centre, have a circular revolution, carrying their planets along with
them; others, again, whose planets may rise and set with regard to
their sun according to the change of that equilibrium which keeps them
suspended--What would you have more? Surely here is enough for a person
who has never been beyond one vortex.

All that is nothing, she replied, for the number of worlds. What you
have been imagining would suffice but for five or six, instead of
millions.

If you talk of millions now, said I, how will you count them when I
tell you there are many more fixed stars than you discover; that with
telescopes an endless number are seen which are invisible to the naked
eye; and that in a single constellation, where we might before have
counted a dozen or fifteen, there have been found as many as we were
accustomed to observe throughout the heavens?[51]

[Footnote 51: I conclude, from a pretty accurate calculation, that we
may perceive a hundred millions with a telescope that has an opening of
four feet; I have clearly distinguished fifty thousand, and my glass is
but two inches and a half in diameter.]

Have pity on me, cried she; I yield; you have overwhelmed me with
worlds and vortices. Ah! said I, but I must add something more still;
you see that white part of the sky, called the milky-way. Can you guess
what it is?--An infinity of little stars, invisible to our eyes on
account of their smallness, and placed so close to each other that they
seem but a stream of light. I wish I had a telescope here to shew you
this cluster of worlds. In some measure, they resemble the Maldivia
Isles, those twelve thousand little islands or banks of sand, separated
only by narrow canals of the sea which one might almost leap over.
The little vortices of the milky-way must be so close, that from one
world to another the people might converse or shake hands. The birds,
at least, I think, can go from one world to another; and pigeons may
be taught to carry letters as they do in our Levant from one town to
another. These little worlds must deviate from the general rule by
which the sun of any vortex effaces, at its rising, all the other suns.
In one of the little vortices contained in the milky-way the sun of
that particular vortex can hardly appear closer to its planets, or more
brilliant, than a hundred thousand other suns, in the neighbouring
vortices. The sky, then, is filled with a countless quantity of fires
almost close to each other. When they lose sight of their own sun, they
have thousands still remaining; and the night is not less enlightened
than the day; at least the difference is so trifling that we may say
there is no night. The inhabitants of those worlds, accustomed as they
are to perpetual light, would be very much astonished to hear of
miserable creatures who spend half their time in profound darkness;
and who, even during the light of day, see but one sun. They would
think we had fallen under the displeasure of nature, and shudder at our
condition.

I don't ask you, said the Marchioness, whether they have any moons in
the milky-way; they could be of no use to the principal planets, since
they have no nights, and besides that, move in so small a space that
they could not be encumbered with subaltern planets. But, continued
she, by multiplying worlds so liberally, you give rise to a great
difficulty. The vortices, of which we see the suns, touch our vortex:
the vortices you say are round; can so many circles touch this single
one? I can't understand how it is.

It shews a great deal of sense, answered I, to discover this
difficulty, and even to be unable to solve it, for it is in itself well
founded, and in the way you conceive it, unanswerable; therefore there
would be but little proof of wisdom in finding an answer to what was
incapable of any. If our vortex were in the figure of a die, it would
have six flat sides, which is very far from a circle; on each of these
sides might then be placed a vortex of the same shape. If instead of
six, it had twenty, fifty, or a thousand, flat sides, an equal number
of vortices might come in contact with it, each resting against one of
these sides. You know the greater number of flat sides a body has, the
nearer it approaches in form to a circle; so that a diamond cut into a
great number of facets, if they were extremely small, would be nearly
as round as a pearl of the same size. The vortices are only circular in
this manner. They have an amazing number of flat sides, each of which
is close to another vortex. These sides are very unequal; some larger,
some smaller. The smallest correspond to those of the milky-way. If
two vortices leave any space between, which must often be the case,
nature, to make the most of the extent, fills up the vacancy by one or
two, or perhaps a thousand, little vortices, which without incommoding
any of the others, form one, two, or a thousand more systems of worlds;
so there may be many more worlds than our vortex has sides; and I dare
say, though these little vortices are formed merely to fill up spare
corners of the universe that would otherwise have been useless; though
they may be overlooked by the neighbouring vortices, yet they are
quite satisfied with themselves. It is probably such little vortices
whose suns we cannot discover without telescopes, of which there is
a prodigious number. In short all these vortices are adjusted in the
best order imaginable; and as each of them must turn round its sun
without changing place, it is formed to move in the most easy and
commodious manner for that purpose. They, as it were, catch hold of
each other, like the wheels of a watch, and mutually assist the motion.
It is likewise true that in a sense they counteract one another: each
vortex if it had no external pressure would extend itself; but when
it attempts to swell it is repelled by the surrounding vortices,
which forces it to shrink back; then it extends again, and so on:[52]
some philosophers think that the fixed stars give such a sparkling,
intermittent light in consequence of this alternate expansion and
contraction of the vortices.

[Footnote 52: The preservation of the starry system is more
satisfactorily explained by attraction; they are all kept in
equilibrium by their mutual attraction.]

There is something agreeable, said the Marchioness, in the idea of
such a combat among the worlds, and the reciprocal emission of light
produced by it, which apparently is the only communication carried on
between them.

No, no, I replied, that is not the only one. The neighbouring worlds
sometimes send us visitors, who come, in a very magnificent style.
These visitors are comets,[53] ornamented with brilliant flowing hair,
a venerable beard, or a majestic train.

[Footnote 53: It is indisputably proved that the comets belong to our
solar system.]

Ah! what ambassadors? said she, laughing. We could dispense with their
company, for they only frighten us. They only frighten children,
answered I, because their appearance is extraordinary; but there are
many children among us. The comets are merely planets, belonging to
another system. Their orbit was towards the extremity of their vortex,
which was perhaps differently compressed by those that surrounded it;
the lower side, on that account was flatter than the top, and the lower
side was next to us. These planets, beginning at the upper part to form
their circle, did not foresee that it would extend beyond the limit of
their vortex, at the lower part; in order, therefore, to continue their
circular journey, they were obliged to enter the extremities of the
next vortex, which we will suppose is ours. They always appear to us
extremely elevated, moving on the other side of Saturn. Considering the
prodigious distance of the fixed stars, there must be between Saturn
and the extremities of our vortex a great space void of planets. Our
enemies reproach us with the inutility of this space, but we find there
is a use for it, as it is devoted to the service of foreign planets
that occasionally enter our system.

I understand, said she; we don't allow them to penetrate into the heart
of our vortex, and mix with our planets; we receive them as the Grand
Signior receives the ambassadors that are sent to him. He does not
honour them with a lodging in Constantinople, but assigns them one in
the environs. There is another point of resemblance, I replied, between
us and the Ottomans: they receive ambassadors without sending any in
return; and we receive the comets without sending any of our planets to
return their visits.

From all these circumstances, answered she, we seem to be very proud:
yet we should not hastily form that conclusion; these strange planets
have a very menacing air with their beards and trains; perhaps they are
only sent to insult us; ours not having so imposing an appearance would
not be so well calculated to inspire those worlds with awe. The tails
and beards, I replied, are merely extraneous: the planets themselves do
not differ from ours; but in entering our vortex they assume the beard
or train from a certain illumination derived from our sun. This, by the
bye, has not been very well explained by our astronomers; however, they
are sure it is only some sort of illumination, and they must tell us
more of it when they can. Then I wish, rejoined she, that our Saturn
would take a beard or a tail, and frighten the other vortices; then
laying aside his terrific appendages, return to us and perform his
ordinary functions. He would do better to stay where is, answered I.
You recollect I explained to you the shock produced by the repulsive
power of each vortex: I think a poor planet must be violently shaken
in such a situation, and the inhabitants cannot feel much the better
for passing through it. We think ourselves vastly unfortunate when a
comet makes its appearance, whereas we ought to consider the comet
most unfortunate. I am not inclined to pity it, said the Marchioness;
I dare say all its inhabitants arrive here in good health, and it
must be extremely entertaining to them to go into a new vortex. We
who always remain in our own have but a dull life. If the people in a
comet have the sense to know the time at which they shall pass into
our vortex, those who have already been the journey, are just before
busily employed in describing to the rest what they will see. Speaking
of Saturn, they say: "You will presently see a planet with a great ring
round it. Then, you will discover one followed by four small planets."
Some of these people, perhaps are set to watch the moment of entering
our system: when it is arrived they cry _new sun, new sun_, as our
sailors exclaim _land, land_.

I find then, said I, it is useless to attempt raising your compassion
for the comets: I hope, however, you will not refuse it to the
inhabitants of a vortex whose sun has been extinguished, and who are
thus condemned to perpetual darkness. Suns extinguished? cried she.
Yes, undoubtedly, I replied. The ancients saw certain fixed stars
which are no longer visible.[54] These suns have been deprived of their
light: ruin must have ensued throughout the vortex; a general mortality
on all the planets; for how could existence be maintained without the
sun? The thought is too dreadful, said she; is it not possible to evade
it? I'll tell you, answered I, what some very intelligent people have
imagined. They think that the fixed stars that have disappeared are
not extinct, but partly darkened; that is to say, that they have one
side obscure; the other luminous: that as they turn on themselves, they
first present the light part to us, and then the dark, when that is
the case we cease to see them. Apparently the fifth moon belonging to
Saturn is in this condition, for during one part of its revolution we
entirely lose sight of it; at which time it is not most remote from the
earth; on the contrary, it is then sometimes nearer than when visible.
Though this moon is a planet, and therefore cannot exactly guide our
opinion with respect to suns, yet we may suppose that a sun can be
partly covered by fixed spots. To spare you the pain of believing the
other opinion, we will adopt this, which is more agreeable: but I can
only receive it when applied to such fixed stars as have a regular
time for appearing and disappearing, as some have lately been observed
to do, otherwise we cannot suppose them half suns. What must we say to
the stars that disappear, and do not become visible after a time that
would certainly have been sufficient for turning on their axis? You are
too just to require me to believe that they are half suns: however I
will do all in my power to serve you; we will conclude that these stars
are not extinguished, but plunged in the unfathomable depth of the sky,
and thus become invisible; in this case the vortex would accompany its
sun, and all go on as usual. It is true that the greatest part of the
fixed stars have not any motion which removes them farther from us, for
if they were not always equally distant, they would sometimes appear
larger, sometimes smaller; but that is not the case.

[Footnote 54: In 1572 and 1604, some beautiful stars appeared to burst
into light, and afterwards become extinct. Astron. Art. 792.]

We will therefore suppose that some of the small vortices, being light
and active, slip betwixt the others, and return after they have made
their tour, whilst the larger systems remain immoveable. But there is
one inevitable misfortune: there are some fixed stars, which for a
long time are alternately visible and invisible, and at length totally
disappear. Half suns would re-appear at a regular time; others that
had retreated to an immense distance would at once disappear, and be
concealed for a very long time: exert therefore all your resolution,
madam; these stars are certainly suns which grow so dark as to be
invisible to us, then resume their brightness, and afterwards are
entirely extinguished. How, exclaimed the Marchioness, can a sun, a
source of light, become darkened? With the greatest ease, answered I,
if Descartes be in the right. He imagines that the spots on our sun,
being impurities, or vapours, may grow thick, collect together, form
themselves into a mass, and continue to encrust the sun till it is
quite hid. If, the sun is a fire connected with a solid matter, serving
as its aliment, we are not in a better condition; the solid matter may
be consumed. 'Tis said we have already had a fortunate escape: the
sun during several years, (the year, for instance, after the death
of Cæsar;) appeared very pale; owing to the encrustation which was
beginning to form. The sun had sufficient force to break and disperse
it; had it continued, we should have been lost. You make me tremble,
said the Marchioness. Now I know the consequences of paleness in the
sun, instead of going to my glass every morning to see if _I_ am pale,
I think I shall go and look whether _the sun_ is so. Take courage,
madam, I replied, it requires a good deal of time to ruin a system
of worlds. But, answered she, it seems as if time would inevitably
effect it. I cannot take upon me to deny it, said I. The immense mass
of matter which composes the universe is in continual motion, even
the smallest particles of it, and since there is this motion we are in
danger, for changes must happen, either slowly or rapidly, but always
in a time proportioned to the effect. The ancients were so vastly
wise as to imagine the heavenly bodies were of such a nature as never
to alter, because they had not observed any alteration in them. Had
they leisure to assure themselves of this by experience? Compared
with us the ancients were young: if flowers that last but a day were
to transmit their histories to each other, the first would draw the
resemblance of their gardener in a certain way; after fifteen thousand
ages of these flowers had elapsed, others would still describe him in
the same manner. They would say; "We have always had the same gardener,
the memoirs composed by our ancestors prove this to be the case; all
their representations exactly apply to him; surely he is not mortal
like us; no change will ever take place in him." Would the reasoning
of these flowers be conclusive?--it would have a better foundation
than that of the ancients respecting the celestial bodies; and had
there never to this day been observed any change in the heavens, though
they should appear likely to remain much longer without alteration,
I would not yet decide on them; I should think more experience
necessary. Should the term of our existence, which is but a moment,
be the measure for other durations? Ought we to assert that what has
lasted a hundred thousand times longer than we, must last for ever?
No, ages on ages of our duration would scarcely be any indication of
immortality. Truly, said the Marchioness, I think these worlds can
have no pretensions to it. I shall not do them the honour to compare
them with the gardener who outlives so many transient flowers; they
are but as those flowers themselves, springing up and fading away, one
after another: for I suppose, if old stars disappear, new ones become
visible; the species cannot otherwise be continued. Yes, answered I, we
need not fear the extinction of the species. Some will tell you these
new stars are only suns which re-approach us after having been for a
long time at a distant part of the heavens. Others think they are suns
that have broken through the crust that began to cover them. I easily
conceive the possibility of all this; but I think it equally possible
for new suns to be created. Why should not the matter that is fit to
compose a sun, after having been dispersed in various places, be at
length gathered together in one spot and then become the foundation of
a new system of worlds? I am the more inclined to this opinion because
it answers better to the grand idea I entertain of the works of nature.
Has she no way of producing and destroying plants and animals but by
a continual revolution? I am persuaded, and I doubt not that by this
time you are so too, that she exerts the same power with respect to the
worlds. But on such subjects we can only form conjectures. The fact is
that for nearly a century past, in which, by the help of telescopes,
almost a new heaven has been discovered, unknown to the ancients, there
have been few of the constellations in which some sensible alteration
has not taken place;[55] the greatest number of changes is observed in
the milky-way, as if more motion and bustle existed among this heap of
worlds. Really, said the Marchioness, I find the worlds, in short all
the heavenly bodies, so liable to change that I have quite overcome the
horror I felt at the idea of the suns being extinguished. Well, replied
I, to prevent you from relapsing, we will say no more about them, we
are arrived at the uppermost part of the heavens, and to inform you
whether there are any stars beyond that, exceeds my skill. You may
place more worlds or not; just as you are disposed. These invisible
countries should, in propriety, be left to the philosophers: they may
imagine them to exist, or not exist, or to exist in any way they chuse.
I shall content myself with having directed your mind to all that is
discernible by your sight.

[Footnote 55: This is not proved.]

Ah! she exclaimed, then I am acquainted with the whole system of the
universe! how learned I am! Yes, said I, you are learned enough in all
reason, and your knowledge is attended with this convenience,--you may
extract your belief of all I have told you whenever you think proper. I
only ask as a reward for my trouble, that whenever you see the sun, the
sky, and the stars, you will think on me.[56]

[Footnote 56: As I have given these conversations to the public, I
think it would not be right to conceal any thing which passed on the
subject I shall publish another dialogue of the same kind that we had
a long while after these. It shall be entitled the "Sixth Evening," as
the rest were evening scenes.]

                            ══════════════




                           _SIXTH EVENING._


                            ══════════════

            ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS IN CONFIRMATION OF THOSE IN
            THE PRECEDING CONVERSATIONS.--DISCOVERIES THAT
                 HAVE BEEN LATELY MADE IN THE HEAVENS.

                            ══════════════


For a long time the Marchioness and I said nothing about the plurality
of worlds, we had apparently forgotten that we had ever talked on the
subject. I went one day to her house, and just as I entered, two men
of some talents and celebrity were going out. You see, said she, what
visitors I have had; I assure you they are gone away with a suspicion
that you have turned my brain. I should be very proud of such an
achievement answered I; it would shew my power, for I think one could
not devise a more difficult undertaking. Well, replied she, I am afraid
you have accomplished it. I don't know how it happened, but whilst my
two friends, whom you met at the door, were here, the conversation
turned on the plurality of worlds; perhaps they had an invidious
design in directing it to that subject. I immediately told them all
the planets were inhabited. One of them said he was certain I could
not be of that opinion: in the most unaffected manner, I maintained my
sincerity; he continued to think I was only feigning, and I believe he
had too great a regard for me to admit the possibility of my having
really adopted so extravagant an opinion. The other, from esteeming
me less, did not doubt my veracity. Why have you made me obstinately
adhere to sentiments which people who have the greatest friendship for
me will not suffer themselves to believe me possessed with? But, madam,
answered I, why did you maintain these opinions seriously, when talking
with persons that I am sure would not gravely argue on any subject?
Should we thus trifle with the inhabitants of the planets? Let us, who
believe their existence, be content to remain a little select band, and
not disclose our mysteries to the vulgar. Vulgar! exclaimed she; do you
reckon those two men among the vulgar? They have good understandings,
said I; but they never reason. Grave reasoners, who are austere people,
would not hesitate to place them in that class. They however take their
revenge by ridiculing the reasoners. We should if possible accommodate
ourselves to persons of both characters; it would have been better to
speak jestingly of the planetary inhabitants to such men as your two
friends, since they are accustomed to pleasantry, than to enter on an
argument, for which they have no talents. You would have retained their
good opinion without depriving the planets of a single inhabitant.
Would you have meanly sacrificed the truth? answered she. Where is your
conscience? I must own, I replied, I have not much zeal for truths of
this nature; I would readily forbear to maintain them if it suited my
convenience.

The cause which prevents people from believing the planets to be
inhabited is, that they appear to them only bodies placed in the
heavens to give light, instead of globes consisting of meadows and
fruitful countries. We readily believe that meadows and fields are
inhabited, but it is thought ridiculous to assert that mere luminous
bodies are. 'Tis in vain that reason informs us of fields in the
planets; reason comes too late, the first coup-d'œil has impressed
our minds before-hand, and this impression is not willingly parted
with. The planets, 'tis said, are only luminous bodies; what sort of
inhabitants then can they have? Our imaginations do not enable us to
distinguish their figures, therefore it is the shortest way to deny
their existence. Would you require me, for the sake of establishing
the idea of these inhabitants, whose interest cannot be very dear to
me, to attack all the powers of the senses and the imagination? Such
an enterprize would demand a vast deal of courage. Men are not easily
persuaded to see through their reason, rather than their eyes. Some
few persons are rational enough to believe, after a thousand proofs
have been given them, that the planets are worlds like ours, but they
do not believe it in the same way they would do, if they had not seen
them apparently so different; they always recur to the first idea they
had formed, and can never wholly divest themselves of it. These people
seem to _condescend_ to our opinion, and only patronize it from a love
of singularity.

Is not that enough, said she; for an opinion that is merely probable?
You would be astonished, answered I, if I told you the word probable
was too modest for the occasion. Is it merely probable that Alexander
has been in existence? No, you consider it certain; and what is the
ground of your certainty? Is it not that you have had every proof
that such a subject requires, and that no circumstance leads you
to doubt the fact? You have never seen Alexander, nor have you any
mathematical demonstration of his existence. What would you say if
this were the case with respect to the inhabitants of the planets?
We cannot shew them to you, nor can you require us to demonstrate
their being, in a mathematical way; but you have all the evidence
that can be desired: the entire resemblance between the planets and
the inhabited earth; the impossibility of imagining any other use for
which they could be created; the fruitfulness and magnificence of
nature; the attention she seems to have paid to the wants of their
inhabitants, such as giving moons to those planets that were very
remote from the sun, and the greatest number of moons to the most
distant: and it is an important consideration that every thing is on
that side of the question, without any objections to counterbalance
it; you cannot for a moment doubt unless you resume the vulgar mode of
seeing and thinking. In fact it is impossible to have more evidence,
and evidence of a more determinate kind; how then can you treat this
opinion as a mere probability? But do you think, said she, I can feel
as certain that the planets are inhabited, as that Alexander has been
in existence? By no means, I replied; for although, on the subject
we are speaking of we have as many proofs as in our situation we can
receive, yet these proofs are not numerous. I protest, exclaimed she,
I'll renounce these planetary inhabitants, for I don't know whether
to believe there are any or not--it is not certain, yet it is more
than possible--I am quite perplexed. Do not be discouraged, madam, I
replied. Clocks that are made in the most common manner shew the hour;
those only that are made with more exquisite art, indicate the minutes;
in like manner common minds see a great difference between probability
and absolute certainty; but it is only superior understandings that
ascertain the degrees of certainty or of probability, and who, if I
may use the expression, can tell the minutes as well as the hours.
Place the inhabitants of the planets a little below Alexander in point
of certainty, but above a vast number of historical relations which
are not entirely proved; I think that is their proper place. I love
order, said she, you do me a kindness in giving arrangement to my
ideas: why did you not do this before? Because, answered I, whether you
attribute to this idea a little more, or a little less certainty than
it possesses is not of much consequence. I am certain you do not feel
so assured as you ought to do of the earth's motion: are you the less
happy on that account? Oh! as to that opinion, I am sure I do my duty;
you have no right to complain of me, for I firmly believe that the
earth turns. Yet I have not given you the most convincing proof of it,
answered I. You use me very ill, said she, to make one believe things
without sufficient reason; am I unworthy to hear the best arguments?
I wished to prove my opinions, I replied, by easy, entertaining
arguments; would you have had me make use of such solid, sturdy ones as
I should have attacked a doctor with? Certainly, said she; now fancy me
a doctor, and let me have this new proof of the earth's motion.

With all my heart, answered I; it is this, and I am vastly pleased with
it, because I think I found it out myself; but it is so good and so
natural that I can hardly hope to have been the inventor. I am sure
an obstinate learned man who wished to oppose it, would be forced to
talk a great deal on the occasion; and that is the only way in which
a scholar can be overcome. It is evident either that all the heavenly
bodies go round the earth in four-and-twenty hours, or the earth,
turning on her axis, only imagines the motion in them. It is the most
improbable thing in the world that they should in reality go round the
earth in that short space of time, though we are not at first aware of
the absurdity of such an opinion. All the planets certainly revolve
round the sun: but these revolutions are unequal from the unequal
distances at which they are placed from the sun: the most remote, as
we might naturally suppose, take a longer time than the rest. This
order is observed even in the satellites that go round a large planet.
Jupiter's four moons, and the five belonging to Saturn, require a
longer or shorter time to move round their planet according to their
distance from it. It is further ascertained that the planets have a
rotation on their own axis; the time of this is likewise unequal;
we cannot tell the cause of such inequality, whether it depends on
the different size, or the degree of solidity of the planets, or on
the different degrees of rapidity of the vortices in which they are
enclosed, and the liquid matter by which they are carried along;[57]
this inequality however is certain, and in general we find that the
order of nature is such as to admit of particular variations in things
that are regulated by the same rules.

[Footnote 57: We can assign no reason; the irregularity depends on the
original cause, whatever that cause may be, which at first determined
their motions.]

I understand, said the Marchioness; I am quite of your opinion; if
the planets moved round the earth, the time employed by each would be
different, according to their various distances, as is the case in
their revolutions round the sun: is not that what you mean? Precisely
so, madam, answered I; their unequal distances from the earth would
produce an inequality in their revolutions round her: and the fixed
stars, being so extremely remote from us, so far beyond all that could
have a general movement round us, at least situated in a place where
such a motion must be very feeble, is there any probability of their
revolving round us in four-and-twenty hours, like the moon which is so
near to us? Ought not the comets likewise which do not belong to our
vortex, which have such irregular courses, and such different degrees
of swiftness, to be exempted from performing this daily circle round
our world? No, planets, fixed stars, and comets too, must all turn
round the earth! Were there but a few minutes difference in the time
of their revolutions we might be satisfied with it; but they are all
exactly equal, never varying in the slightest degree; surely this is a
suspicious circumstance.

Oh! replied the Marchioness, I could venture to say this exactitude
existed only in our imaginations. I am glad that any thing inconsistent
with the genius of nature, which this equality in so many moving bodies
would be, should depend on our motion, and she, even at our expense, be
free from the charge of inconsistency. For my part, said I, I dislike
a perfect regularity, and I don't approve of the earth's turning every
day on her axis in exactly twenty-four hours; I am disposed to think
the time varies. Varies! she exclaimed; do not our clocks shew that it
is always equal? Oh! replied I, I don't depend on clocks, they cannot
always be perfectly right; and should they be so, and sometimes shew
that the earth has made a longer or shorter tour in four-and-twenty
hours than usual, it would be thought that we ought rather to suspect
them of being wrong than to attribute any irregularity to the
revolutions of the earth. That is paying an extravagant respect to her,
I should depend no more on the earth than on a clock; the one might be
put out of sorts almost by the same causes as the other, only I think
it would take longer time to produce a sensible irregularity in the
earth; that is the only advantage I should allow her to have over a
clock. Might not the earth by degrees get nearer to the sun, and then,
finding herself in a situation where the matter was agitated with
greater violence, perform her motion on her axis, and her revolution
round the sun, in a shorter time? In that case the years would be
shorter, and the days too, but we should not perceive the difference,
for we should still divide the year into three hundred and sixty-five
days, and the days into twenty-four hours. So that without living
longer than we do now, we should live a greater number of years: and
on the contrary, if the earth were to remove farther from the sun,
we should live fewer years, although our lives would be as long. In
all probability, said she, if that were possible, a long succession
of ages would make but a trifling difference. True, I replied; nature
does nothing abruptly, her method is to effect every alteration by such
gentle gradations that it is scarcely perceptible to us. We hardly
observe even the changes of seasons; others that are produced much more
slowly must in general escape our notice. Nevertheless every thing is
subject to mutability; even a certain lady who has been seen, through
telescopes, in the moon for about forty years, appears considerably
older. She used to be rather handsome; now her cheeks are fallen away,
her nose and chin are beginning to meet; in short all her charms are
fled, and it is even feared that her life is near its close.[58]

[Footnote 58: We are not assured that this alteration has taken place
in the part of the moon that has some resemblance to a woman's head:
but there must be changes, if we judge by the volcano which has been
repeatedly observed. Astron. Art. 3339.]

What are you talking of? cried the Marchioness. I am not jesting,
I replied. A figure has been observed in the moon which resembled
a woman's head rising from among the rocks, and in that part an
alteration is perceived. Some pieces have fallen off a mountain, and
left the points which appear like the forehead, nose and chin of an
old woman. Does it not seem, said she, as if some malignant power had
a spite against beauty, since the young lady's head is the only spot
in the moon that has undergone a change. Perhaps, answered I, to make
amends, the alterations on our globe may give additional beauty to some
face observed by the inhabitants of the moon, I mean some face formed
like those of the people in that planet, for we always try to discover
in distant objects, the resemblance of what we continually think of.
Our astronomers discern young ladies' faces in the moon; probably if
women were to examine it they would find handsome male faces. If _I_ to
look, I don't know whether I should not see your likeness, madam. I
must undoubtedly, said she, feel myself obliged to any body who could
find me there; but let us return to what we were talking of just now;
are there any considerable alterations on the earth? In all probability
there are, answered I. Many high mountains, at a great distance from
the sea, have on them beds of shells, which shew that they were
formerly covered with water. Sometimes likewise, at a distance from
the sea, are found stones containing petrified fishes. How could they
have got to that place unless the water had been there? Fables tell
us, that Hercules separated with his hands two mountains called Calpe
and Abila, which being situated between Africa and Spain obstructed
the ocean; and the sea immediately rushed in violently, and formed the
great gulph that we call the Mediterranean. Fables are not altogether
fabulous; they are histories of remote periods, disguised by two very
ancient and common defects; ignorance, and a love of the marvellous.
It is not very credible that Hercules separated the two mountains with
his hands; but I can easily believe that in the time of some Hercules,
(for there have been fifty), the ocean may have torn asunder, perhaps
with the assistance of an earthquake, two mountains more feeble than
the rest and have by that means rushed in between Europe and Africa.
Then a new spot was discovered on our globe, by the people in the
moon, for you recollect, madam, that the water forms a dark spot. It
is the general opinion that Sicily has been separated from Italy, and
Cyprus from Syria: new islands have sometimes been formed in the sea;
earthquakes have ingulfed some mountains, and produced others, as well
as changed the course of rivers. Philosophers give us reason to fear
that the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, being over great subterranean
vaults filled with sulphur, will some time or other fall in, when the
vaults are no longer strong enough to resist the fires contained in
them, which now have vent at such openings as Vesuvius and Ætna. All
this will be sufficient to diversify a little the appearance we make to
the inhabitants of the moon.

I would rather tire them said the Marchioness, with a monotonous
appearance, than entertain them by the ruin of provinces.

That is nothing, answered I, to what takes place in Jupiter. He appears
to be surrounded with belts, which are distinguished from each other,
or from the spaces betwixt them, by their different degrees of light.
These are land and seas--or at least parts of the planet differing in
their nature. Sometimes these lands grow narrower, sometimes wider. New
ones are formed in various parts, and some of the old ones disappear:
and all these changes visible only through our best telescopes, are in
themselves much more considerable than if our ocean were to inundate
all the land, and leave its own bed to form new continents. Unless the
inhabitants of Jupiter are amphibious, and live with equal ease either
on land or in water, I hardly know what can become of them.[59] We see
likewise great alterations on the surface of Mars, even from one month
to another. In that short time seas overflow large continents, and
retire by a flux and reflux a thousand times more violent than ours;
or if this be not the case, some change equivalent to it takes place.
Our planet is very quiet compared with these; we have great reason
to congratulate ourselves, especially if it is true that in Jupiter
countries as extensive as Europe have been set on fire. Set on fire!
cried the Marchioness; that would be a great piece of news there. It
would indeed, answered I. We have observed in Jupiter, for perhaps
twenty years, a long stream of light more brilliant than the rest of
the planet.[60] We have had deluges here, but very seldom; perhaps
in Jupiter they have now and then a large conflagration as well as
frequent deluges. But be that as it may, the brilliant light I spoke
of is very different from another, which apparently is as old as the
world, though it has but lately been discovered.[61] How can a light be
formed for concealment? said she, that is something quite out of the
common way.

[Footnote 59: These lands surrounding Jupiter, which are sometimes few,
and sometimes in great numbers, are apparently clouds.]

[Footnote 60: I don't know that this observation is authentic.]

[Footnote 61: The zodiacal light. Astron. Art. 844.]

This light, I replied, is only visible at twilight, which is most
frequently long enough, and of sufficient power to conceal it; and
when it is not hid by the twilight, either the vapours of the horizon
prevent us from seeing it, or without great attention we may even
mistake it for twilight. However, about thirty years since it was
discovered with certainty, and for some time gave great delight to the
astronomers, whose curiosity wanted stimulating by something new. They
might find as many new subaltern planets as they chose without feeling
any interest in them. The two last moons of Saturn, for instance, did
not enrapture them as Jupiter's satellites had done; custom destroys
the power of every thing.

We see, during a month before and after the equinox of March, when
the sun is set and the twilight disappeared, a sort of whitish light
resembling the tail of a comet. It is seen before the dawn and
sun-rise, towards the equinox of September, and morning and night
towards the winter solstice. At other times, as I have before said,
the twilight conceals it; for we have reason to believe it always
exists. It has lately been conjectured that it is produced by a large
mass of matter, somewhat dense, which environs the sun for a certain
extent. The greatest part of his rays penetrate this covering, and come
to us in a straight line; but some of these rays by striking against
the internal surface are reflected back to us, either before the
direct rays can reach us in the morning, or after they have ceased to
enlighten us in the evening. As these reflected rays come from a higher
region than the direct ones, it is therefore earlier when we receive
them, and later before we lose them.

On this ground I must retract what I said on the probability of the
moon having no twilight, for want of a surrounding atmosphere as dense
as that of the earth. She is no loser by it, if she can receive a
twilight through this thick air which surrounds the sun, and reflects
his light to places which could not have his direct rays. Then,
enquired the Marchioness, will not this be a source of twilight to all
the planets, without the necessity of a dense atmosphere to environ
each, since that which surrounds the sun may produce the same effect
for all the planets in the vortex? From the frugality of nature, I
am disposed to believe she has effected the purpose by this means
only. Yet, said I, in spite of this frugality, the earth would have
two causes of twilight, one of which (the dense air before the sun),
would be useless, and could only serve as an object of curiosity to
the frequenters of the observatory: but it may be that the earth alone
sends out exhalations sufficiently gross to produce twilight; and
therefore a general resource has been provided for the other planets,
if their evaporations are more pure and subtile. We, perhaps, of the
inhabitants of all the worlds in our vortex breathe the grossest air;
did the people of the other planets know that, with what contempt they
would survey us!

That would be wrong, answered the Marchioness; we are not contemptible
for being surrounded by a thick atmosphere since the sun himself is
in the same situation. Tell me, is not this air produced by certain
vapours that you formerly told me issued from the sun; and may it
not be to moderate the power of the first rays which perhaps would
otherwise be excessive? I think it probable that the sun may be thus
veiled, to accommodate it to our use. That is a happy idea, madam, said
I; you have founded a pretty little system. We may add that this vapour
possibly falls back in a sort of rain to refresh the sun, in the same
manner as we sometimes throw water into a forge when the fire becomes
too fierce. We cannot attribute too much to the power of nature; but
all her operations are not made visible to us, therefore we cannot feel
assured of having discovered her designs, or her manner of acting.
We should not consider any new discovery a certain foundation for
reasoning on, though we are very much inclined to do it: philosophers
are like elephants, that in walking never put one foot to the ground
till they feel the other firmly supported. That comparison, said she,
is the more just because the merit either of elephants or philosophers
does not consist in external charms; we shall however do well to
imitate the superior judgment of both: inform me more of the new
discoveries, and I promise not to be in a hurry again to form systems.

I have told you, I replied, all the news I have heard from the sky,
and I believe no later intelligence has been received. I am sorry it
is not so entertaining and wonderful as some observations I read the
other day in an abridgment of the Annals of China, written in Latin.
They there see a thousand stars at a time fall from the sky into the
ocean with an amazing noise; or dissolve and disperse in rain. This has
not merely been seen once in China; I have met with the same account
given at two remote periods of time, besides that of a star which goes
towards the east, and bursts with the noise of a gun. It is a pity
such sights should be confined to China, while this part of the world
is never favoured with them. It is not long since all our philosophers
thought they had had sufficient experience to pronounce the heavens
and all the celestial bodies incorruptible and incapable of change; and
at the same time people at the other end of the world were seeing stars
dissolve by thousands: there appearance must have differed very much
from ours. But, said she, I never heard that the Chinese were great
astronomers. No, answered I, but the Chinese are gainers by being at
so great a distance from us, as the Greeks and Romans were by being
separated by a long space of time; whatever is remote assumes the right
of imposing on us.

Really I am more and more of opinion that Europe is in possession
of a degree of genius which has never extended to any other part of
the globe, at least not to any distant part. It is not perhaps able
to diffuse itself over a great proportion of the earth at once, and
some invincible fatality prescribes to it very narrow bounds. Let us
then make use of it while it is in our possession: and let us rejoice
that it is not confined to science and dry speculations, but equally
extended to objects of taste, in which I doubt whether any people can
equal us. Such, madam, are the things that should engage your attention
and constitute your philosophy.



                            ══════════════

                               THE END.

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Dreadful Maladies; Meteors; Remarkable Instances of Memory; Properties
of Mirth; Account of a Curious White Negro; Deviations from Nature;
Effects of Phosphorus; Rains; Extraordinary Men; Remarkable Accounts of
Monsters; Ventriloquists; Volcanoes; Thunder; Plants; Stones; Rocks;
Sleep-walkers; Petrified Bodies; Trees; Vegetation; Water-spouts; &c.
&c. including all the remarkable

                        _PHÆNOMENA IN NATURE_;

philosophically, and physically explained; forming the most curious and
interesting Collection of the Wonders of Nature ever published; the
whole alphabetically arranged; with a complete Index.

                            ══════════════

        To me be NATURE'S volume broad display'd,
        And to peruse its all-instructive pages, my sole delight.

                            ══════════════

⁂ Such is the interesting nature of the contents of this work, that it
is equally calculated to entertain and instruct every class of readers.

                            ══════════════

                                London:

                   _Printed by J. Cundee, Ivy-Lane_;

      Sold by T. HURST, Paternoster-Row; and may be had of every
                       Bookseller in the Empire.


                            ══════════════


Transcriber Note

Minor typos corrected. To accommodate placement a footnote, a
paragraph break was added on page 126.