{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_66559/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_66559","id":"gutenberg_66559","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66559","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Science - Physics","Plurality of worlds"],"text":"Transcriber Note\n\nText emphasis denoted as _Italics_.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: FONTENELLE.]\n\n\n\n\n                             CONVERSATIONS\n\n                                ON THE\n\n                        _PLURALITY OF WORLDS_.\n\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                                  BY\n\n                        BERNARD DE FONTENELLE,\n\n           One of the Forty belonging to the French Academy;\n               and Secretary to the Academy of Sciences.\n\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                              WITH NOTES,\n\n           AND A CRITICAL ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS,\n\n                                  BY\n\n                         _JEROME DE LA LANDE_,\n\n             SENIOR DIRECTOR OF THE OBSERVATORY AT PARIS.\n\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n               Translated from a late Paris Edition, by\n\n                        MISS ELIZABETH GUNNING.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                                London:\n\n                    PRINTED BY J. CUNDEE, IVY-LANE;\n                  SOLD BY T. HURST, PATERNOSTER-ROW.\n\n                                 1803.\n\n\n\n\n\n                           CRITICAL ACCOUNT\n\n                                OF THE\n\n                  _Life and Writings of the Author_,\n\n                                  BY\n\n                          JEROME DE LA LANDE.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nWhenever I have entered into conversation with any sensible woman\non astronomy, I have always found that she had read Fontenelle's\nPlurality of Worlds; and that his book had excited her curiosity on\nthe subject. As it has been so much read already, it must continue to\nengage attention: I therefore thought it would be useful to point out\nits faults; to add some observations, without which the reader would\nbe led into error with respect to the vortices; to make known the late\ndiscoveries; and to shew what numbers, before our author, had written\non the plurality of worlds. But I have made no alterations in the text;\nthe reputation of Fontenelle renders him respectable, even in his\nmistakes.\n\nThe Astronomy for Ladies, which I have published as a substitute for\nthis book, would be more instructive, but less amusing; therefore, as\nit will be but little read, I shall endeavour to supply the defects of\nFontenelle's work, by adding to the original some ideas more exact than\nhis own.\n\nM. Codrika has translated it into Greek, with explanations taken from\nmy Astronomy.\n\nM. Bode has translated it into German; and his translation has already\ngone through three editions: the last is that of 1798, Berlin, in\noctavo, Bernard de Fontenelle, _Dialogen ueber die Mehrheit der\nWelten_.\n\nWhen Voltaire published, in 1738, his Essays on the Elements of Newton,\nhe began with these words: \"Here is no Marchioness; no imaginary\nphilosophy.\" It was supposed that he here alluded to Fontenelle; this\nhe contradicts by saying: \"so far from having his book in view, I\npublicly declare that I consider it one of the best works that ever\nwere written.\" (Mem. de Trublet, p. 135).\n\nThis book has been printed a hundred times; the handsome edition of\nFontenelle's Works, in folio, published at the Hague in 1728,[1] with\nfigures by Bernard Pickart; the still more beautiful edition of the\nWorlds alone, edited by Didot the younger, in 1797, in folio, are\nmaster-pieces of typography; but in them nothing is found but the\noriginal work; therefore I consider our edition far preferable.\n\n[Footnote 1: That edition does not contain the account of the bees,\nwhich is in the present edition.]\n\nI shall here give a short account of the author of this work.\n\nBernard le Bovier[2] de Fontenelle was born at Bouen, February 11,\n1657. He died January 9, 1757.\n\n[Footnote 2: Lebeau writes the name le Bouyer, from the family name, in\nthe M\u00e9moires de l'Acad\u00e9mie des Inscriptions; but it is pronounced le\nBovier. (Mem. p. 19.)]\n\nThe first efforts of his genius were directed to poetry: at the age of\nthirteen he had composed a Latin poem: about the year 1683 he devoted\nhimself to literature and philosophy. In 1699 he began l'Historie de\nl'Acad\u00e9mie des Sciences, which he continued with great success during\nforty-two years. Few persons have contributed more to the progress of\nthe sciences than he has done, by accommodating them to every capacity,\nand inspiring by his panegyrics, a love of study. For my part, I feel\na pleasure in acknowledging that I am indebted to him for the germ of\nthat insatiable activity of mind I have experienced ever since the\nage of sixteen. I could find nothing in the world like the Academy of\nSciences, and ardently wished for the happiness of seeing it, long\nbefore I had any idea of the possibility of one day belonging to it.\n\nIn 1727 he published his Elemens de la G\u00e9om\u00e9trie de l'infini; this\nwas merely the amusement of a man of genius who had heard a little of\ngeometry, and chose to hazard his opinions on the subject.\n\nWe may find an eulogium on our author in l'Historie de l'Acad\u00e9mie des\nSciences for 1757, in the M\u00e9moires de l'Acad\u00e9mie des Belles-Lettres,\nand in a work written entirely on the subject, published by Trublet in\nthe year 1761, entitled M\u00e9moires pour servir \u00e0 l'Historie de la vie\net des Ouvrages de Fontenelle. In these memoirs a particular critique\nshews us the various merits of Fontenelle's works: there is also an\narticle by Trublet in the edition of Mor\u00e9ri, published in 1759.\n\nI have remarked in the twentieth book of my Astronomy, that in every\nperiod of time it has been believed that the planets were inhabited, on\naccount of their resemblance to the earth. The idea of the plurality\nof worlds is expressed in the Orphics, those ancient Grecian poems\nattributed to Orpheus (_Plut. de Placitis Philosoph. l. 2, cap. 13_.)\nProclus has preserved some verses in which we find that the writer\nof the Orphics places mountains, men, and cities in the moon. The\nPythagoreans, such as Philola\u00fcs, Hicetas, Heraclides, taught that the\nstars were all worlds. Several ancient philosophers even admitted an\ninfinity of worlds beyond the reach of our sight. Epicurus, Lucretius,\nand all the Epicureans were of the same opinion; and Metrodorus thought\nit as absurd to imagine but one world in the immensity of space, as to\nsay that only one ear of corn could grow in a great extent of country.\nZeno of Eleusis, Anaximenes, Anaximander, Leucippus, Democritus,\nasserted the same thing: in short, there were some philosophers who,\nalthough they did not consider the rest of the planets inhabited,\nplaced inhabitants in the moon; such were Anaxagorus, Xenophanes,\nLucian, Plutarch, (_De Oracular. defectu. De Facie in orbe Lun\u00e6_,)\nEusebius, Stobius. We may see a long list of the ancients who have\ntreated on the subject, in Fabricius, (_Biblio. Gr\u00e6c\u00e6, t. 1. cap.\n20_.) and in the M\u00e9moire de Bonamy (Acad. des Inscriptions, tom. ix.)\nHevelius appeared as firmly persuaded of this opinion in 1647, when he\ntalked of the difference between the inhabitants of the two hemispheres\nof the moon: he calls them _selenit\u00e6_, and examines at length all\nthe ph\u0153nomena observed in their planet, after the example of Kepler\n(_Astron. Lunaris_.) It was maintained at Oxford, in certain themes\nwhich are mentioned in the News of the Republic of Letters, June 1784,\nthat the system of Pythagoras on the inhabitants of the moon was well\nfounded: two years afterwards Fontenelle discussed this subject in his\nagreeable work. There are farther details of the different astronomical\nopinions at the end of Gregory's book. For the objections, we may refer\nto Riccioli. (_Almagestum, tom. 1, p. 188, 204_). In 1686 the Plurality\nof Worlds was adorned by Fontenelle with all the beauties of which a\nphilosophical work was susceptible. Huygens (who died in 1695) in his\nbook entitled Cosmoth\u00e9oros, published in 1698, likewise enters largely\ninto the subject.\n\nThe resemblance between the earth and the other planets is so striking,\nthat if we allow the earth to have been formed for habitation, we\ncannot deny that the planets were made for the same purpose; for if\nthere is, in the nature of things, a connection between the earth and\nthe men who inhabit it, a similar connexion must exist between the\nplanets and beings who inhabit them.\n\nWe see six planets around the sun, the earth is the third; they all\nmove in elliptical orbits; they have all a rotatory motion like the\nearth, as well as spots, irregularities, mountains: some of them have\nsatellites, the earth has one satellite: Jupiter is flattened like our\nworld; in short there is every possible resemblance between the planets\nand the earth: is it, then, rational to suppose the existence of living\nand thinking beings is confined to the earth? From what is such a\nprivilege derived but the groveling minds of persons who can never rise\nabove the objects of their immediate sensations?\n\nLambert believed that even the comets were inhabited. (Syst\u00eame du\nMonde, Bouillon; 1770.) Buffon determines the period when each\nplanet became habitable, and when it will cease to be so, from its\nrefrigeration. (Supl\u00e8mens, in 4to. tom. 11.) What I have said of\nplanets that turn round the sun, will naturally extend to all the\nplanetary systems which environ the fixed stars; every star being an\nimmoveable and luminous body, having light in itself, may properly\nbe compared with our sun. We must conclude that if our sun serves to\nattract and enlighten the planets which surround it, the fixed stars\nhave the same use. It is thought that the sun and fixed stars are\nuninhabitable because they are composed of fire; yet M. Knight, in a\nwork written to explain all the ph\u0153nomena of nature, by attraction and\nrepulsion, endeavours to prove that the sun and stars may be habitable\nworlds, and that the people in them may possibly suffer from extreme\ncold. M. Herschel likewise thinks the sun is inhabited (Philos. Trans.\n179. p. 155, et suiv.)\n\nSome timid, superstitious writers have reprobated this system, as\ncontrary to religion: they little knew how to promote the glory of\ntheir Creator. If the immensity of his works announce his power, can\nany idea be more calculated than this to exhibit their magnificence and\nsublimity? We see with the naked eye, several thousands of stars; in\nevery part of the firmament we discover with telescopes, innumerable\nothers; with more perfect telescopes, we still find a multitude more.\nWe compute, from the number seen through Herschel's telescopes in one\nregion of the sky, that there are a hundred millions. Imagination\npierces beyond the extent of vision, beholding multitudes of unknown\nworlds, infinitely more in number than those which are visible to our\nsight; and ranges unrestrained in the boundless space of creation.\n\nOur only difficulty with respect to the inhabitants of so many millions\nof planets, is the obscurity of the final causes, which it is difficult\nto admit when we see into what errors the greatest philosophers have\nfallen; for instance Fermat, Leibnitz, Maupertius, &c. in attempting\nto employ these final causes or metaphysical suppositions of imagined\nrelations between effects that we see and the causes we assign them, or\nthe ends for which we believe them to exist.\n\nIf the plurality of worlds be admitted without difficulty; if the\nplanets are believed to be inhabited, it is because the earth is\nconsidered merely as a habitation for man, from which it is inferred\nthat were the planets uninhabited they would be useless: but I\nwill venture to assert that such a mode of reasoning is confined,\nunphilosophic, and at the same time, presumptuous. What are we in\ncomparison of the universe? Do we know the extent, the properties, the\ndestination, and the connexions of nature? Is our existence, formed\nas we are, of a few frail atoms, to be considered any thing when we\nthink of the greatness of the whole? Can _we_ add to the perfection\nand grandeur of the universe? These ideas are expressed by Saussure,\nwho in speaking of a traveller to Mont-blanc says: \"if, during his\nmeditations, the thought of the insignificant beings that move on the\nface of the earth offers itself to his mind, if he compares their\nduration with the grand epochs of nature, how great will be his\nastonishment that man, occupying so small a space, existing so short\na time, can ever imagine that his being is the only end for which the\nuniverse was created.\"\n\nFrom these considerations d'Alembert, in the Encyclopedia, (art. World)\nafter examining the arguments for supposing the planets inhabited,\nconcludes by saying: _the subject is enveloped in total obscurity_.\n\nBut Buffon affirms that wherever there is a certain degree of heat, the\nmotion produces organized beings; we need not enquire in what way, but\nimagine these to be the inhabitants of the planets: if that should be\nthe case, we may conclude it highly probable that they are inhabited,\nnotwithstanding the preceding objections.\n\n                                                            _LA LANDE._\n\n1802.\n\n\n\n\n                        _LINES ON FONTENELLE._\n\n                            [Illustration]\n\n\n          Muse! if thou canst, this picture's truth excel;\n          Strive to pourtray the _soul_ of Fontenelle:\n          Him, to whose works, with wit and judgment warm,\n          Indulgent Nature, gave a magic charm.--\n          'Twas his to strew with flowers the toilsome road,\n          Which leads to Science in her dark abode;\n          And while he touch'd the pastoral reed, to prove,\n          That courtly pomp, must yield to rural love.\n          A Lucian rising from the silent tomb,\n          'Twas his, to pierce through Error's doubtful gloom;\n          And, with resistless eye, at once to dart\n          Full on the hidden secrets of the heart.--\n          Union divine!--in Fontenelle we find\n          A glowing genius, and a gentle mind!\n\n\n\n\n                               _PREFACE_\n\n                                  BY\n\n                        BERNARD DE FONTENELLE.\n\n\n_I find myself nearly in the situation of Cicero, when he undertook to\nwrite in his own language on philosophical subjects, that, till then,\nhad never been treated of but in Greek. He tells us that his works\nwere said to be useless, because those who delighted in philosophy,\nhaving taken the pains to study the books written in Greek, would not\nafterwards think of examining his Latin ones, which were not originals;\nand that persons who had no taste for philosophy, would neither care\nfor the Greek nor the Latin._\n\n_To which he answers, that exactly the contrary would happen; that the\nunlearned would be allured to philosophy by the facility of reading\nLatin works; and that the well-informed, after studying the Greek\nauthors, would be pleased to see how the subjects were handled in\nLatin._\n\n_Cicero might with propriety speak in this manner; his superior genius\nand great celebrity assured him success in this untried project, but\nI have not the same advantages to inspire me with confidence, in a\nsimilar undertaking. I was desirous of representing philosophy in a\nway that was not philosophical; I have attempted to compose a book that\nshall neither be too abstruse for the gay, nor too amusive for the\nlearned. But if what was said to Cicero should be repeated to me, I\ncould not venture to answer as he did: possibly in attempting to find\na middle way which would accommodate philosophy to every class, I have\nchosen one that will not be agreeable to any. It is very difficult to\nmaintain a medium, and I think I shall never be inclined to make a\nsecond attempt of this nature._\n\n_I should warn those that have some knowledge of natural philosophy,\nthat I do not suppose this book capable of giving them any information;\nit will merely afford them some amusement, by presenting in a lively\nmanner what they have already become acquainted with by dint of study.\nI would also inform those who are ignorant of these subjects that it\nhas been my design to amuse and instruct them at the same time: the\nformer will counteract my intention if they here expect improvement,\nand the latter, if they here only seek for entertainment._\n\n_I need not say that of all philosophical subjects I have chosen that\nwhich is most calculated to excite curiosity: surely nothing ought to\ninterest us more than to know how our own world is formed; and whether\nthere be other worlds similar to it, and inhabited in the same way: but\nlet no one be disquieted if unable to answer these enquiries; they who\nhave time to spare may examine such subjects; many have it not in their\npower._\n\n_In these Conversations I have represented a woman receiving\ninformation on things with which she was entirely unacquainted. I\nthought this fiction would enable me to give the subject more ornament,\nand would encourage the female sex in the pursuit of knowledge, by the\nexample of a woman who though ignorant of the sciences, is capable of\nunderstanding all she is told, and arranging in her ideas the worlds\nand vortices. Why should any woman allow the superiority of this\nimaginary Marchioness, who only believes what she could not avoid\nunderstanding?_\n\n_'Tis true, she gives some attention to the subject, but what sort of\nattention is requisite? Not such as will laboriously penetrate into an\nobscure thing, or a thing that is spoken of in an obscure manner; it is\nneedful only to read with sufficient application to render the ideas\nfamiliar. Women may understand this system of philosophy by giving it\nas much attention as they would bestow on the Princess of Cleves, in\norder to understand the story and see all the beauties of the work. I\ndo not deny that the ideas contained in this book are less familiar to\nthe generality of females than those in the Princess of Cleves, but\nthey are not more abstruse, and I am convinced that on a second perusal\nthey would be perfectly understood._\n\n_As I did not wish to establish an imaginary system that had no\nfoundation, I have employed true philosophical arguments, and as many\nof them as were necessary to establish my opinions; but fortunately the\nideas connected with natural philosophy are in themselves beautiful,\nand whilst they satisfy the understanding, give as much pleasure as if\nformed only to charm the imagination._\n\n_To such parts of my subjects as did not possess these beauties\nI have given extraneous ornaments; Virgil has done this in his\nGeorgics, where he renders a dry subject interesting by frequent and\nagreeable digressions: Ovid likewise in his Art of Love has pursued\nthe same plan, although the matter of his poem was far more pleasing\nthan any thing he could add to it: he seems to think it tiresome to\nspeak constantly of one subject--even of love. I have more need of\nembellishments than he, yet I have used them sparingly. I have only\ngiven such as the freedom of conversation authorised; I have only\nplaced them in parts that I thought required them; I have inserted most\nof them in the commencement of the work to accustom the mind by degrees\nto the objects I wish to present to its attention, in short, I have\nderived them from my subject, or formed them as much as possible to\nresemble my subject._\n\n_I did not venture to give any opinions on the inhabitants of the\ndifferent worlds, since they must have been entirely chimerical; I\nhave endeavoured to express all that might reasonably be imagined,\nand even the conjectures that are added are not without foundation.\nTruth and fiction are in some measure blended, but always so as to be\ndistinguishable from each other: I do not undertake to justify such a\ncomposition; the union of philosophy and amusement is the chief aim of\nthis work, but I know not whether I have adopted the right method._\n\n_It only remains for me now to address one class of persons; they are\nperhaps the most difficult to satisfy, not because my reasoning is\ninconclusive, but because they feel themselves privileged to disregard\nthe best arguments: I am speaking of scrupulous people who may imagine\nreligion is endangered by placing inhabitants any where but on the\nearth. I respect even an excessive scrupulosity when it arises from\npiety, nor would I willingly hurt the feelings of any one from whom I\ndiffered: but by rectifying a little error of the imagination we shall\nfind that this objection cannot affect my system of giving inhabitants\nto an infinite number of worlds. When you are told that the moon is\npeopled, you immediately figure to yourself men like ourselves, and\nthen a variety of theological difficulties occur. The posterity of\nAdam cannot have colonized the moon; therefore the inhabitants of that\nplanet are not descendants of our first parents; now it would be a\ndifficult point in theology to account for the existence of men who had\nany other ancestor. No more need be said; every imaginable difficulty\nis included in this, and the expressions that would be necessary for a\nmore full explanation are too worthy of reverence to be employed in a\nwork containing so little of the serious as this. The objection then\nturns on the existence of men in the moon, but it is the objectors\nthemselves who talk of men as its inhabitants; I have asserted no such\nthing: I say there are inhabitants, and I likewise say they may not at\nall resemble us. What are they then?--I have never seen them; I do not\nspeak from acquaintance with them._\n\n_Do not consider it a subterfuge, to rid myself of the objection,\nwhen I affirm that the moon is not peopled by men; you will see that\naccording to the idea I entertain of the endless diversity of the works\nof nature, it is impossible such beings as we, should be placed there.\nThis opinion is supported throughout the book, and it is an opinion\nwhich no philosopher can deny: I think, therefore, on this ground, the\nfollowing conversations will be objected to only by those who have\nnever read them. But will this consideration suffice to deliver me\nfrom the fear of censure? No; it rather gives me cause to apprehend\nobjections from every side._\n\n                                                          _FONTENELLE._\n\n\n\n\n                             CONVERSATIONS\n\n                                ON THE\n\n                        _PLURALITY OF WORLDS_.\n\n\nTO MR. L----.\n\nYou desire me, dear Sir, to give you a particular account of the manner\nin which my time has been spent whilst at the Marchioness of G--'s[3]\nin the country. To obey your injunctions strictly, I shall be obliged\nto fill a volume, and what is still more formidable, a volume of\nphilosophy.\n\n[Footnote 3: The lady here mentioned was Madame de la Mesangire of\nRouen. She was a beautiful brunette; but in compliance with her desire\nto be concealed, the author has spoken of her in the following pages,\nas having a fair complexion. The park belonging to her residence, is\ndescribed in the \"First Evening.\"]\n\nYou expect to be entertained with a history of splendid feasts,\nhunting, and card-parties; and you will hear of nothing, but planets,\nworlds, and vortexes:[4] for the discussion of these latter subjects,\nformed our principal amusement. Fortunately _you_ are a philosopher,\ntherefore I have the less reason to dread raillery from such a quarter;\non the reverse, I may even hope for your congratulations, on having\nrendered the Marchioness sensible to the charms of philosophy: we could\nnot have made a more valuable acquisition; for youth and beauty, in\nevery cause holds such power, that if wisdom herself were desirous of\nbeing welcomed by mortals, and would assume the form of this lovely\nwoman, surely with such an exterior, and such fascinating eloquence,\nshe could not fail to attract every heart.\n\n[Footnote 4: The Vortexes of Descartes, occupied the attention of the\nlearned, for nearly a century; but this hypothesis was superceded by\na discovery of the laws of attraction. Although Newton's famous book\non principles was published in 1687, Fontenelle always retained his\neducational prejudice in favour of the Vortexes. A few years before his\ndeath, he consulted me on a little work he had some time since composed\non the subject. I endeavoured to dissuade him from making it public;\nbut Falconet was afterwards weak enough to do so. The book is entitled\n\"Theory of the Cartesian Vortexes, with Reflections on Attraction.\" The\nauthor's name was never affixed to the work.]\n\nNotwithstanding all this, you must not expect to be transported with\nadmiration, whilst I repeat the conversations I have held with her\nladyship: my genius should be equal with her's, to relate what she\nsaid, in her own delightful manner. Conscious of inability, I must\nrelinquish the attempt, and leave you to discern through the recital,\nthat rapidity of apprehension, which characterizes the mind of the\nMarchioness. From the wonderful quickness with which she comprehends\nthe most abstruse subjects, I consider her already learned: at least,\nI may be allowed to say, that after a little study, she might attain\nthe heights of science; when many, who spend their lives amid the dull\ndisputes of vast libraries, remain for ever in the deepest ignorance.\n\nBefore I recount our various conversations, perhaps you may expect some\ndescription of their scene; some picture of the romantic country, under\nwhose shades the Marchioness is enjoying the autumn. If so, you will be\ndisappointed: so many people have exercised their talents on this gay\nspecies of writing, that I shall dispense with the ceremony, and merely\nsay, that on my arrival I had the pleasure of finding myself the only\nvisitor.\n\nThe two first days were passed in relating the news of Paris, which\nI had just quitted. When that subject was exhausted, an evening walk\nin the park, suggested the discussion of those learned topics, the\ncommencement of which you will find in the next page.\n\n\n\n\n                          _FIRST EVENING._[5]\n\n[Footnote 5: This first book has been translated into a variety of\nlanguages; it is the best eclogue that has been composed in the last\nfifty years: the descriptions and imagery it contains are perfectly\nsuited to the style of pastoral poetry; indeed many of the images would\nnot have disgraced the pen of a Virgil.\n\n                           _Dubos. Reflections on Poetry and Painting._\n]\n\n\n                              \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\nTHE EARTH IS A PLANET WHICH TURNS ON ITS AXIS, AND GOES ROUND THE SUN.\n\n                              \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nAfter supper we went to take a walk in the park. We felt the fragrant\nbreeze of evening peculiarly delightful, as the heat had been intense\nduring the day: the silvery rays of the moon, gleaming through the\nfoliage, formed an agreeable contrast with the darkened shadows of\nthe landscape. Not a cloud intercepted or veiled the smallest star.\nEvery orb appeared a mass of pure gold, rendered more brilliant by\nthe rich blue of the sky. The beauty of the scenery produced a gentle\nreverie, from which, had not the Marchioness been with me, I should\nnot have been easily roused; but in the company of so interesting a\nwoman I could not long abandon myself to the influence of the moon\nand stars. Do you not think, said I, addressing myself to her, that\nthe charms of a fine night greatly exceed those of the day? Yes, she\nreplied, the splendour of day resembles a fair and dazzling beauty,\nbut the milder radiance of night may be compared to a woman of less\nbrilliancy of complexion, and more sweetness of expression. You are\nvery generous, resumed I, in giving the preference to the brunette,\nwhilst you are so fair. It is however true, that an unclouded sun\nis the most glorious object in nature; and it is equally true, that\nthe heroines of romance, the most beautiful objects imagination can\ndepict, have almost invariably been represented with fair complexions.\nBeauty, answered my companion, is nothing, unless it interests our\nfeelings. You will not deny that the finest day never had the power of\ninspiring so delightful a reverie as you were falling into just now in\ncontemplating the loveliness of the evening. You are right, said I, but\nthe loveliest night I ever beheld, with all it's shadowy beauty, would\nfail to give me such enchanting sensations as the contemplation of the\nfair face of the Marchioness de G----. I should not be satisfied with\nyour compliment, she replied, did I even believe you sincere, since the\nbrightness of day, with which we have been comparing fair women, has\nso little influence on your heart. Why do lovers, who undoubtedly can\njudge of what is most touching, address all their poetic effusions to\nthe night? To the ear of day they neither confide their transports nor\ntheir sorrows--why is it so entirely excluded from their confidence?\nProbably, I answered, because it is not calculated to inspire that\ndelicious sentiment, at once impassioned and melancholy, which we feel\nin the stillness of night, whilst all nature seems to repose. The stars\nappear to move with more silent progress than the sun: every object\nthat decorates the heavens is soft, and attractive to the eye: in\nshort, we resign ourselves more easily to reverie because we feel as\nif no other being was at that time enjoying the pensive pleasure that\nexpands our soul. Perhaps, too, the uniformity of day, in which the sky\npresents no other object than the sun, is less favourable to the wild\nand pleasing illusions of fancy than the view of innumerable stars,\nscattered with sportive irregularity, over the boundless space. I have\nalways felt what you describe, said she, I love to see the stars, and\nam almost inclined to reproach the sun for hiding them. Ah! cried I, I\ncannot forgive him for concealing so many worlds from my sight! Worlds!\nshe exclaimed, turning to me with surprise, what do you mean? Forgive\nme, said I, you touched the wildest chord of my imagination--I forget\nmyself in a romantic idea. And what is this romantic idea? enquired\nthe Marchioness. Ah! replied I, I am half ashamed of owning it:--I\nhave taken it in my head that every star may be a world. I would not\npositively assert the truth of my opinion, but I believe it because it\naffords me pleasure; it has possessed my mind with irresistible force;\nand I consider pleasure a needful accessary to truth. Well, said she,\nsince your whim is such a pleasant one, make me a partaker of it; I'll\nbelieve any thing you chuse about the stars, provided it contributes\nto my happiness. Ah! madam, I replied, 'tis not such an enjoyment as\nyou would find in seeing one of Moli\u00e8re's comedies: it is an idea which\ncan only give delight to the understanding. What! exclaimed she, do you\nthink I am not susceptible of pleasures which depend only on reason? I\nwill convince you of your mistake. Teach me your system. No, answered\nI, I will not subject myself to the reproach of having talked of\nphilosophy, in such an enchanting walk as this, to the most interesting\nwoman of my acquaintance. No, seek for pedants elsewhere.\n\nFor a long while I attempted, in vain, to excuse myself; I was at last\nobliged to yield: I insisted, however, for my reputation's sake, on a\npromise of secrecy. Every objection being removed, I wished to begin\nthe subject, but found the commencement extremely difficult; for, with\na person who was ignorant of natural philosophy, it was necessary to\nconverse in a very circuitous manner, to prove that the earth was a\nplanet, the other planets similar to the earth, and all the stars so\nmany suns which enlightened a number of worlds. I once more assured her\nit would be much better to talk on such trifles as other people, in our\nsituation, would amuse themselves with. In the end, however, to give\nher a general idea of philosophy, I pursued the following plan.\n\nAll philosophy, said I, is founded on two things; an inquisitive mind,\nand defective sight; for if your eyes could discern every thing to\nperfection you would easily perceive whether each star is a sun, giving\nlight to a number of worlds; on the other hand, had you less curiosity,\nyou would hardly take the trouble to inform yourself about the matter,\nand consequently remain in equal ignorance; but the difficulty consists\nin our wanting to become acquainted with more than we see: besides, it\nis out of our power to understand much of what is even within the reach\nof our sight, because objects appear to us very different from what\nthey are. Thus philosophers pass their lives in disbelieving what they\nsee, and endeavouring to conjecture what is concealed from them; such a\nstate of mind is not very enviable.\n\nIn thinking on this subject, nature always appears to me in the same\npoint of view as theatrical representations. In the situation you\noccupy at the opera you do not see the whole of its arrangements:\nthe machinery and decorations are so disposed as to produce an\nagreeable effect at a distance, and at the same time the weights and\nwheels are hidden by which every motion is effected. You behold all\nthat is passing, without concerning yourself about the causes; and\nso perhaps do all the other spectators, unless among the number some\nobscure student of mechanics is puzzling himself to account for an\nextraordinary motion which he cannot understand. You see the case of\nthis mechanical genius resembles that of the philosopher studying the\nstructure of the universe. What, however, augments the difficulty\nwith respect to philosophers is, that nature so conceals from us the\nmeans by which her scenery is produced, that for a long time we were\nunable to discover the causes of her most simple movements. Figure\nyourself, as spectators of an opera, the Pythagorases, the Platos,\nthe Aristotles; all these men whose names are so celebrated. Let us\nsuppose them viewing the flight of Ph\u00e6ton, rising on the wind; ignorant\nat the same time of the construction of the theatre, and the cords\nby which the figure is put in motion. One to explain the phenomenon,\nsays, _it is some hidden virtue in Ph\u00e6ton which causes him to rise_;\nanother replies, _Ph\u00e6ton is composed of certain numbers which produce\nhis elevation_. A third says, _Ph\u00e6ton has a love for the top of\nthe stage; he is uneasy at any other part_. The fourth thinks, _it\nis not essential to the nature of Ph\u00e6ton to rise in the air, but he\nprefers flying up to leaving a vacuum at the top of the stage_. Such\nwere the ridiculous notions of the ancient philosophers, which to my\nastonishment have not ruined the reputation of antiquity. After all\nDescartes and some other moderns appear: they tell you that _Ph\u00e6ton\nrises in consequence of being drawn by cords, fastened to a descending\nweight, which is heavier than himself_. It is no longer believed that\na body can have motion, unless acted upon by another body; that it\ncan rise and descend without a counterbalancing weight; thus, whoever\nexamines the mechanism of nature is only going behind the scenes of\na theatre. If that be the case, answered the Marchioness, philosophy\nis a very mechanical affair! So much so, I replied, that I am afraid\nit will fall into disrepute. In short, the universe is but a watch on\na larger scale; all its motions depending on determined laws and the\nmutual relation of its parts. Confess the truth, have you not hitherto\nentertained a more exalted idea of the works of nature? Have you not\nconsidered them with more veneration than they deserve? I have known\nsome people esteem them less as their knowledge encreased. For my part,\nsaid she, I contemplate the universe with more awful delight now I\nfind that such wonderful order is produced by principles so simple.\n\nI know not, rejoined I, how you have acquired such rational ideas,\nfor, to say the truth, they are not very common. The generality are\naffected only by the obscure and marvellous. They admire nature merely\nbecause they consider it a sort of magic; something too occult for the\nunderstanding to reach: to them a thing appears contemptible as soon as\nthey find the possibility of explaining its nature: but you, madam, can\nreason so clearly, that I have only to draw aside the veil, and present\nthe world to your inspection.\n\nWhat we behold at the greatest distance from our earth is the azure\nheaven, that immense arch to which the stars seem firmly to adhere.\nThey are called fixed, because they appear to have no other motion than\nthat of their sky, carrying them from east to west. Between the earth\nand the remote firmament are suspended, at various distances, the sun,\nmoon, and the other five stars, denominated planets; Mercury, Venus,\nMars, Jupiter and Saturn.[6] These planets not being stationary at one\npoint in the heavens, but having unequal motions, vary with respect\nto their relative situations; the fixed stars, on the contrary, always\nbear the same local relation to each other. The chariot, for instance,\nthat you may distinguish, formed of those seven stars, has always had\nthat configuration, and is likely to retain it; but the moon sometimes\napproaches nearer to the sun; sometimes retreats farther from it; the\nsame is observed of the other planets. Such were the observations made\nby the Chaldean shepherds whose continual leisure enabled them to give\nso much attention to the heavenly bodies as to form the rudiments of\nastronomy, for we learn that that science took its rise in Chaldea,[7]\nas Geometry was first studied in Egypt, where the inundations of the\nNile destroyed the boundaries of different possessions, made the\ninhabitants desirous of exact measures by which they could again\nseparate their own lands from those of their neighbours. Thus astronomy\nis the offspring of idleness, geometry of interest; and if we enquire\ninto the origin of poetry, we shall probably find that she is the\ndaughter of love.\n\n[Footnote 6: In 1781, M. Herschel discovered a sixth. Astronomy by\nLalande, third edition, 1792, Vol. 1, Art. 116.]\n\n[Footnote 7: Perhaps in Ethiopia. Astronomy, Art. 260.]\n\nI am glad, said the Marchioness, you have given me this genealogy of\nthe sciences; astronomy is the only one that will suit me: geometry,\naccording to your account of it, requires a more selfish heart than\nmine; and I have not susceptibility enough to attempt poetry with\nsuccess; I have, however, as much leisure as can be needful for the\nstudy of astronomy; it is another favourable circumstance that we are\nin the country, leading a pastoral life. Do not mistake madam, answered\nI, talking of planets and fixed stars is not all that constitutes a\npastoral life. Was the conversation of the shepherds, in the golden\nage, confined to astronomy? Ah, said she, but it would be dangerous to\nconform one's mode of life to their's. No, that of the other shepherds\nyou mention appears preferable to me; therefore let us converse, if you\nplease, in the Chaldean style. After this disposition of the stars was\nremarked, what followed? The next thing, I replied, was to imagine the\narrangement of the different parts of the universe; that is what the\nlearned call making a system. But before I explain to you the first\nof these systems, give me leave to premise that we are all naturally\ndisposed to the same sort of madness as a certain Athenian of whom you\nhave heard, who had taken it in his head that every vessel which went\ninto the port of Pyreum belonged to him. We chuse to believe that every\nthing in creation is destined to our service; and when we enquire of\nsome philosophers the use of such a prodigious number of fixed stars,\nof which a smaller proportion would have been sufficient for all the\noffices they appear to perform; they coolly answer, they were made to\ngratify our sight. On this selfish principle it was for a long time\nsupposed that the earth was motionless in the midst of the universe,\nwhilst all the heavenly bodies were created for the sole purpose of\njourneying round, and distributing their light to her. Next to the\nearth they placed the moon, after the moon, Mercury, then Venus, the\nSun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn; beyond all these the firmament of fixed\nstars. It was imagined that the earth was stationed exactly in the\nmiddle of the circles described by these planets which extended in\nproportion to their distance from the earth, and that consequently\nthe most remote planets required a longer time to perform their\nrevolutions, which certainly is true. But, interrupted the Marchioness,\nI can't see why you should disapprove such an arrangement of the\nuniverse, it appears to me sufficiently commodious and intelligible, I\nreally feel quite satisfied with it. I have taken pains, answered I,\nto represent this system in the most favourable point of view; if I\nwere to explain it exactly as it was conceived by Ptolemy the author of\nit, and his disciples, you would be quite shocked. As the motions of\nthe planets are irregular, being sometimes quicker, sometimes slower;\ngoing sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another; now nearer to\nthe earth, then at a greater distance from it; the ancients figured\nto themselves an endless number of circles intersecting each other, by\nwhich they endeavoured to understand the great variety of movements.\nThe confusion, however, caused by such an infinity of circles was so\nperplexing that, at the time no better system was known, one of the\nkings of Castile,[8] a profound mathematician, was daring enough to\nsay, that if the supreme Being had consulted him when he created the\nworld, he would have given him some good advice. We are filled with\nhorror at the impiety of this expression, but it serves to shew us how\nabsurd must have been the hypothesis which could prompt it. The advice\nthis man wished to have given, undoubtedly regarded the suppression\nof so many circles, which did but prevent the planetary motions from\nbeing understood. Probably he would likewise have expunged from the\nsystem two or three superfluous firmaments, supposed to be above the\nfixed stars. The philosophers, to explain some particular motion of\nthe heavenly bodies, placed, beyond the heaven that bounds our view,\na sky of crystal, which communicated this motion to the lower sky.\nWas a new movement discovered? they had nothing to do but to form\na second crystal firmament. In short skies of crystal were made\nwithout any trouble. Why did they always chuse crystal? enquired the\nMarchioness; would nothing else have answered the purpose as well? No,\nanswered I, it was necessary to have a substance, at once transparent\nand solid, for it was Aristotle's opinion that solidity was essential\nto the dignity of their nature, and as this was believed by a great\nman, nobody thought of doubting it. But since that time comets have\nbeen seen which, being higher than was formerly imagined, must have\nbroken all the crystal of these skies, in passing through them, and by\nthat mean, thrown the universe into confusion; it was therefore found\nnecessary to change the matter of which these firmaments were composed,\ninto a fluid, such as air.\n\n[Footnote 8: Alphonsus, king of Castile died in 1284.]\n\nIt is now discovered with certainty, by the researches of later ages,\nthat Venus and Mercury turn round the Sun, and not round the earth,\non this subject the ancient system is absolutely exploded. I will\nnow acquaint you with another which provides for every difficulty,\none that does not require any amendments of the king of Castile,\nfor its simplicity is so charming that one cannot refuse to believe\nit. Yours, interrupted the Marchioness, seems a sort of bargaining\nphilosophy; whoever offers a system that is effected at the least\nexpense, has the preference. 'Tis true, said I; we have no other\nchance of understanding the plan by which the operations of nature\nare carried on. Nature is a wonderful economist; if a work is to be\neffected, and two ways are practicable, we may be sure she will adopt\nthat which costs her the least, however trifling the difference.\nThis economy is notwithstanding in every respect consistent with\nthe surprising magnificence which appears in all her productions.\nMagnificence is employed in the design, and frugality in the execution\nof it. Nothing should excite our admiration so much as a stupendous\nproject effected by simple means: but we are apt to cherish ideas\nof a very different kind. We place the frugality in the designs of\nnature, and her grandeur in the execution. We imagine her forming a\ncontracted plan, and executing it with ten times the labour that is\nrequisite: what can be so ridiculous? I hope, she replied, that the\nsystem you are going to explain will strictly imitate nature; the\nsimplicity you so admire will spare me a great deal of trouble in\ncomprehending your instructions. Your hope will be realized, said I,\nwe have now no useless incumbrances. At the appearance of a certain\nGerman named Copernicus,[9] astronomy became simplified; he destroyed\nall the unnecessary circles, and crushed to pieces the crystalline\nfirmaments.[10] Animated with philosophic enthusiasm, he dislodged the\nearth from the central situation which had been assigned it, and in its\nroom placed the sun, who was more worthy of such a mark of distinction.\nThe planets were no longer supposed to perform their revolutions round\nthe earth, and enclose it in the centre of their orbits. If they afford\nus light it is as it were by chance, and in consequence of passing\nus in their course. They all turn around the sun; the earth itself\nnot excepted; and as a punishment for the indolent repose it had been\nthought to enjoy, Copernicus made it take an ample share of the general\nactivity: in short of all these celestial attendants, appointed for the\nservice of our little globe, the moon alone is left to move round it.\nStop a moment, said the Marchioness, your imagination is so elevated\nwith your subject, you have explained it in such pompous language,\nthat I believe I have scarcely understood you. The sun, you say, is\nimmoveable in the centre of the universe; which of the planets is\nnext in succession? 'Tis Mercury, I replied. Mercury goes regularly\nround the Sun in nearly a circular orbit, of which that luminary is\nthe central point. Next to Mercury is Venus, which turns in the same\nmanner round the Sun. Afterwards comes the Earth, and being higher\nthan Mercury and Venus, describes a larger circle round the Sun than\neither of those planets. Then follow Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, in the\norder I have named them; thus you see the circle of Saturn must be the\nmost extensive of all; it likewise requires a longer time than the\nother planets to perform its revolution. But, exclaimed she, you have\nforgotten the moon. I shall recollect it presently, said I; the moon\nnever abandons the earth, but is constantly going round it; but as the\nearth is continually moving onwards in a circle round the sun, the\nmoon at once follows its motion, and revolves round it; this attendant\nplanet, therefore only goes round the sun in consequence of invariably\ncontinuing near to the earth.\n\n[Footnote 9: He was born in 1472, at Thorn, in Prussia Royal: he died\nin 1543.]\n\n[Footnote 10: Several of the ancients were of opinion that we should\nadmit the motion of the earth. Astron. Art. 1075.]\n\nI understand you, said she, and I love the moon for remaining attached\nto us when we were forsaken by all the other planets. Confess that\nif your German could have alienated that too, he would have done it\nwithout regret; for one may see, in every part of his hypothesis, that\nhe was but little inclined to favour the earth. He did well, I replied,\nto humble the vanity of men who chuse to claim the best situation in\nthe universe; 'tis with pleasure I consider the world mixing in the\ncrowd of planets. Pshaw! cried the Marchioness; do you think vanity\ncan have any thing to do with a system of astronomy? Do you suppose I\nfeel humbler for knowing that the earth goes round the sun? I assure\nyou I esteem myself just as highly as I did before. Certainly, madam,\nI answered, men would be less concerned about the rank they held in\nthe universe than that they enjoyed amongst their associates; neither\nwould the disputes of two planets, for precedence, be so important\nin their judgement as those of two ambassadors. Nevertheless, the\nsame disposition which induces a man of the world to aspire after the\nmost honourable place in a room, will make a philosopher desirous of\nplacing the globe on which he lives in the most distinguished situation\nin the universe. He likes to consider every thing made for his use;\nhe encourages, without being aware of his vanity, so flattering an\nopinion, and his heart becomes deeply engaged about an affair of\nmere speculation. Upon my word, she exclaimed, you are calumniating\nhuman nature--how happened it that the opinions of Copernicus were\nreceived, since they are so very humiliating? Copernicus, answered I,\nwas himself very doubtful of the reception they would meet with: it\nwas a long while before he could resolve to publish his system; at\nlast, however, he yielded to the entreaty of several distinguished\ncharacters; but what do you think was the consequence?--on the day they\ntook him the first printed copy of his book, he died: so he made use\nof the shortest way to escape from all the contradictions he had been\nanticipating.\n\nListen to me, said the Marchioness: let us be just to every body:\nit certainly is difficult to imagine we turn round the sun, for we\nnever change places; we rise in the morning where we went to rest at\nnight----I see from your look that you are going to tell me, that as\nthe earth moves altogether----. Assuredly, said I, it is the same thing\nas going to sleep in a boat which was sailing down a river; on waking,\nyou would find yourself in the same boat, and in the same part of the\nboat. Yes, replied she, but here is a difference; when I awoke I should\nfind an alteration in the shore, and that would prove that the boat had\nchanged its place: it is not so with respect to the earth, I there find\nevery thing as I left it. No, no, madam, you may observe an alteration\nin the shore, as you do in the boat: you will recollect that beyond\nall the planets are the fixed stars, these are what we must consider\nthe objects on the shore. I am on the earth; the earth describes a\nlarge circle round the sun; when I look to the middle of this circle\nI find the sun, and were not its brightness so dazzling as to render\nthe stars invisible, I should constantly see, by looking beyond the\ncentre, some of the fixed stars opposite to the sun; by viewing them\nhowever at night, I can easily determine how they were situated in\nthe day, which renders my observations equally accurate. If the earth\nremained in the same place I should always find the same fixed stars\nanswering to the situation of the sun, but as the earth moves on in her\norbit, I necessarily see other fixed stars at the point which I had\nbefore examined. Such is our shore, which is every day varying; and\nas the earth goes round the sun in a year, I observe the sun, during\nthat space of time, successively answering to different fixed stars\nwhich compose a circle; this circle is called the Zodiac; shall I shew\nit you by tracing a figure on the earth? No, said she, I can dispense\nwith that; it would give my park too learned an appearance. I think I\nhave heard that a philosopher, shipwrecked on an island with which he\nwas unacquainted, cried out to his companions on perceiving some lines\nand circles drawn on the sand; _courage, my friends! the island is\ninhabited; here are the footsteps of men_. You must consider that such\n_footsteps_ ought not to be seen here.\n\nIt would certainly, I replied be more in character, to trace only\nthe footsteps of lovers; that is to say, your name, engraved by your\nadorers on the bark of every tree. No more of adorers, cried she;\nlet us talk of the sun. I understand perfectly why we imagined it\nperforming the revolution which is merely effected by our own motion,\nbut this circle requires a year; how, then, does the sun appear to go\nround us every day? You undoubtedly know, I replied, that if a ball\nwere rolled along this walk it would have two sorts of motion; it would\ngo towards the end of the walk, and at the same time turn several\ntimes on its own axis, so that the side of the ball which is at first\nuppermost will presently descend, and the other, of course, rise to\nthe top. This is the case with the earth: whilst she is proceeding,\nthrough the year, in her orbit round the sun, she turns on her own axis\nevery twenty-four hours: each part, therefore, of the earth loses, and\nrecovers sight of the sun during that time. When in the morning we turn\ntowards the sun, it seems to rise; and when, by continued rotation, we\nagain are more distant from it, it appears to descend. That's curious\nenough, said she; the earth undertakes every thing, and the sun does\nnothing at all: and when the moon, the other planets, and the fixed\nstars appear to pass over us in four-and-twenty hours, it is merely\nimagination. Exactly so, I replied, and produced by the same cause.\nThe planets perform their revolutions round the sun in unequal periods\nof time, in consequence of their different distances from it; and one\nwhich we see to day answer to a certain point in the zodiac, or circle\nof fixed stars, will to-morrow at the same hour answer to some other\npoint: this is the effect both of the progress which the planet has\nmade in its orbit and of that which we have made in ours. We move\nonward; the other planets do the same, but we do not continue all in a\nline: this occasions us to see them in such different situations, and\nrenders their course apparently irregular. You now understand that such\nirregularity depends only on the different points from which we view\nthem, and that, in reality all their movements are directed by the most\nexact order. It may be so, answered the Marchioness; but I should be\nglad if their order did not cost the earth so much: you seem to have\nvery little consideration for it, and to require an astonishing agility\nin so large a body. But, said I, do you think it more reasonable for\nthe sun, and all the other heavenly bodies, which are extremely large,\nto perform in four-and-twenty hours an immense journey round the earth?\nThat the fixed stars, being in the largest circle, should travel, in\nthe course of a day, more than twenty-seven thousand six hundred and\nsixty times two hundred millions of leagues?[11] All this must be if\nthe earth does not turn on her axis every twenty-four hours. Surely\nthere is much more rationality in supposing our globe to turn, which\nwould give to each part but a journey of nine thousand leagues.\nConsider what a trifle are nine thousand in comparison of the terrific\nnumber I have just mentioned.\n\n[Footnote 11: According to later calculations, it would be a thousand\nmillions of times a million of leagues; but a person who did not\nbelieve the motion of the earth would have no occasion to admit this\nprodigious distance.]\n\nOh! replied the Marchioness; the sun and stars are made of fire, a\nswift motion is nothing to them, but the earth does not seem formed for\nmotion. And should you think, I answered, if experience had not proved\nthe fact, that a large ship, carrying a hundred and fifty pieces of\ncannon, three thousand men, and a heavy freight of merchandize, could\nbe _formed for motion_?--Yet a gentle breeze is sufficient to move it\nforwards, because the water, being liquid, and easily divided, makes a\nvery slight resistance to the progress of the ship, or if it be in the\nmiddle of a river, it follows without difficulty the current of the\nwater, since there is then no impediment. In like manner the earth,\nnotwithstanding its weight, is with facility carried through the sky\nwhich is infinitely more fluid than water, and which fills the immense\nspace occupied by all the planets. To what could the earth be fastened\nso strongly as to resist the current of this celestial fluid and remain\nmotionless? We might as well imagine a little wooden ball could resist\nthe tide of a river.\n\nBut, said she, how can a body so ponderous as the earth be suspended\nin your celestial fluid, which from its great fluidity must be\nextremely light? It does not follow, I replied, that a substance must\nbe extremely light because it is fluid. What do you think of the great\nship we have been talking of, which, with all its lading, is lighter\nthan the water that supports it? I won't have any more to say to\nyou, answered she, half angrily, if you mention your ship again.[12]\nBut tell me, is it not dangerous to inhabit such a whirli-gig as\nyou represent the earth? If you are afraid, said I, let us have the\nworld supported by four elephants, as the Indians do. Well! cried\nshe, here is a new system. I like those people for providing such\ngood foundations for the earth to rest on, whilst we Copernicans are\nimprudent enough to swim at random in this celestial fluid. I dare say\nif the Indians knew there was the least danger of the earth's being\nmoved, they would double the number of elephants.\n\n[Footnote 12: The Marchioness was in the right not to listen to such\nan answer. It is absurd to pretend that the \u00e6therial fluid, so light\nand rare, can be capable of bearing along those enormous masses, the\nplanets.]\n\nIt would be worth while, I replied, laughing at the thought, we must\nnot be sparing of elephants if they can enable us to sleep in peace;\nif you would find them serviceable to-night we'll put as many as you\nplease, and then remove them one or two at a time as you find your\ncourage return. No, said she, I don't think there is any need for\nthem, and to speak seriously, I feel courageous enough to let the\nworld turn round. And I can venture to predict, answered I, that in\na little while its turning will give you pleasure; will even inspire\nthe most delightful ideas, I sometimes imagine myself raised above\nthe surface of the earth, and remaining motionless whilst its daily\nrotation continues. All the different inhabitants pass in review; some\nfair, some copper-coloured, some black. Now I see heads covered with\nhats; then with turbans; some shaven, others with flowing hair. As the\ntowns pass before me, I observe some have steeples, some long spires\nwith crosses on them, others are ornamented with towers of porcelaine.\nThen I behold large countries with no other buildings than little huts:\nafterwards, immense seas; then frightful deserts; and in short, all the\nboundless variety which is to be found on the face of the earth.\n\nReally, she replied, it would be worth while to devote four-and-twenty\nhours to such a sight. If I understand you, when we move, other\ncountries with their inhabitants pass into the situation we are\nleaving, and so on, till in four-and-twenty hours we again arrive at\nthe same place.\n\nCopernicus himself, said I, could not have comprehended it more\nclearly. The first that would succeed us[13] would be the English: we\nshould probably find them arguing on some political topic with less\ngaiety than we are discussing our philosophy. When we had dismissed\nthem we should discover a vast sea,[14] on which perhaps would be\nsome vessel, less at her ease than we. Then come the Iroquois, eating\none of their prisoners of war, who does not even utter a groan though\nstill alive when they begin to devour him.[15] After them the women\nof Jesso, who employ all their time in preparing victuals for their\nhusbands, and painting their lips and eye-brows blue to appear handsome\nin the eyes of the most disgusting men in the world. Then the Tartars,\nvery devoutly going on a pilgrimage to their high priest, who dwells\nin an obscure recess, enlightened only by lamps, the rays of which\ndirect these votaries to the object of their adoration. Afterwards\nthe beautiful Circassians who make no ceremony of granting all their\nfavours to the first that solicits them, except what they believe the\nessential prerogative of their husbands. Then the inhabitants of Little\nTartary, who go to steal women for the Turks and Persians. Last of all\nour countrymen, whom we should find entertaining each other with the\nvagaries of their imagination.\n\n[Footnote 13: To speak more properly they would be one hundred leagues\nnorthward.]\n\n[Footnote 14: The Atlantic.]\n\n[Footnote 15: We should next see the Pacific Ocean.]\n\nIt is amusing enough, said the Marchioness, to fancy oneself in a\nsituation to see all these things: but if I were taking the view I\nshould wish for the power of hastening or retarding the earth's motion,\naccording to the feelings with which each object inspired me: I assure\nyou I should soon push on those that argued on politics, and the\nothers that devoured their enemies; but there are some of the people\nyou have been speaking of that would excite my curiosity; the handsome\nCircassians, for instance, whose customs are so peculiar. But a serious\ndifficulty occurs to me respecting your system. If the earth turns, we\nevery moment change our atmosphere, and respire that of a new climate.\nBy no means, madam, I replied; the air which surrounds the earth rises\nonly to a certain height, twenty leagues perhaps at farthest;[16] this\natmosphere always turns with us. You have doubtless observed the sort\nof shell in which a silk-worm imprisons itself, and which it forms\nwith such astonishing art. It is composed of silk closely woven, but\ncovered with a light down. Thus it is with regard to the earth, it is a\nsolid body covered with an atmosphere extending to a certain height,\nwhich adheres to, and moves with it, as the down does with the firmer\nsubstance beneath it. Above our atmosphere is the celestial matter,\nincomparably more pure, subtile and active than air.\n\n[Footnote 16: Even at two leagues it is no longer discernible.]\n\nYou represent the earth in a very contemptible light, said the\nMarchioness. Nevertheless on this silk-worm's shell we find stupendous\nworks, furious wars, and universal agitation. Yes, answered I, and\nwhile all this is going on, nature, who does not concern herself about\nsuch frivolous things, carries us all along, with an uninterrupted\nmotion, and amuses herself with the little ball.\n\nIt appears very ridiculous, replied she, to give way to so much\nanxiety, whilst one is living on a thing that is perpetually turning;\nbut unfortunately we are not assured that it does turn, for, to tell\nyou the truth, all the precautions you take to convince me that we\nshould not feel its motion are unsatisfactory. How could it avoid\ngiving some indication by which we should be sensible of it?[17] The\nmost common and natural motions, said I, are the least felt: this\nobservation is true even in a moral sense: the motions of self-love are\nso frequent in our minds, that for the most part we are not sensible\nof them, but believe ourselves actuated by other principles. Ah! you\nare beginning to moralize, said she; moralizing and explaining natural\nphilosophy are a little different; I fancy you grow tired of your\nsubject: let us return home, we have had enough for the first lecture.\nTo-morrow we will come here again--you with your systems, and I with my\nignorance.\n\n[Footnote 17: There are several; one of them is the aberration of the\nstars. Astron. Book xvii.]\n\nIn our way to the house, to give her a complete history of systems,\nI told her that a third had been invented by Ticho Brahe, who, from\na determination to keep the earth in a state of rest, placed her in\nthe centre of the universe, making the sun revolve round her, and the\nplanets round the sun; for in consequence of some discoveries which had\nbeen lately made, he found it impossible to make the planets go round\nthe earth. The Marchioness, with her usual discernment, concluded that\nit was mere whim to exempt the earth from moving round the sun, when\nso many other larger bodies were allowed to perform the revolution;\nthat the sun was rendered more unfit for turning round the earth when\nincumbered with the other planets, and in short that this system\nwas only calculated to support a prejudice in favour of the earth's\nimmobility,[18] without offering any thing to convince the judgment;\nwe therefore resolved to retain that of Copernicus, which is more\nuniform and pleasing, and at the same time unmixed with prejudice. In\nfact its simplicity convinces, whilst its boldness excites admiration.\n\n[Footnote 18: The ridiculous system of Ticho was invented out of\nrespect to the holy scriptures, not considering that their object\nwas more important than the refutation of popular errors on natural\nphilosophy.]\n\n                              \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n                           _SECOND EVENING._\n\n\n                              \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                    THE MOON IS A HABITABLE GLOBE.\n\n                              \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nThe next morning as soon as the Marchioness was awake, I sent to\nenquire how she did, and whether she had been able to sleep whilst the\nglobe was turning? I received for answer, that she already felt quite\naccustomed to the motion; and had slept as undisturbedly as Copernicus\nhimself. Soon afterwards, some company came to spend the whole day\nwith her; a tiresome custom which is always observed in the country;\nyet long as the visit was, we considered it a great kindness in the\nguests, not to prolong it to the next day; which I find is a common\npractice in this part of the world: however, as they had the civility\nto leave us, the Marchioness and I had the evening to ourselves. We\nimmediately went to the park and resumed our astronomical conversation.\nShe understood so perfectly all I had said on the former evening, that\nshe disdained to hear any repetition of the subject, and desired me\nto enter on a new one.--Well then, said I, since the sun, which we\nconcluded is immovable, can no longer be considered a planet; and the\nearth is proved to be one, and to move round the sun; you will be the\nless surprised to hear, that the moon is a world like ours; and to all\nappearance, inhabited.--I never heard speak of peopling the moon; she\nreplied, but as a ridiculous, visionary hypothesis.--It may be so,\nanswered I; I only adopt the interest of any party, in these cases, as\npeople do in civil wars; in which the uncertainty of the event, induces\nthem to hold a correspondence with opposite sides, and even, when\npossible, with their enemies. For my part, though I believe the moon is\ninhabited, I can be very civil to any one that disbelieves it; and I\nalways retain the power of going over to their side without disgracing\nmyself, if I found they had the advantage: but in the present state\nof the question I have the following reasons for thinking the moon is\ninhabited.\n\nLet us suppose that no communication had ever been carried on between\nParis and St. Dennis; and that a Parisian who had never gone out of his\nown city should stand on one of the towers of Notre-Dame, and at that\ndistance view St. Dennis: were he asked if he believed that St. Dennis\nwas inhabited like Paris, he would without hesitation answer, No; I see\ninhabitants in Paris, but I can discover none at St. Dennis, nor did\nI ever hear of any being there. Somebody standing by, might answer,\nthat we certainly cannot see them from the towers of Notre-Dame, but\nthat is, because we are at too great a distance; that from all we can\ndiscern of St. Dennis it is very much like Paris; that it has steeples,\nhouses, walls; and therefore is very probably inhabited. All this makes\nno impression on our citizen; he insists upon it that St. Dennis is\nuninhabited because he does not see any body in it. The moon is our St.\nDennis, and each of us is this Parisian who has never left the city in\nwhich he resides.\n\nOh! you wrong us, interrupted the Marchioness; we are not so stupid as\nyour citizen; when he sees that St. Dennis is constructed exactly on\nthe same plan as Paris, he must be out of his senses not to believe\nit inhabited: but the moon is very different from the earth. Be\ncautious, madam, said I; if the moon's resemblance to the earth prove\nit habitable, I shall force you to believe that it is inhabited. I\nconfess, answered she, that if you can shew me the similarity, I cannot\npretend to deny its being inhabited, and I see so much confidence in\nyour looks that I am afraid you will be triumphant. The two different\nmotions of the earth, which I never before knew any thing about, make\nme fearful of hastily rejecting any other opinion; but still, can it be\npossible that the earth is luminous like the moon?--that you know is\nessential to their similarity. Indeed, madam, I replied, the luminous\nquality of planets depends on less than you imagine. The sun alone is,\nin his _nature_, luminous; but the planets only reflect the light they\nreceive from him. He enlightens the moon; the moon reflects his rays on\nthe earth, and the earth is undoubtedly in the same manner a source of\nlight to the moon; it is not farther from us to the moon, than from the\nmoon to us.\n\nBut, enquired the Marchioness, is the earth equally capable of\nreflecting the sun's light? I see, answered I, you have an invincible\npartiality for the moon. Light is composed of globules which rebound\nfrom a solid substance, but pass through any thing in which they find\ninterstices, such as air or glass: the moon, therefore, gives us light\nin consequence of being a hard, solid body, which sends back these\nglobules. I suppose you will not dispute the hardness and solidity of\nthe earth. See then the effect of an advantageous situation--because\nthe moon is at a distance we only view her as a luminous body instead\nof a large mass of matter similar to the earth. Our globe, on the\ncontrary, from having the ill luck to be more closely inspected,\nappears only a mass of dark soil, fit for nothing but to produce food\nfor animals; we do not perceive the splendour of her light, because\nwe cannot remove to a distance from her. So it is, answered the\nMarchioness, with the different ranks of society: we are dazzled with\nthe grandeur of situations superior to our own, without considering how\nmuch every condition of human life resembles all the rest.\n\n'Tis precisely the same thing, I replied; we take upon us to decide\non every thing, but we are never in a proper place for making our\nobservations. We would form an opinion of ourselves, and we are too\nnear; we would judge of others; they are too distant from our view.\nWe should be placed between the earth and the moon to form a just\ncomparison; a spectator, not an inhabitant of the world. I shall be\ninconsolable for the injustice we do our world, said she, and the\npartial regard we have for the moon, unless you can assure me that the\ninhabitants of that planet are as ignorant of _their_ advantages, and\nconsider our globe a luminous body, without knowing that from their own\nwe derive so much light. I can make you easy on that head, answered\nI; we are certainly a luminary to them: they do not, it is true, see\nus describe a circle round them,[19] but that does not signify. The\nreason of our appearing to remain in the same place is this;--the\nside of the moon which was turned towards us at the creation, has\nalways continued so; we always observe the same eyes, mouth, and\nother features of the face which, by the help of imagination, we have\ncontrived out of the spots on her surface.[20] If the other half were\npresented to us, we should see spots arranged in a different form:\nthis does not arise from the moon's not turning on her axis; she turns\nin the same time that is employed in going round the earth, that is,\na month; but whilst she is performing part of her revolution on her\naxis, she at the same time performs an equal part of her circle round\nthe earth, and thus, by putting herself in a new situation, continues\nto shew the same side: therefore although with regard to the sun and\nthe rest of the heavenly bodies the moon evidently turns on her axis,\nyet when viewed from the earth she does not appear to do so. All the\nother luminaries seem to the moon to rise and set in the space of a\nfortnight, but she constantly sees our globe in the same part of the\nheavens.[21] This apparent immobility, were it invariable, would be\nthought inconsistent with the nature of a planet; but the moon has a\nsort of vibratory motion which sometimes conceals a small part of the\nface, and exhibits a part of the other side. Now, I can venture to say\nthat the inhabitants attribute this motion to us, and imagine that we\nvibrate in the heavens, like a pendulum.\n\n[Footnote 19: This is an error, for if they consider the earth's\nsituation relatively to the firmament, they must see that she performs\na revolution in twenty-seven days: they certainly always find her\nanswer to their zenith, or at the same distance from the zenith, but at\nthe same time this zenith is continually answering to some new point in\nthe heavens.]\n\n[Footnote 20: When the moon is viewed through a telescope its spots\nbear no resemblance to the human face; but on contemplating it with the\nnaked eye, it is easy to imagine that form; and it is become so common\nto talk of the face on the moon, that even an astronomer can hardly\ndivest himself of the idea.]\n\n[Footnote 21: The earth always answers to one side of the moon, but not\nthe same point in the sky.]\n\nAll the planets, said the Marchioness, are like us human beings, who\nalways attribute to others what belongs to ourselves. The earth says;\n_it is not I who turn, it is the sun_. The moon says; _it is not I who\nvibrate, but the earth_: there is error throughout. I would not advise\nyou to attempt making any reform, answered I; you had better consider\nthe remaining proofs of the resemblance which the earth and moon bear\nto each other. Figure to yourself those two globes suspended in the\nheavens. You know the sun always enlightens one half of a circular\nbody, whilst the other half remains in the shade. There is then one\nhalf of both the earth and the moon, which is enlightened by the sun,\nor in other words, in which it is day, and the other half in which\nit is night. Observe likewise that as a ball moves with less force\nand celerity after it has struck against a wall from which it flies\noff to an opposite place, so the light is weaker when reflected to\nus from a body that only receives it. The pale light of the moon is\nin reality the brilliancy of the sun, but as we receive it merely by\nreflection, in coming to us, it is deprived of its strength. Of course,\nit shines with much greater splendour on the moon, and for the same\nreason the dazzling light received by our globe, from the sun, must\nappear faint, when reflected back to the moon. That part of the moon\nwhich to us appears luminous during the night, is the side which has\nday-light; and the part of the earth which is illuminated by the day,\nwhen turned toward the dark side of the moon, affords equal light to\nher. All this depends on the mutual position of the earth and moon.\nDuring the first days of the month, when the moon is not discernible,\nshe is placed between the sun and us, and proceeding in the day time\nwith the sun: the luminous side is therefore necessarily turned to the\nsun, whilst the dark part is towards the earth. We are unable to see\nthe unenlightened side of the moon, but this dark half viewing the part\nof our globe in which it is day, is assisted by our light, and though\ninvisible to us, has the advantage of seeing the earth as a full moon:\nit is then to the lunar inhabitants _full-earth_, if I may so express\nmyself.[22] After this, the moon advancing in her monthly round, and no\nlonger between the sun and earth, turns towards us a small part of her\nenlightened half, and that we call the crescent. At the same time that\npart of the moon which is involved in the obscurity of night, ceases\nso see all the luminous side of the earth, and finds it continue to\ndecrease.\n\n[Footnote 22: We have a convincing proof of the light reflected from\nthe earth at this time, in the dusky light perceived on a part of the\nmoon that is not enlightened by the sun. Astron. Art. 1412.]\n\nEnough--said the Marchioness, in her lively manner; I shall easily\nlearn the rest when I like: let me stop a moment, and trace the moon\nthrough her monthly circle. I see that in general that planet and the\nearth have very different degrees of light, and I imagine that when we\nhave the full-moon all the luminous side of the moon is turned toward\nall the part of our globe which is obscure; and that, at that time, the\ninhabitants cannot discern us at all, but say they have _new-earth_. I\nshould not chuse to be obnoxious to reproach for obliging you to enter\ninto a long explanation of any thing so easily understood, but the\neclipses--how are they effected? You could guess it without difficulty,\nI replied. When we have a new moon, and she, being between us and the\nsun, presents her dark side to our luminous half, the shadow of this\nobscure part falls on the earth; so that wherever the moon is in a\ndirect line under the sun, she hides that luminary from our sight, and\ndarkens a part of the enlightened side of our globe; this, then, forms\nan eclipse of the sun to us during the day-time, and an eclipse of the\nearth to the moon during her night. When the moon is at the full, the\nearth is between her and the sun, the shaded side of the earth towards\nthe light side of the moon. If the earth's shadow fall directly on the\nmoon, it darkens the luminous half that we see; 'tis then we have an\neclipse of the moon in our night, and the moon, an eclipse of the sun\nin her day. What prevents an eclipse every time the moon is between the\nsun and us, or the earth between the sun and moon, is this; it often\nhappens that these three bodies are not placed exactly in a line, in\nwhich case the one that would occasion the eclipse throws its shadow on\none side of the other and consequently does not obstruct its light.\n\nI am very much astonished, said the Marchioness, that there is so\nlittle mystery in eclipses, and that being produced by such simple\nmeans, every body does not discover the cause of them. In truth,\nanswered I, there are many people, who from the emotions they feel at\none of these phenomena, appear to have little chance of finding out\nthe occasion of them at present. Throughout the East-Indies, when the\nsun and moon are eclipsed, the inhabitants believe that a great dragon\nwith his black claws is going to seize these luminaries; and all the\ntime the eclipse lasts, you may see whole rivers covered with the heads\nof these Indians, who have put themselves up to the throat in water,\nbecause, according to their notions, this is a very religious act,\nand will induce the sun or moon to defend itself bravely against the\ndragon. In America, it was thought that the sun and moon were angry\nwhen they were eclipsed, and every kind of absurdity was practised to\nregain their favour. The Grecians too, who had arrived at such a height\nof refinement--did they not, for a long time, believe that the moon was\neclipsed by the power of sorcery, and that the magicians caused her to\ndescend from the skies and cast a baneful influence on the herbs? And\nwere not we likewise in great alarm, but two-and-thirty years ago,[23]\nat a total eclipse of the sun? Did not an immense number of people shut\nthemselves up in caves and cellars; and were they easily persuaded to\nleave them by the philosophers who wrote so much to re-assure them?\n\n[Footnote 23: 1654. There have been others in Europe in 1724, 1715, and\n1716.]\n\nReally, replied she, all that is too ridiculous. There ought to be a\ndecree passed to prevent any body from ever talking of eclipses, lest\nthe memory of these follies should be perpetuated. The decree, said I,\nshould extend so far as to obliterate the memory of every subject, for\nI can think of nothing in the world which is not the monument of some\nhuman folly.\n\nAnswer me this question, said the Marchioness:--Are the inhabitants\nof the moon as much afraid of eclipses as those of the earth? How\nridiculous it is if the Indians of that world put themselves up to the\nchin in water; if the Americans believe the earth is angry with them;\nif the Greeks imagine we are enchanted, and suppose we shall injure\ntheir herbs; and in short, if we are inflicting on them all the terror\nthey have caused us? I have no doubt but that is the case, answered\nI; for why should the good folks in the moon have more sense than we?\nWhat right have they to frighten us, unless we can frighten them? I\ndare say, added I, laughing; that, as a prodigious number of men have\nbeen, and still are, silly enough to worship the moon; so there are\nsome in the moon that pay their adorations to the earth, and that\nthey are kneeling to one another. If it be so, she replied, we may\npretend to have an influence on the moon, and to produce the crisis\nin the diseases of her sick people, but as a little common sense in\nthe dwellers on that globe would be sufficient to destroy all these\nhonours, I must confess I am afraid they will have the advantage over\nus.\n\nDon't alarm yourself, said I; 'tis not probable that we are the\nonly fools in the universe. There is something in ignorance that is\ncalculated for general reception, and though I can only guess the\ncharacter of the people in question, yet I have no more doubt, that\ncould we form the comparison, we should find ourselves equal to them,\nthan I have that the accounts are true that we receive of their globe.\n\nWhat accounts do you receive enquired she. Those, I replied, that are\ngiven us by the learned who travel there every day by the assistance of\ntelescopes. They tell us that they have discovered in the moon earth,\nseas, lakes, elevated mountains, and profound abysses.\n\nYou astonish me, cried the Marchioness: I cannot imagine the\npossibility of discovering mountains and abysses, from the great\nirregularity they cause on the surface of the globe; but how do they\ndistinguish earth from sea? Because, answered I, the water,[24] by\nsuffering part of the light to pass through it, and consequently\nreflecting less than the earth, has, at a distance, the appearance of\ndark spots; whilst the solid parts, by reflecting all the light, look\nmuch more brilliant. The illustrious M. Cassini, who has acquired a\ngreater knowledge of the celestial bodies than any man in the world,\ndiscovered in the moon something which separates, then re-unites, and\nafterwards loses itself in a cavity. We have reason to believe, from\nits appearance that this is a river. In short all these different\nparts are now so well known to us, that they have been named after our\ngreat men. One place is called Copernicus, another Archimedes, another\nGabileus. Other parts have fancy names; there is a promontory of\ndecams, a sea of nectar, and so on; in fact our description of the moon\nis so particular, that if a learned man was to take a journey there, he\nwould be in no more danger of losing himself than I should in Paris.\n\n[Footnote 24: It is proved that there is no water in the moon, but\nthere are volcanoes; they may even be seen without a telescope, which\nwas the case on the 7th of March, 1794. _Philos. Trans._]\n\nBut, said she, I should like to have a more detailed account of the\ninterior of the country. The gentlemen of the observatory are not able\nto give it you, I replied; you must make enquiry of Astolfo, who was\ntaken to the moon by St. John. That is one of the pleasantest follies\nof Ariosto, I'm sure you will be amused with it. I confess it would\nhave been better if he had not introduced in it so respectable a name\nas that of St. John; poets, however, will take licenses, and we may\nventure to excuse this, for the whole poem is dedicated to a cardinal,\nand one of our popes has honoured it with a particular eulogium, which\nin some editions is placed before the work. This is the subject of the\npiece: Orlando, nephew to Charlemagne, had lost his senses, because\nthe beautiful Angelica preferred Medore to him. Astolfo, a valourous\nknight-errant was one day carried by his hippogriffe to the terrestial\nparadise, which was at the top of a very high mountain: there he met\nwith St. John, who informed him that it was necessary, in order to cure\nOrlando of his madness, for them to take a journey together to the\nmoon. Astolfo, delighted with the opportunity of seeing a new country,\nneeded no entreaty, and in a moment the apostle and knight took their\ncourse in a chariot of fire. As Astolfo was no philosopher, he was\nsurprised to find the moon much larger than it appeared while he was on\nthe earth; his astonishment however increased when he saw in it rivers,\nlakes, mountains, towns, forests, and, what I should have been equally\nsurprised at, nymphs hunting in the forests. But the most curious\nthing of all he saw was a valley in which was to be found every thing\nthat was lost on the earth: crowns, riches, the rewards of ambition,\nhopes without number, all the time that had been devoted to gaming, all\nthe alms men had ordered to be distributed after their death, verses\ndedicated to monarchs, and the sighs of lovers.\n\nAs to lovers' sighs, rejoined the Marchioness; I don't know what became\nof them in Ariosto's time, but at present I fancy there are none that\ngo to the moon. We should find a great many, said I, were they only\nthose that you have occasioned. In short, the moon is so careful in\ncollecting all that is lost here that not a single thing is wanting\nof the number: Ariosto has even whispered that Constantine's donation\nis there: the popes have assumed the government of Rome and Italy by\nvirtue of a donation from that emperor, but the truth is we can't tell\nwhat is become of it. There is but one sort of thing that has not\nescaped to the moon, and that is--folly: the people on earth have taken\ncare not to part with that; but to make the moon amends, an incredible\nquantity of wit has taken its flight thither, which is there preserved\nin phials; it is a very subtile fluid, and easily evaporates unless\ncarefully corked up: on each of these phials is written the name of\nthe owner. I think Ariosto puts them together without any order, but\nI like better to imagine them placed neatly in long rows. Astolfo was\nastonished to find full phials belonging to many wise people of his\nacquaintance. I am sure, continued I, mine has been considerably\naugmented since I began to indulge myself with you in philosophic and\npoetic reveries: but I console myself by supposing that after listening\nto all my fancies _your_ wits must inevitably become so volatile that\nat least a little phial full will evaporate, and make its way to the\nmoon.\n\nOur knight-errant found his own among the rest, and by St. John's\npermission took possession of it and snuffed up all the bottleful\nlike Hungary water: but according to Ariosto he did not carry it\naway with him; for, it soon returned to the moon, in consequence of\nan extravagance he was guilty of some time after. He did not forget\nOrlando's phial which had occasioned his journey; he had a good deal\nof trouble in carrying it, for the hero's wit was naturally weighty,\nand not a drop was wanting. At the end, Ariosto, according to his\ngeneral custom of saying whatever he pleases, addresses, in beautiful\nlanguage the following apostrophe to his mistress: \"Who, my fair one,\nwill ascend to the heavens, to restore the senses of which your charms\nhas robbed me? Hitherto I have not complained, but I know not what\nmay be the extent of my loss; should I continue the victim of your\nbeauty, I shall in the end become what I have represented Orlando to\nbe. However, I do not believe it is necessary for me to traverse the\nairy regions for the recovery of my senses; all the faculties of my\nsoul, instead of mounting to such unattainable height, are solacing\nthemselves in the beam of your eyes, and hovering round your lovely\nmouth. Ah! have compassion on me, and suffer me to take them back with\nmy lips.\" Is not the thought pretty? For my part, in adopting Ariosto's\nway of thinking, I should dissuade people from ever letting their wits\nescape, unless it were from the influence of love; for you see how\nnear they then continue, and how easily they may be regained; but when\nthey are lost in any other way, as we, for instance, are losing ours,\nin philosophising, they fly directly to the moon, and are not caught\nagain at pleasure. Never mind, said the Marchioness; ours will have an\nhonourable station among the philosophic phials; whereas, had we lost\nthem in the poet's way, they might perhaps hover around some unworthy\nobject. But, continued she, to deprive me completely of mine, tell me\nseriously whether you believe there are men living in the moon, for\nyou have not yet given me a decided opinion. Do I believe it? replied\nI; oh no, I don't believe there are men in the moon. We see how much\nall nature is changed even when we have travelled from here to China;\ndifferent faces; different figures; different manners; and almost a\ndifferent sort of understandings: from here to the moon the alteration\nmust be considerably greater. When adventurers explore unknown\ncountries, the inhabitants they find are scarcely human; they are\nanimals in the shape of men, even in that respect sometimes imperfect;\nbut almost devoid of human reason; could any of these travellers reach\nthe moon, they surely would not find it inhabited by men.\n\nThen what sort of creatures are they? asked the Marchioness\nimpatiently. Upon my word, madam, said I, I can't tell. Were it\npossible for us to be endowed with reason, and at the same time not\nof the human species; were we, I say, such beings, and inhabitants\nof the moon, should we ever imagine that this world contained so\nfantastical a creature as man? Could we form in our minds the image\nof a being composed of such extravagant passions, and such wise\nreflections; an existence so short, and plans so extensive; so much\nknowledge of trifles, and so much ignorance of the most important\nthings; such ardent love of liberty, yet such proneness to slavery; so\nstrong a desire for happiness, with so little power of being happy?\nThe people in the moon, must be very clever to imagine such a motley\ncharacter. We are incessantly contemplating our own nature, yet we\nare still unacquainted with it. Some have found it so difficult to\ncomprehend, that they have said the gods had taken too much nectar\nwhen they created men; and when they had recovered their calm reason,\nthey could not help laughing at their own work. Well, we are not in\ndanger of being laughed at by the inhabitants of the moon, answered\nthe Marchioness, as they would find it so impossible to imagine our\ncharacters; but I should be very glad if we could find out theirs,\nfor really, one feels a painful degree of curiosity in knowing that\nthere are beings in the moon we see yonder, and not having the means\nof discovering what they are. How is it, I replied, that you have no\nanxiety to be acquainted with all the southern part of the world which\nis yet unknown to us? We and the inhabitants of that part of the globe\nare voyaging in the same vessel, of which they occupy the head and we\nthe stern. You see that the head and the stern have no communication\nwith each other; that the people at one end know nothing of the nature\nor occupations of those at the other, and yet you want to be acquainted\nwith all that is going forward in the moon, that separate vessel which\nis sailing in a distant part of the heavens.\n\nOh! replied she, I consider myself already acquainted with the\ninhabitants of the southern world, for they certainly must be very\nmuch like us; and in short, we may know them better whenever we chuse\nto give ourselves the trouble of going to see them; we cannot miss\nthem, for they will remain in the same place; but these folks in the\nmoon----I am in despair about them. Were I, I replied, gravely to\nanswer you, _we know not what may happen_, you would laugh at me, and\nI should undoubtedly deserve it; nevertheless I think I could defend\nmyself in some measure from your ridicule. A thought has come into my\nhead, which is whimsical enough, and yet there is a wonderful deal\nof probability in it; I don't know how it has acquired the power of\nimposing that on my understanding, being in itself so extravagant. I\ndare say I shall likewise bring you to confess, contrary to reason,\nthat there may some day be a communication opened between the earth and\nthe moon. Recollect the situation of America before it was discovered\nby Christopher Columbus. The minds of its inhabitants were involved\nin the most profound ignorance; far from having any knowledge of the\nsciences, they were not even acquainted with the most simple and\nnecessary arts: they went without clothes; they had no weapon but the\nbow; they had no notion that men might be carried by animals; they\nsupposed the ocean an immense space, impassable by man, and bounded\nonly by the sky to which it was joined. It is true that after they had\nbeen several years in contriving to scoop out the trunk of a great\ntree, they ventured to commit themselves to the water in this rude\nsort of vessel, and went from one country to another, borne along by\nthe winds and waves: but as their bark was very liable to be overset,\nthey were frequently under the necessity of swimming to overtake it,\nso that properly speaking they were oftener in the water than in their\nship. You must suppose they would not have yielded a very implicit\ncredence to a person who had told them that a navigation was carried\non, incomparably superior to theirs; that by its means, every part of\nthe liquid expanse could be resorted to; that the vessels might be\ndetained at one spot whilst the billows were foaming around; that even\nthe speed with which they moved might be regulated; in short, that the\nocean, whatever its extent might be, was no obstacle to the commerce\nof different people. In a course of time, however, notwithstanding\ntheir incredulity, a spectacle new and astonishing presents itself\nto the eyes of these savages. Enormous bodies, extending their white\nwings to the blast, come sailing on the ocean with fearful rapidity,\nand discharging fire on every side: these tremendous machines cast on\ntheir shore men covered with iron; guiding with facility the monsters\nthat carry them, and darting thunderbolts from their hands to destroy\nall who attempt to resist them.--\"Whence come these awful beings? Who\nhath given them power to ride on the waters, and to wield the thunder\nof heaven? Are they children of the sun? assuredly they are not men!\"\nI cannot tell, madam, whether you feel as strongly as I do, the\nsurprise of the Americans; surely no event could ever have excited an\nastonishment equal to theirs. After thinking of that, I will not assert\nthat no communication can be established between our world and the\nmoon. Did the Americans ever conceive the idea that there would be any\nbetween their country and Europe, of which they had never heard? There\nis, I acknowledge, an immense space of air to travel through before we\ncould reach the moon; but did those great seas appear to the Americans\nmore capable of being crossed? Really, exclaimed the Marchioness,\nlooking earnestly at me, you are quite mad! Who denies it? answered I.\nIt is impossible you _should_ deny it said she. The Americans were so\nignorant that they could not imagine the practicability of crossing\nsuch an extent of water; but we have science enough to know that the\nair is passable, although we have no machine which can transport us\nthrough it. We do more than conjecture the possibility of rising in\nthe air, I replied; we have actually began to fly. Several persons\nhave discovered a method of fixing on wings which supported them in\nthe air, of moving these wings, and by their assistance, flying over\nrivers; these new-fashioned birds, did not, to be sure, soar like the\neagles, and their flight has sometimes cost them an arm or a leg;\nbut, however, these attempts answer to the first pieces of wood that\nwere launched into the water, and which served for the commencement\nof navigation: there was a vast difference between these mere planks\nand great ships, capable of going round the world; nevertheless, by\ngradual improvements we have learned to construct such vessels. The\nart of flying is but in its infancy; in due time it will be brought to\nperfection,[25] and some day or other we shall get to the moon. Can we\npretend to know every thing; to have made every possible discovery?\nPray let us give posterity leave to make some improvements as well as\nourselves. I won't give them leave, answered she, to break their necks\nby attempting to fly. Well, I replied, though flying be not perfected\nhere, the inhabitants of the moon, may perhaps excel us; and it will be\nthe same thing whether we go to them, or they come to us. We shall then\nbe like the Americans who knew so little of navigation whilst it was\nthoroughly understood at the other side of the globe. Pugh! cried the\nMarchioness; if the people in the moon were so expert, they would have\nbeen here before this time. The Europeans, answered I, did not find\ntheir way to America till six thousand years had elapsed; they were\nall that time in learning the art of navigation so completely as to\npass over the ocean. Probably the people in the moon are able to take\nlittle excursions into the air, very likely they are now practising;\nafter they have acquired more experience they will pay us a visit, and\nheaven knows what surprise it will occasion us! You are insupportable,\nexclaimed she, to combat me with such chimerical arguments. Take care,\nsaid I; if you provoke me I shall easily corroborate them. Remember\nthe earth has been made known to us by little and little. The ancients\npositively asserted that the torrid and frozen zones were uninhabitable\nfrom the excessive heat of the one, and cold of the others; and in\nthe time of the Romans the general chart of the world was made little\nlarger than that of their own empire, this at once shewed the grand\nidea they had of themselves, and their extreme ignorance of the earth.\nMen were however discovered, in these extremely hot, and intensely\ncold, climates, which discovery has greatly augmented the number of\ninhabitants on our globe. At one time it was believed that the ocean\ncovered every part of the earth except what was then known. Antipodes\nhad never been heard of, and who could imagine that men would be able\nto walk with their heads downwards? Yet after all, the antipodes\nwere found out. Now the map must be altered; a new half added to the\nearth!--You understand, madam, what I am aiming at; these antipodes,\nso unexpectedly discovered, should teach us to think modestly of our\nattainments: we may yet know much more of our own world, and then\nbecome acquainted with the moon; till that time we must not expect\nit, because our knowledge is progressive: when we understand our own\nhabitation, we may be permitted to study that of our neighbours. In\ntruth, said she, viewing me attentively, you enter into the subject so\ndeeply that one cannot but imagine you in earnest. Indeed I am not,\nanswered I; I only wished to shew you the possibility of maintaining an\nextravagant opinion, so as to embarrass, though not convince, a person\nof sense. Truth alone makes her way to the understanding; she can even\nconvince without exhibiting every proof: she is so adapted to our\ncapacities, that when first discovered, we seem only to have met with\nan old acquaintance.\n\n[Footnote 25: Montgolfier's balloons, invented in 1783, have gone\na great way towards the fulfilling of this prediction, but it is\nevidently impossible for it to be accomplished; these globes can only\ncarry us to a certain height, beyond that we could not breathe.]\n\nAh! this restores my tranquillity, said she. Your sophistry disturbed\nmy imagination. Let us retire; I am now composed and inclined to go to\nrest.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n                           _THIRD EVENING._\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\nThe Marchioness wished to pursue our astronomical researches during the\nday; but I told her that as the moon and stars were the subjects of\nour whimsical conversations, they ought to be our only confidants; we\ntherefore waited till evening, and then took our usual ramble in the\npark, which thus became sacred to learning.\n\nI have a vast deal of news to tell you, said I; I yesterday told you\nthat the moon, according to all appearances, was inhabited; but I have\nrecollected a circumstance which would expose its inhabitants to so\nmuch danger, that I don't know whether I shall not retract my former\nopinion. Indeed I will not suffer you to retract it, answered she.\nYesterday you prepared me to receive a visit from the inhabitants of\nthe moon, in a few days; now you are going to refuse them a place in\nthe creation. You shall not trifle with me in this way. You told me\nthe moon was inhabited; I surmounted the difficulty of believing it,\nand now I will continue to believe it. Softly! said I; we should give\nbut half an assent to an opinion of this nature, and reserve the other\nhalf in case we should find the opposite idea better supported. I am\nnot contented with words, she replied; give me facts: remember your\ncomparison of the moon with St. Dennis. But, answered I, the moon is\nnot so similar to the earth as St. Dennis is to Paris. The sun draws\nout of the earth and water exhalations, which rise to a certain height\nin the air, collect together, and form themselves into clouds. These\nclouds hover about the earth in irregular shapes, sometimes shadowing\none part, and sometimes another. In viewing the earth from a distance,\nthe appearance of its surface would continually vary, because a large\nspace of country darkened by a cloud would appear less luminous\nthan the other parts, and as the cloud dispersed, would resume its\nbrightness: from this cause the spots on the earth would be seen to\nchange their places, assume different forms, and sometimes be entirely\ndissipated. If, then, the moon had clouds in its atmosphere, we should\nobserve this variety of spots; but we find them always confined to the\nsame place, which proves that the sun raises no vapours from the moon.\nIt is then a body incomparably more solid than the earth, and its more\nsubtile particles easily dissipated as soon as they are put in motion\nby the heat. The moon, therefore must be a mass of rock and marble from\nwhich no evaporation proceeds; for exhalations so naturally arise where\nthere is water, that we cannot admit the existence of water where they\nare not found. What sort of beings do you think could inhabit these\nbarren rocks; this country without water? Ah! cried she, you forget\nthat you have assured me the seas in the moon were distinguishable.\nIt was a mere conjecture,[26] I replied; I am sorry to have led you\nastray. These dark places that have been taken for seas are probably\nonly deep cavities: at so great a distance it is excusable if we don't\nalways guess aright. But, said she, will your objections oblige us to\nconclude that the moon has no inhabitants? By no means, answered I, we\nwill neither decide one way or the other. I must own my weakness, she\nreplied; I cannot bear to remain in suspense. I must believe something:\nenable me to determine; let us ascertain the existence of these\npeople, or let us annihilate them at once, and think no more about\nthem. But preserve them if possible; I have formed an attachment for\nthem, of which I shall not easily divest myself. I will not leave the\nmoon without inhabitants then, said I; for your pleasure it shall be\nrepeopled.\n\n[Footnote 26: This is not, now, even conjectured, for with a telescope\nwe may see irregularities at the bottom of what were supposed to be\nseas.]\n\nAs the spots in the moon never vary,[27] we certainly, cannot believe\nthat there are any surrounding clouds which successively obscure the\nsurrounding parts; this however is not a proof that there are no\nexhalations; our clouds are formed of vapours, which at their first\nrising out of the earth, were in separate particles, too small to\nbe visible to us; in ascending they meet with a degree of cold that\ncondenses, and unites them into conspicuous forms; after which they\nfloat in the air till they dissolve in rain. But these exhalations\nfrequently remain dispersed and imperceptible, and fall back on the\nground in gentle dews. I suppose then that vapours of this kind are\nexhaled from the moon, for it is incredible that the moon should be\na large mass, composed of parts all equally solid, all in a state of\nequal tranquillity, all incapable of being influenced by the action\nof the sun. We know of no body which has these properties, not even\nmarble. The most dense bodies are subject to change, either from some\nsecret and interior motion, or from the action of external matter. As\nthe exhalations from the moon, do not form themselves into clouds, and\nreturn in showers, they can only become dew; for that purpose it is not\nnecessary that the atmosphere, which apparently adheres to the moon as\nours does to the earth, should be exactly similar to our air, nor the\nvapours exactly like ours; and that I think is probably the case:[28]\nthe matter must have a different disposition in the moon, from that\nin the earth; consequently the effects be different; however all that\nis of no importance; since we find that there is motion in the parts\nof the moon, either internal, or produced by foreign causes, we may\nagain people it, as we have the means of affording them subsistence; of\nproducing fruit, corn, water, and every thing that is needful. I mean\nfruit, corn, &c. such as the moon can produce, the nature of which I\nam unacquainted with; and all these in proportion to the wants of its\ninhabitants, of which I am likewise ignorant.\n\n[Footnote 27: M. Herschel has observed variations in them; which he,\nwith certainty, attributes to the industry of the inhabitants.]\n\n[Footnote 28: The atmosphere of the moon, if there be any, is quite\ninvisible to us.]\n\nThat is to say, answered the Marchioness, you are sure every thing is\nright, without knowing how it is; here is a little knowledge placed\nagainst a great deal of ignorance, but we must be content with it: I\nam very happy to have inhabitants restored to the moon; I am glad also\nthat you give them a surrounding atmosphere, for it seems to me that a\nplanet would be too naked without one.\n\nThese two different airs, said I, one belonging to the earth, the other\nto the moon, tend to prevent the communication between the two planets.\nIf it merely depended on the power of flying, who knows, as I yesterday\nsaid, but we may at some future time be sufficiently expert? All things\nconsidered, I think we must not expect this communication; the amazing\ndistance at which they are placed, would be a considerable difficulty;\nand were this obstacle removed; were the two planets nearer together,\nit would be impossible to pass from one atmosphere to the other. Water\nis the atmosphere of fishes; they never pass into that of birds, nor\nthe birds into theirs: they are not prevented by the distance, but the\nexistence of both depends on their proper element. Our air, we find,\nis mixed with more dense and gross vapours than that of the moon;\ntherefore an inhabitant of that world would be drowned if he entered\nour atmosphere, and fall lifeless on the earth.\n\nOh! how glad I should be, exclaimed the Marchioness, for a shipwreck to\ncast a good number of them on the earth, we might then examine them at\nour leisure. But, I replied, if they were clever enough to navigate\nthe surface of our atmosphere, and from a curiosity to examine us,\nshould be tempted to draw us up like fishes; would that please you? Why\nnot? answered she, laughing. I would voluntarily put myself in their\nnets, just for the pleasure of seeing the fishers.\n\nRemember, said I, you would be very ill by the time you reached the\ntop of our air; we are not capable of breathing it above a certain\nheight;[29] it is said that at the summit of some mountains we can\nscarcely do it. I wonder that people who are silly enough to believe\nthat corporeal genii inhabit the purest regions of the air, should not\ntell us, as the reason for our receiving such short and unfrequent\nvisits from these genii, that few of them understand diving, and even\nthose who excel in it cannot remain long in our gross air.\n\n[Footnote 29: Respiration is difficult at the height of a league. Half\na league higher it must be impossible.]\n\nWe see then there are many things to prevent us from leaving our own\nworld and going to the moon. To console ourselves let us guess all we\ncan about it. In the first place I conjecture that the inhabitants must\nsee the heavens, the sun and the stars of a very different colour from\nwhat they appear to us. We view those objects through a sort of glass\nwhich alters their appearance; this glass is our atmosphere, pervaded\nwith exhalations. Some moderns assert that it is blue as well as the\nsea, but we can only distinguish the colour in the parts of those\nelements that are most remote from the eye. The firmament, say they,\nin which are the fixed stars, has no light in itself, and consequently\nought to appear black,[30] but as we see it through our blue air, it\nseems to us to be blue. If that is true, the rays of the sun and stars\ncannot pass through the air without receiving a slight tinge from its\ncolour, and losing a degree of that which is natural to them. But\nsupposing the air is not coloured, it is certain that through a thick\nfog the light of a flambeau, seen at some distance, appears of a deep\nred, which is not its real colour; if therefore our air be considered\nonly a mist, it must necessarily alter the colour of the sky, sun, and\nstars. The celestial fluid alone could give us light and colours in\ntheir original state. Therefore as the atmosphere of the moon differs\nfrom ours, it is either of a different colour, or else it is another\nsort of mist, which varies the appearance of the celestial bodies. In a\nword, the glass through which the people in the moon view these objects\nis of a different nature to ours.\n\n[Footnote 30: Desaussure tells us it appears black when viewed at a\nleague's distance from the earth.]\n\nOn that account, replied the Marchioness, I prefer our world to the\nmoon; I think it impossible for the assortment of colours presented to\ntheir sight by the heavenly bodies to be so beautiful as that they form\nwhen viewed through the medium of our air. Let us suppose a red sky and\ngreen stars; the effect is not so agreeable as golden stars and a blue\nsky. One would think, said I, you were chusing clothes or furniture;\nbut believe me, nature has a good taste; let us trust to her for\nproviding a set of colours for the moon, there is no fear but it will\nbe a pleasing one. She has undoubtedly varied the appearance of the\nuniverse at each different point of view, and in all these varieties\nthere is great beauty.\n\nI acknowledge her talents, answered she; at each point of view she\nhas placed a different sort of glass, by which mean she has given the\nappearance of variety to objects which remain always the same. With a\nblue atmosphere, we have a blue sky, and perhaps with a red atmosphere,\nthe inhabitants of the moon have a red sky; yet this sky is absolutely\nthe same. In like manner she seems to have placed various sorts of\nglasses before the eyes of our imagination, through which the same\nobject presents to each of us a different appearance. To Alexander, the\nearth appeared a proper place to convert into an empire, for his sway;\nCeladon, viewed it only as a fit residence for Astrea; a philosopher\nconsiders it a large planet, travelling through the heavens, and\ninhabited by a number of madmen. I think the spectacle of nature cannot\nbe more varied than the prospects of different imaginations.\n\nThe varied appearance of objects viewed by the imagination, I replied,\nis the most surprising, for they are exactly the same things though\napparently so dissimilar: whereas there may be other natural objects\nvisible to the moon, and some that are visible to us may not be seen\nthere; perhaps, for instance, there is neither dawn nor twilight. The\nair that surrounds us, rises to some height, receives the rays of\nlight that would not reach the earth, and by its density, detains, and\nconveys to us a part of this light which was apparently not destined\nfor us: thus you see the dawn and twilight are particular favours\nconferred on us by nature; they are degrees of light to which we are\nnot regularly entitled, and which are bestowed on us in addition to\nour share. But the atmosphere of the moon, being purer than ours, is\nprobably not so well calculated to reflect the rays which it receives\nbefore the sun is risen, or after it is set. The poor inhabitants have\nnot then this light, which by its gradual increase prepares us so\nagreeably for the brilliancy of the sun; and in the evening reconciles\nus to its loss, by a progressive diminution. The moon, after the\nprofound gloom of night, receives the ardent blaze of the sun, as if\nby the instantaneous drawing up of a curtain: on the contrary, whilst\nstill enjoying the dazzling light of day, it is again plunged into\nextreme darkness: day and night are not connected by an agreeable\nmedium, partaking of both. The people in the moon never see the\nrainbow; for as the dawn is produced by the thickness of our air and\nvapours, so the rainbow is formed in the clouds which are dispersed\nin rain; thus we are indebted for the most beautiful appearances in\nnature, to things, in themselves, far from agreeable. Since the moon\nhas neither dense vapours nor rainy clouds, farewell to Aurora, and the\nRainbow! Alas! to what can they liken the beauties of that country;\nwhat a source of comparison are they deprived of!\n\nI should not much regret those comparisons, answered the Marchioness;\nand I think the inhabitants of the moon have ample amends made them\nfor the loss of rainbows and twilight by being exempted from thunder\nand lightning; for these likewise are formed in the clouds. They have\nconstant serenity of weather; never losing sight of the sun. They\nhave no gloomy nights in which the stars are concealed. They are\nunacquainted with those storms and tempests; those elemental wars which\nseem to indicate the wrath of heaven. Are they then to be pitied? You\nspeak of the moon as an enchanting spot, said I; yet I don't know\nwhether it is very delightful to be exposed throughout a day that is as\nlong as our fortnight[31] to a blazing sun, without a cloud to temper\nthe intensity of its heat. It is perhaps owing to this that nature has\nformed cavities in the moon, large enough to be seen by our telescopes;\nthey are not valleys situated between mountains, but hollow places in\nthe midst of large plains. How do we know whether the inhabitants,\noppressed by the perpetual radiance of the sun, may not take refuge in\nthese caverns? Perhaps they even build towns, and constantly reside in\nthese parts. We see that here our subterraneous Rome is larger than\nthe Rome which is built on the surface: we have only to remove the\nlatter, and the other would be a city such as we should find in the\nmoon. A large number of the people dwell in each cavern, and from one\ncavern to another is a subterraneous passage for the communication\nof the inhabitants. You laugh at this idea; I have no objection: but\nseriously, I think you are more likely to be mistaken than I. You\nbelieve the people in the moon must dwell on the surface, because we\nare on the surface of our globe; you should form quite a different\nopinion, and think that because we reside on the surface they dwell in\nthe interior parts; every thing must be very differently conducted here\nand in the moon.\n\n[Footnote 31: During this time the sun rises and sets as it does in our\nday.]\n\nIt does not signify, replied the Marchioness; I can't bear the idea\nof these people living in perpetual darkness. You would find it still\nmore difficult to admit the opinion, said I, if you knew that a great\nphilosopher of ancient times had informed us that the moon was the\ndwelling of souls who had on earth rendered themselves worthy of\nvery exalted happiness. He supposes that their felicity consists in\nlistening to the music of the spheres; but that when the moon comes\nunder the shadow of the earth, they are no longer able to hear this\ncelestial harmony, at which time they utter the most piercing cries,\nand the moon hastens on as fast as possible to relieve them from this\nagonizing situation. We may expect then, answered she, to have the\nvirtuous spirits sent here from the moon, for I suppose they likewise\nhonour our world by making it an abode of the blessed: so in these\ntwo planets it is thought a sufficient reward to superior goodness\nfor the soul to be transported from one world to the other. Really,\nI replied, it would not be a trifling enjoyment to take a survey of\ndifferent worlds; I often receive a great deal of pleasure from such a\njourney, although but in imagination; what must it be then to perform\nit in reality? It would be much more delightful than going from here\nto Japan; in other words, than crawling from one end of the earth to\nthe other with great labour, merely for the sake of seeing men. Well,\nsaid she, let us make this tour to the planets as we can; what should\nprevent us? We will place ourselves at all those different points of\nview, and at each of them survey the universe. Have we any thing else\nto see in the moon? You are not yet thoroughly acquainted with that\nworld, I replied. You recollect that the two motions of the moon, by\none of which she turns on her axis, and by the other round us, being\nequal, the latter always prevents the former from withdrawing any\npart from our sight, and consequently we always view the same side.\nThat half therefore is the only part that can see our world, and as\nthe moon, with regard to us, must be considered not to turn on her\ncentre, the half to which we are visible, sees us always fixed in the\nsame part of the sky.[32] When it is night, and the nights there are\nas long as our fortnight, she sees at first only a very small part\nof the earth enlightened; then a larger portion, and at length the\nlight seems hourly to spread over the earth, till it becomes entirely\nluminous. On the contrary these changes in the moon are visible to\nus only from one night to another, because we are a long time without\nseeing her. I should like to hear the mistakes which the philosophers\nof that world fall into from the apparent immobility of our earth,\nwhilst all the other heavenly bodies rise and set in the space of a\nfortnight. Probably they consider the earth immovable in consequence\nof her enormous size, being sixty times larger than the moon; and when\nthe poets are disposed to flatter indolent princes, I have no doubt\nbut they compare them to this orb in her state of majestic repose. It\ndoes not however appear an entire immobility. From the moon they must\nsee the earth turn on her axis. Our Europe, Asia, America, present\nthemselves one after another, in different shapes, nearly as they are\nrepresented on our maps. Only imagine what a novel sight this must be\nto travellers coming from the other side of the moon to that which is\nalways facing us! How incredulously _they_ must have heard the accounts\nof the first that spoke of it, who lived at the opposite side. It is\ncome into my head, said the Marchioness, that from that half of the\nmoon to the other they make pilgrimages to come and examine us, and\nthat particular honours and privileges are destined for those who have\nseen the great planet. At least, answered I, they who constantly see us\nhave the privilege of being better illumined during their nights; the\ninhabitants of the other side must be much less agreeably situated in\nthat respect.\n\n[Footnote 32: That is to say only at the same distance from the zenith\nand the horizon.]\n\nNow, madam, let us pursue our journey to the different planets; we\nhave been long enough at the moon. Next, in the road from the moon to\nthe sun, we find Venus. In talking of Venus I shall resume my argument\nconcerning St. Dennis. Venus, as well as the moon, turns on her axis\nand goes round the sun: with telescopes it is seen that this planet,\nlike the moon, is sometimes a crescent, sometimes on the decrease\nsometimes full, according to her different situations relatively to\nthe earth. The moon, according to all appearances, is inhabited; why\nthen should Venus be destitute of inhabitants? But, interrupted the\nMarchioness, with your _why nots_ you will put inhabitants in all the\nplanets. Certainly, I replied, this _why not_ has the power of peopling\nthem all. We find that they are of the same nature, all opaque bodies,\nillumined only by the sun, and the reflection of his rays on each\nother; and having all the same motions. So far then they are alike,\nand yet we are to suppose that these great planets were formed to\nremain uninhabited, and that such being the natural condition of them\nall, an exception should be made in favour of the earth--let who will\nbelieve it; I cannot. A few minutes, answered she, have wonderfully\nconfirmed your opinion. Just now the moon was on the point of being\nquite deserted, and you cared very little about the matter, and now,\nif one were to presume to deny that all the planets are as full of\ninhabitants as the earth, I see you would be quite in a passion. It\nis true, said I, that in the positive fit I had just now, if you had\ncontradicted me on the subject of these said inhabitants, I should\nnot only have maintained their existence, but in all probability have\ndescribed their formation. There are certain moments when we feel\nassured of a thing, and I never felt so fully persuaded of my opinion\nas I was then; however, though my ardour is now a little abated, I\nstill think it would be very strange for the earth to be so well\ninhabited, and the other planets perfectly solitary; and numerous as we\nknow the inhabitants of the earth to be, we do not see them all, our\nworld contains as many species of animals that are invisible to us, as\nof those that we discern. From the elephant to the hand-worm we can\nexamine them; there our sight is bounded: but after the hand-worm is an\ninfinitude of little animals not discernible by the naked eye, and to\nwhich, in point of size, he is an elephant. With magnifying glasses,\nwe may see a drop of water, vinegar, or any other liquor, filled with\nlittle fishes or serpents, which we should never have thought of\nfinding there; and some philosophers suppose the taste of these liquors\nis produced by punctures which the little animals make in the tongue.\nMix these liquors with certain things, expose them to the sun, or leave\nit to corrupt, and you will find new sorts of animals.\n\nMany masses, apparently solid, contains scarcely any thing but a\nheap of these small animals, which in so confined a situation find\nroom enough for their little movements. The leaf of a tree is a\nworld, inhabited by worms imperceptibly small, to which it appears\nan amazing extent, having mountains and caverns, and so large that\nfrom one side of the leaf to the other the little worms have no more\ncommunication with each other than we have with the antipodes. From\nsuch considerations I cannot doubt of a great planet being inhabited.\nThere have been found even in very hard stones an endless number of\nworms lodged in every interstice, feeding on parts of the stone.\nConsider the countless numbers of these little beings, and how many\nyears they could subsist on a quantity of food as big as a grain of\nsand; and then though the moon should be but a mass of rock, we may let\nit be eaten by its inhabitants rather than not assign any to it. In\nshort every thing is animated; every thing is full of life. Associate\nin your calculation all the species that have been lately discovered,\nand those that we may suppose are yet undiscovered, with all that we\nare in the habit of seeing, and you will surely confess that the earth\nis amply stocked with living creatures; that nature must delight in\nbestowing life since she has created such infinite variety of beings so\nsmall as to elude our sight. Can you believe that after the earth has\nbeen thus made to abound with life, the rest of the planets have not a\nliving creature in them?\n\nMy reason is convinced, answered the Marchioness; but my imagination\nis overwhelmed with such an infinite variety and number of inhabitants\nexisting in each of the planets; for as there is no dull uniformity in\nnature, the difference of species must be in proportion to the number\nof beings--how can imagination grasp such a vast idea? Imagination, I\nreplied, is not required to represent all this to us; we can penetrate\nno farther than we are assisted by our sight; we can only perceive,\nfrom a general glance, that nature has established an inconceivable\ndiversity in her works. The human face is formed every where on the\nsame plan, but still how great is the difference between the visages of\nEuropeans and of Africans or Tartars: not only in separate nations do\nwe find a distinguishing character of countenance, even among the same\npeople every family seems formed from a distinct model. How astonishing\nis the power of nature in giving such variety to so simple an object!\nIn the universe we are but as a little family whose faces resemble each\nother; the next planet contains another family who have a different\nstyle of countenance. Probably the variations are greater in proportion\nto the distance, and could we compare the inhabitants of the earth\nand moon, we should easily see that they were nearer neighbours than\nthose of the earth and of Saturn. Here, for instance, our thoughts are\nmade vocal; the people in another planet only express themselves by\ngestures; farther off, they may dispense with any sort of conversation.\nHere our reason is matured by experience; elsewhere experience may add\nlittle to the understanding; at a greater distance, children may know\nas much as old men. In this world we give ourselves more uneasiness\nabout the future than the past; on another globe, the past afflicts\nmore than the future; on a third, the people are neither distressed by\none nor the other, and they perhaps are not the most unhappy. It is\nsaid that we are possibly in want of a sixth sense belonging to our\nnature, by means of which our knowledge would be greatly augmented.\nThis sense is most likely in some other world, where one of our five is\nwanting. There may even be a very great number of natural senses, but\nin the distribution of them among the planets, only five have fallen\nto our share, and with these five we remain satisfied because we don't\nknow of any more. Our sciences have certain limits which no human\nunderstanding has exceeded: at a particular point we stop, the rest is\nreserved for other worlds, where they are ignorant of many things that\nwe know. This planet is blest with the delightful emotions of love, but\nat the same time desolated by the fury of war. Another enjoys perpetual\ntranquillity, but with this uninterrupted peace, love is unknown, and\ncalmness degenerates into ennui. In short whatever nature has done on\na small scale, for the distribution of happiness and talents among us,\nshe has undoubtedly performed on a more extensive plan for the benefit\nof the universe; at once diversifying and equalizing all.\n\nAre you satisfied, madam, said I? Have I given your imagination room to\nexert itself? Do you not already see the people of different planets?\nNo, answered she, with a sigh: all you have been saying is so vague and\nunsatisfactory; there is nothing in it for the mind to fix on. I want\nsomething more determined; more marked. Well then, I replied, I will\nnot conceal any particulars that I am acquainted with: I can give you\nsome information that you will acknowledge to be undoubted, when I tell\nyou my authorities. Prepare to listen patiently if you please, for it\nis a long story.\n\nIn one of the planets, I shall not at present tell you which, there is\na people that are very active, laborious and skillful. Like some of our\nArabs, they live by pillage, and that is their only fault. They live\ntogether in the most harmonious manner, labouring incessantly and in\nconcert, for the common good: above all their chastity is unexampled;\nit is true they have no great merit in it; they are all sterile; there\nis no difference of sex among them. But, interrupted the Marchioness,\nwere you not aware that the author of this marvellous story wanted\nto make a fool of you? How could such a nation be perpetuated? No, I\nreplied, very coolly, they did not intend to make a fool of me; all\nthat I have told you is fact, yet the nation is perpetuated. They\nhave a queen whose royalty consists, not in directing the business\nof the state, not in leading her subjects to the field of battle,\nbut in her surprizing fecundity, she has millions of children; in\nshort the production of them occupies the whole of her time. She has\na large palace, divided into a vast number of chambers, in each of\nwhich a cradle is prepared for a little prince, and she is confined\nsuccessively in all these chambers, always surrounded by her courtiers\nwho congratulate her on the noble privilege she enjoys exclusively of\nher subjects.\n\nI see, madam, that you wish to enquire who are her lovers, or, to give\nthem a more respectable appellation, her husbands. Some of the eastern\nqueens have seraglios of men; she apparently does the same, but she\nkeeps it a greater secret than they; this may arise from modesty, but\nit is acting with little dignity. Among these Arabs who are always\nin action, are found a few strangers, in person very much resembling\nthe natives of the country, though extremely different in disposition,\nfor they are remarkably indolent; they never stir out nor engage in\nany business; and were not these persons kept for the pleasure of the\nqueen, they would hardly be suffered to remain amongst so industrious a\npeople. If, in reality, notwithstanding the smallness of their number,\nthey are the fathers of many thousands of children, they deserve to be\nexcused from any other employment; and it is a striking proof that this\nis their only function, that as soon as the queen has brought forth\nher ten thousand children, the Arabs kill, without mercy, the unhappy\nforeigners, then become useless to the state.\n\nHave you done? enquired the Marchioness. Thank heavens! Let us now\nresume a little common sense, if we can. Where have you picked up this\nromance? What poet is the inventor of it? I again tell you, answered I,\nthat it is no romance. All this takes place on our globe, even under\nour eyes.--If I must explain the mystery, these Arabs are no other than\nbees.\n\nAfter this I gave her the natural history of bees, of which she had\nbefore scarcely ever heard more than the name. In concluding, you see,\nsaid I, that in attributing to other planets what is daily passing\nhere, we should be accused of telling the most extravagant falsehoods.\nThe history of insects, in particular, is a collection of wonders. I\nhave no doubt of it, she replied: the silk-worm alone, with which I was\nbetter acquainted than the bees, would afford abundant materials for\nyour descriptions. A people undergoing such wonderful changes as to\nbe totally unlike what they formerly were; at one part of their lives\ncrawling, at another, flying: in short a thousand incredible things\nmight be told of the character and manners of this nation.\n\nMy imagination continued the Marchioness, is beginning to work on the\nsubject you have given me--the inhabitants of all the planets: I am\nconjecturing their figures; I can discern some of them very distinctly,\nbut I don't know how to describe them to you. As to their figures, said\nI, I advise you to leave the formation of them to your dreams: we shall\nhear to-morrow what they have suggested, and whether they have been\nable to represent the inhabitants of any of the planets.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n                           _FOURTH EVENING._\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n          PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLANETS VENUS, MERCURY,\n                       MARS, JUPITER AND SATURN.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nThe dreams of the Marchioness did not assist her; they represented\nnothing that did not bear a resemblance to what we see here. I\nhad the same complaints to make as certain people, whose\npaintings are always fanciful and grotesque, do at the sight of our\npictures,--_Pshaw_, say they, _these are all men; here are no objects\nof imagination_. We therefore resolved to content ourselves with the\nconjectures we should be able to make concerning the inhabitants of\nthe planets as we continued our journey: we had last night got as far\nas Venus. We are assured, said I, that Venus turns on her axis, but it\nis not ascertained in how long a time, consequently we cannot tell the\nlength of her days. Her years lasts but about eight months, as she is\nnot longer than that in performing her revolution round the sun. She\nis of the same size as the earth, therefore the earth and Venus appear\nequally large to each other. I am glad of that, said the Marchioness;\nthen I hope the earth is to Venus the shepherd's star, and the parent\nof love, as Venus is to us. These appellations can be proper only for\na pretty little, brilliant, gay looking planet. True, answered I; but\ndo you know what makes Venus look so beautiful at a distance?--it is\nthe effect of her being very frightful when near. With good telescopes\nit has been seen that she is covered with mountains, much higher than\nours, sharp-pointed, and apparently very dry.[33] This kind of surface\nis the best calculated to reflect the light with great brilliancy.\nOur earth, whose surface is very smooth, compared with that of Venus,\nand partly covered with water, probably looks less beautiful at a\ndistance. So much the worse, said the Marchioness; I should like her to\npreside over the loves of the inhabitants of Venus; they must certainly\nunderstand what love is. Oh! undoubtedly, I replied; the people in\nthat planet, are all Celadons and Sylvanders, and their every-day\nconversations are finer than the most admired in Clelia. Their climate\nis very favourable to the tender passion. Venus is nearer to the sun\nthan we; and receives more light and heat: she is about two thirds the\ndistance of the earth, from the sun.\n\n[Footnote 33: M. Herschel's observations contradict this idea. Venus\nhas a very dense atmosphere, which prevents us from distinguishing any\nthing on her surface; the brilliant appearance of this planet arises\nfrom her proximity to the earth.]\n\nI can see, interrupted the Marchioness, what sort of people the\ninhabitants are. They are much like the Moors of Granada: a little\ndark, sun-burnt people, scorched with the sun; full of wit and\nanimation, always in love, always making verses, listening to music,\nhaving galas, dances and tournaments. Give me leave to tell you, madam,\nanswered I, that you know but little of the inhabitants of Venus. Our\nMoors of Granada when compared with them would appear as cold and\nstupid as Greenlanders.\n\nBut what must the inhabitants of Mercury be? We are above twice the\ndistance from the sun that they are. They must be almost mad with\nvivacity. Like most of the negroes, they are without memory; never\nreflecting; acting by starts and at random: in short Mercury is the\nbedlam of the universe. The sun appears there nine times larger than it\ndoes to us: the light they receive is so brilliant that our finest days\nwould be but twilight in comparison of theirs; perhaps they would find\nthem so dark as not to be able to distinguish one thing from another.\nThe heat to which they are accustomed is so intense, that they would\nbe almost frozen in our Africa. In all probability our iron, silver\nand gold would be melted in their world, and only be seen in a liquid\nstate, as we in general have water, which in some degrees of cold\nbecomes a solid body. The inhabitants of Mercury would not imagine\nthat in another world those liquors, which perhaps form their rivers,\nare the hardest of all bodies. Their year lasts but three months. The\nlength of their day is not known to us, because Mercury is so small\nand so near the sun, that it exceeds the art of all our astronomers to\nobserve him with sufficient accuracy to determine what sort of motion\nhe has on his centre: the inhabitants, I think, must wish it to be\nperformed in a short time, for scorched as they are with the fierceness\nof the sun, the coolness of night is undoubtedly very desirable to\nthem. The part which by rotation is deprived of the sun's light, is\nillumined by Venus and the earth, which must appear very large. As to\nthe other planets, being farther off than the earth, they, seen from\nMercury, appear much smaller than to us, and afford very little light\nto that planet.\n\nI don't feel so much for its inhabitants on that account, replied the\nMarchioness, as from the inconvenience they must suffer from such\nexcessive heat. Let us try if we can't relieve them in some way. Is it\nnot probable they have long and plentiful showers, such as we are told\nfall continually for four months together, in our hot countries, at the\nseasons when the heat is most intense?\n\nIt may be the case, answered I; and we have another way of giving\nthem relief. There are some parts of China which from their situation\nought to be very hot, and yet, even in the month of July and August\nthe weather is so cold that their rivers freeze. This coldness arises\nfrom the quantities of salt-petre with which the countries abound;\nthe exhalations, drawn up in great abundance by the heat are of a\ncold nature. Mercury, if you please, shall be a little planet made of\nsalt-petre, and the sun, by attracting the cooling exhalations, will\nthus prevent the evil it would otherwise be the cause of. However,\nwe may rest assured that nature would not place beings where it was\nimpossible for them to exist; and that habit, and ignorance of a better\nclimate, render this situation agreeable: Mercury therefore may perhaps\ndo very well without salt-petre, or abundant rains.\n\nAfter Mercury, you know, we find the sun. We cannot possibly place\ninhabitants there: the _why not_ fails in this case. We conclude from\nthe earth being inhabited that other bodies of the same nature must\nbe so too: but the sun does not resemble the earth, and the rest of\nthe planets. He is the source of all that light which the planets only\nreflect to each other after they have received it from him. They make\nexchanges, if I may so express myself, with one another, but none of\nthem can bestow an original light. The sun is the sole proprietor of\nthat treasure; which he distributes freely on every side. The light,\nthus issuing from the centre, is reflected from every solid body it\nmeets, and from one planet to another it proceeds in bright streams\nthat intermix, and cross each other in a thousand directions, forming\na splendid tissue of the richest materials. The grand luminary by\nbeing placed in the centre is in the most advantageous situation for\nanimating each planet with his heat and radiance. The sun, then, is\nof a peculiar nature, but what that nature is, we find it difficult\nto imagine. Formerly it was believed to be a pure fire, but lately we\nhave been undeceived by observing spots on the surface. As certain new\nplanets had just before been discovered, (I shall give you an account\nof these planets hereafter;) which entirely engrossed the attention\nof the philosophers, a sort of mania for new planets seized their\nminds, and they immediately concluded these spots were some; that they\nperformed a circle round the sun, and necessarily concealed some part\nof his light by turning their dark side towards the earth. The learned\nalready, through these planets, complimented the different princes of\nEurope. Some gave them the name of one prince; some of another, and\nperhaps in time there would have been a great contest to know who had\nthe best right to name these spots.\n\nI don't like their plan, said the Marchioness. You told me, the other\nday, that the different parts of the moon were named after learned\nmen; I thought that very proper: as princes monopolize the earth, it\nis but fair that astronomers should have the sky for their share, and\nnot suffer princes to intrude on their domain. Allow them, however,\nI replied, if territory should be wanting, to consign to them some\nplanet, or some part of the moon. As to these spots on the sun, they\ncan make no use of them; for instead of planets, we find they are only\nclouds of smoke or dross arising from the sun. Sometimes these clouds\nare greatly accumulated, sometimes we see little of them, and at other\ntimes they totally disappear. Sometimes a number of them are combined\ntogether, then they are separated into small parts; at one time they\nare very dark, at another they grow pale. It appears as if the sun\nwas some kind of liquid; many people think it is melted gold, in a\ncontinual state of ebullition, producing impurities, which the rapidity\nof its motion casts up from the surface; they are afterwards consumed\nand others produced. Only think what amazing bodies these are. Some\nof them are seventeen hundred times[34] larger than the earth, for\nyou must know, the earth is more than a million times smaller than the\nsun.[35] Imagine therefore what must be the quantity of this liquid\ngold, or the extent of this ocean of light and fire!\n\n[Footnote 34: The largest of the sun's spots are scarcely three times\nlarger than the diameter of the earth, or twenty-seven times its bulk.]\n\n[Footnote 35: The earth is only a hundred, or to speak with more\nexactness, a hundred and eleven times, smaller.]\n\nOther philosophers say, and with great plausibility, that the spots, or\nat least the greatest part of them, are not newly produced, and then\ndestroyed after a certain time; but large, solid, masses, of irregular\nforms, always subsisting; sometimes floating on the surface of the\nsun, sometimes partly, or entirely buried in the liquid substance, and\npresenting to our view different projections according to the size of\nthe part that remains uncovered. Perhaps they may be parts of some\ngreat mass of matter which serves as aliment to the fire of the sun.\nHowever, let the sun be what it will, it does not by any means appear\nhabitable.[36] It is a pity; the situation would be advantageous:\nplaced at the centre, its inhabitants would see the planets going\nround them in regular orbits, whilst to us their motions seem to have\nperplexing varieties, which are merely the effect of our not observing\nthem from the best place; that is, the centre of their circles. What a\nsad thing it is: there is but one spot where the study of the celestial\nbodies would be extremely easy, and at that spot there is nobody to\npursue the study. You forget yourself, answered the Marchioness. Were\nany one placed on the sun, he would neither see the planets nor the\nfixed stars; would not the light of the sun efface every other object?\nThe inhabitants would doubtless think themselves the only people in\nexistence.\n\n[Footnote 36: Some natural philosophers have however thought that the\nsun might be the cause of heat without being itself hot; and that there\nwas a possibility of its being inhabited. M. Herschel believes its\npopulation very abundant. Trans. Philos. 1795. D\u00e9cade Philosophique.]\n\nI acknowledge my error, I replied: I was thinking of the situation of\nthe sun, without considering the effect of such an excessive light: but\nalthough you have so properly corrected my mistake, yet you must allow\nme to tell you that you have fallen into one yourself. The inhabitants\nof the sun would not see any thing: they would be either incapable\nof enduring so immoderate a light, or, were their eyes sufficiently\nstrong, of receiving it unless they were at some distance; therefore\nthe sun could only be a habitation for people without sight. In short,\nwe have abundant proofs that this luminary was not intended to be a\ndwelling-place; and therefore we may as well continue our planetary\njourney. We are now stopping at the central point which is always the\nlowest part in any thing that is round; and, by the way, I should tell\nyou that in going from our world to this centre we have travelled\nthirty-three millions of leagues. We must now return the way we came.\nWe pass by Mercury, Venus, the Earth and the Moon; all which we have\nvisited. Then we arrive at Mars. I don't know that there is any thing\nremarkable in this planet. The days there are about half an hour longer\nthan ours; and the years twice the length of ours, except a month and a\nhalf. Mars is four times less than the earth,[37] and the sun appears\nrather smaller and less brilliant than it does to us.--In short, Mars\ncontains nothing calculated to arrest our attention.\n\n[Footnote 37: Its volume, or bulk is five times smaller.]\n\nBut what a beautiful object is Jupiter, surrounded by his four moons,\nor satellites! These moons are four little planets which, whilst\nJupiter revolves in twelve years round the sun, constantly go round him\nas the moon does round the earth. But, interrupted the Marchioness,\nhow is it that there are planets which go round other planets, no\nbetter than themselves? It seems to me that there would be much more\nregularity and uniformity in assigning to all the planets but one sort\nof orbit in which they should move round the sun.\n\nAh! madam, I replied, were you but acquainted with the vortices of\nDescartes; those vortices, so terrible in name, and so charming in the\nideas they give rise to; you would not talk in this way. My wits must\nall go, said she, laughing. I must know what these vortices are. Make\nme quite mad at once: now I have dipped into philosophy I can't trouble\nmyself about the care of my senses: spite of the world's laughter, we\nwill talk of the vortices. I did not know you had so much enthusiasm,\nsaid I; 'tis pity it has no other object than vortices.\n\nWhat we call a vortex is a quantity of matter, whose detached parts\nmove all in the same direction, but allowed at the same time to have\nsome little movements peculiar to themselves, provided they still\npursue the general course. A vortex of wind, for instance, is a vast\nnumber of little particles of air, turning all together in a circular\ndirection, and involving whatever comes in their way. The planets you\nknow are borne along by the celestial fluid, which is prodigiously\nsubtle and active. All the celestial matter, from the sun to the fixed\nstars, constantly turns round, carries the planets along with it, and\nmakes them proceed round the sun in the same direction, but in longer\nor shorter periods, according to their distance from the centre. Even\nthe sun is made to turn on his axis by being exactly in the midst of\nthis moving matter; you will therefore observe, that if the earth were\nin the central situation she could not be exempted from this rotation.\n\nSuch is the great vortex of which the sun is master; but the planets,\nat the same time, form little vortices in imitation of the sun. Each\nof them whilst turning round the sun, turns likewise on itself, and\ncarries in its motion a certain portion of the celestial matter,\nwhich is ready to receive any impulse that would not prevent it from\nfollowing the general course: this is a vortex of any particular\nplanet, and it extends as far as the motion of this planet has any\ninfluence. If a smaller planet comes within the vortex of a larger one,\nit is irresistibly carried round that larger one, and altogether, the\nlarge, and the small planet, and the vortex that encloses them, perform\ntheir revolution round the sun. Thus at the commencement of creation we\nobliged the moon to follow us because she came within the influence of\nour vortex, and was by that mean subjugated to our will. Jupiter, the\nplanet we were speaking of, was more fortunate, or more powerful than\nthe earth. Four little planets were in his neighbourhood, and he became\nmaster of them all; and we, who are a planet of some importance, would\nprobably have felt his power if we had been near him. He is a thousand\ntimes larger than the earth;[38] and would easily have drawn us into\nhis vortex, and made us one of his moons; instead of this we have a\nplanet to attend on us: so true is it that the situation into which we\nare thrown decides the fate of our lives.\n\n[Footnote 38: We may even say thirteen hundred times.]\n\nAnd how do we know, answered the Marchioness, that we shall always\nremain where we are? I begin to tremble lest we should be foolish\nenough to approach such an enterprizing planet as Jupiter, or that he\nshould come to us, for the sake of drawing us into his vortex; for\nI can't help thinking, from your description of the agitated state\nof this celestial fluid, that it must move the planets irregularly,\nsometimes urging them nearer together, sometimes sending them to a\ngreater distance. We may as well expect to gain as to lose by such an\neccentric motion, said I; perhaps we may make a conquest of Mercury or\nMars, which are smaller planets, and incapable of resisting us. However\nwe have no occasion for either hope or fear; the planets will remain in\ntheir places; and, like the former kings of China, they are forbidden\nto aim at conquest. You have observed that when oil is mixed with\nwater, the oil swims at the top. Put any substance that is extremely\nlight on both these, and the oil will support it, so that it shall not\ntouch the water: but put a heavier body, of a certain weight, it will\npass through the oil, which is too weak to stop it, and keep falling\ntill it meets the water, which has sufficient force to bear it up.\nThus two liquors put together, being of unequal weight, will not mix,\nbut place themselves in different situations; and neither will one\nrise, nor the other descend: pour on these other liquors which are of\na nature to remain separate, and the same effect is still produced. In\nlike manner the celestial matter which fills this grand vortex, is in\nseparate strata, encircling each other, and of unequal weight, like oil\nand water, and some other liquors. Some planets likewise are heavier\nthan others,[39] each therefore stops in the layer which has the degree\nof force necessary for supporting it, and keeping it in a state of\nequilibrium; and you must be convinced that it can never go beyond this\nstratum.\n\n[Footnote 39: The Cartesians carried their illusion so far as to\nbelieve that so solid a mass as a planet could be steadily supported by\nthe \u00e6therial fluid, the most subtle of all fluids.]\n\nI understand, replied the Marchioness, that the different degrees of\nweight are sufficient to keep them in their proper ranks. I wish with\nall my heart there was some such regulating power among us, that would\nserve to fix people in the situation most suitable to them! You have\nquite removed my uneasiness with regard to Jupiter. I am very glad he\nwill let us remain quietly with our little vortex, and single moon. I\nfeel very well contented with one attendant, and do not envy him his\nfour.\n\nYou would do wrong if you did, said I; he has no more than are\nnecessary. He is five times farther from the sun than we, that is,\na hundred and sixty-five[40] millions of leagues distant from it,\nconsequently his moons receive, and reflect, but a feeble light: the\nnumber therefore compensates for the little effect produced by each:\nwere they not separately so inefficient, four moons would appear\nunnecessary, as Jupiter turns on his axis in ten hours, and of course\nthe nights are very short. The satellite which is the nearest to\nJupiter, performs its circle round him in two-and-forty hours; the\nnext in three days and a half; the third, in seven; the fourth, in\nseventeen; and by the inequality of their progress, they form a most\npleasing spectacle for this planet. At one time they rise all four\ntogether; then, almost immediately separate; sometimes they are all\nat the full, placed in a line, one above another; afterwards they are\nseen at equal distances in the sky; then when two are rising the other\ntwo will set. Above all I should like to see the perpetual variety of\neclipses among them, for there is not a day passes in which they do not\neclipse each other, or the sun.[41] Surely as eclipses are so familiar\nto the inhabitants of that world, they must be considered a subject of\namusement, rather than terror, as they are here.\n\n[Footnote 40: Calculating with more exactness, 179.]\n\n[Footnote 41: Or; we may add, in which they are not eclipsed by the\nshadow of Jupiter, which happens the most frequently.]\n\nYou will not fail, I suppose, said the Marchioness, to people these\nfour moons, though they are only little subaltern planets, intended\nmerely to give light to another during the night. Undoubtedly not, I\nreplied. These little planets are not unworthy of inhabitants because\nthey are unfortunate enough to be subjected to a larger planet.\n\nI think, then, answered she, these satellites ought to be like colonies\nto Jupiter; that their inhabitants should, if possible, receive from\nhim their laws and customs, and in return, render him some degree of\nhomage, and always consider the great planet with respect. Would it\nnot be needful, said I, for the moons occasionally to send deputies\nto Jupiter, who should take an oath of fidelity to him? I must own\nthe little superiority we possess over the people in our moon makes\nme doubt whether Jupiter has much influence over the inhabitants of\nhis satellites, and I think the only superiority he can aspire to is\nthat of impressing them with awe. For of what a terrific size he must\nappear! To the planets nearest to him he looks sixteen hundred times\nlarger than our moon appears to us.[42] Truly if the Gauls in ancient\ntimes were afraid the heavens would fall and crush them to death, the\ninhabitants of this moon may with greater propriety apprehend the fall\nof Jupiter. Perhaps, she replied, that is the subject of alarm to them\ninstead of the eclipses, which you assure me they see without fear;[43]\nfor as they are exempt from one folly, they must be subject to some\nother. Undoubtedly, answered I. The inventor of a third system, which\nI mentioned the other day, the celebrated Tycho Brahe, one of the\ngreatest astronomers that ever lived, felt none of the vulgar terror\nat an eclipse; he was too much accustomed to study the nature of such\na phenomenon; but what do you think he was afraid of instead?--If when\nhe first went out of doors the first person he saw was an old woman; or\nif a hare crossed the path he had taken, Tycho Brahe thought the day\nwould be unfortunate, and returning in haste to his apartment, he shut\nhimself up without venturing to engage in any occupation whatever.\n\n[Footnote 42: Thirty-six times larger than we see the moon: and they\nreceive from him one thousand two hundred and ninety times more light.]\n\n[Footnote 43: Their solar eclipses are of much longer duration than\nours.]\n\nIt would be unjust, said she, if such a man as he could not with\nimpunity overcome the fear of an eclipse, for the inhabitants of the\nsatellite we were speaking of, to be exempted from it on easier terms.\nWe will not spare them: they shall submit to the general doom; and if\nthey escape one error they shall be liable to another.\n\nA difficulty has just occurred to me, continued she, you must remove it\nif you can: if the earth is so small in comparison of Jupiter, are we\nvisible to the inhabitants of that planet? I am afraid we are unknown\nto them.\n\nReally I think so, answered I; the earth is certainly too small to be\ndistinguished by them.[44]\n\n[Footnote 44: The earth at that distance must appear only three seconds\nand a half in diameter, as the planet Herschel does to us; but our\nnearness to the sun necessarily prevents them from seeing us at all.]\n\nWe can only hope that in Jupiter there may be some astronomers who,\nafter taking great pains to compose very excellent telescopes, and\navailing themselves of the finest nights for making their observations,\nmay at length discover a very little planet which they had never seen\nbefore. At first the learned give an account of it in their journal;\nthe rest of the people either hear nothing about it, or laugh at\nit when they do; the philosophers are discouraged and resolve not\nto mention it again, and but a few of the inhabitants who are more\nreasonable than the others will admit the idea. By and by they examine\nagain; they see the little planet a second time; they are then assured\nof its reality, and even begin to think it has a motion round the sun.\nAfter observing it a thousand times, they find out that this revolution\nis performed in a year: and at last, when the learned have been at\ngreat pains to investigate the subject, the inhabitants of Jupiter know\nthat our world is in the universe. The curious eagerly look through\ntheir telescopes, and with all their looking, can scarcely discern it.\n\nWere it not disagreeable, said she, to know that from Jupiter we can\nonly be seen through telescopes, I should amuse myself with the idea\nof all the glasses being pointed towards the earth as ours are towards\nhim, and the mutual curiosity with which the two planets examine each\nother, and enquire, _What world is that? What sort of people inhabit\nit?_\n\nYour imagination is too rapid, I replied; when the astronomers\nof Jupiter become acquainted with our earth, they do not become\nacquainted with us: they will not suspect the possibility of its being\ninhabited; if any one should venture to express such an idea, how they\nwould laugh at him! Perhaps they would even persecute any philosopher\nwho should maintain the opinion. After all I think the inhabitants of\nJupiter are too much occupied in making discoveries on their own globe,\nto concern themselves about us. Jupiter is of such extent, that if\nthey are adepts in navigation their Christopher Columbus must be fully\nemployed. The inhabitants cannot know, even by reputation, a hundredth\npart of the other inhabitants. In Mercury, on the contrary, they are\nall neighbours, living familiarly together, and hardly considering the\ntour of their world more than a pleasant walk. If we are not visible\nto Jupiter, much less can Venus be so, who is at a still greater\ndistance;[45] and Mercury must be most out of its reach of all, being\nthe smallest, and the most distant. However, the inhabitants can see\nMars, their own four satellites, and Saturn with all his moons. Surely\nthen they have planets enough to perplex their astronomers; nature, in\nkindness, has hid from them the rest.\n\n[Footnote 45: Venus is not farther from Jupiter, but more concealed by\nthe rays of the sun.]\n\nWhat! cried the Marchioness; do you consider it a kindness? Without\ndoubt, answered I. This great vortex contains sixteen planets; nature\nto spare us the trouble of studying the motions of so many, let us see\nbut seven: is not that a favour? But not feeling the value of this\nmark of consideration, we have, with great pains, discovered the other\nnine, which had been concealed from us: our curiosity brings its own\npunishment in the laborious study which astronomy now requires.\n\nI see, she replied, by the number of planets you mention, that Saturn\nmust have five moons.[46] You are right, said I; and it is but just\nthat he should have so many, as he is thirty years in going round the\nsun; and in some parts the nights last fifteen years, for the same\nreason that on our globe, which turns in a year, there are nights,\nbeneath the poles of six months' duration. But Saturn, being at twice\nthe distance that Jupiter is from the sun, consequently ten times\nfarther than the earth; his five moons, faintly as they are illumined,\nwould not give sufficient light during his nights, he has therefore a\nwonderful resource, the only one of the kind we have discovered in the\nuniverse: 'tis a large circle or ring[47] which environs the planet,\nand which, being sufficiently elevated to escape almost entirely the\nshadow of Saturn, reflects the sun's light on the darkened parts, and\nreflects it more strongly than all the five moons, because it is not so\nhigh as the lowest of them.\n\n[Footnote 46: He has seven, and Herschel six. In all there are\ntwenty-five planets, without reckoning ninety-one comets known in 1800.]\n\n[Footnote 47: Its exterior diameter is sixty seven thousand seven\nhundred leagues.]\n\nReally, said the Marchioness, with an air of deep reflection and\nastonishment, all this is managed with wonderful order; nature had\ncertainly in these instances a view to the wants of living beings;\nthis admirable disposition of light was not the effect of chance.\nOnly the planets which are distant from the sun have been provided\nwith moons--the Earth, Jupiter, and Saturn; for Venus did not require\nany; nor Mercury who already has too much light; whose nights are\nextremely short, and probably considered a greater blessing than even\nthe days. But stop--I think Mars, who is farther from the sun than\nwe, is without a moon. We cannot conceal the fact, I replied; he\nhas none; but he doubtless has resources for the night which we are\nignorant of. You have seen phosphorus; matters of that kind, whether\nliquid or dry, receive and imbibe the light from the sun, which they\nemit with some force when in the dark. Mars perhaps has high rocks of\nphosphorus that absorb, in the day-time, light enough to irradiate the\nnight. You must own it would be an agreeable sight for the rocks to\nlight up as soon as the sun was set, and without art, produce the most\nmagnificent illuminations, that with all their radiance, would not have\nthe inconvenience of casting any heat. In America, you know, there are\nbirds which in the dark will afford light enough to read by: how can we\ntell whether Mars has not a great number of such birds, who, as soon\nas the night is come, disperse themselves on every side, and give an\nartificial day?\n\nI am not satisfied, answered she, either with your rocks or birds.\nThey would be pretty enough to be sure; but as nature has bestowed so\nmany moons on Saturn and Jupiter, it shews that moons are necessary.\nI should have been very much pleased to find that all the worlds at\na great distance from the sun had some, if Mars had not formed a\ndisagreeable exception. Ah! replied I, if you were more deeply versed\nin philosophy you must accustom yourself to see exceptions to the\nbest systems. We clearly see that some things are adapted in the most\nperfect manner to their end; others we accommodate as well as we can,\nor perhaps are obliged to content ourselves with knowing nothing about\nthem. Let us do so with respect to Mars, since our researches are\nfruitless, and resolve to say no more about him.\n\nWe should be very much surprised, were we on Saturn, to see during\nthe night a great ring, extending over our heads in a semi-circular\nform from one end of the horizon to the other; and by reflecting the\nlight of the sun, would have the effect of a moon at every part of\nthe circle. And are we not to have inhabitants in this great ring?\nsaid she, laughing. Though I am disposed to place them wherever I\ncan, answered I, I confess I dare not tell you there are any there;\nthis ring appears too irregular a dwelling. As for the five moons,\nwe can't dispense with inhabitants for them. If the ring, however,\nwere what some suppose, only a circle of moons, following each other\nvery closely, with an equal motion, and the satellites, five of these\nmoons escaped out of the ring, what numbers of worlds would the\nvortex of Saturn contain! Be that as it may, the people in Saturn are\nuncomfortable enough, even with the help of their ring. It gives then\nlight, it is true; but what sort of light, at that immense distance\nfrom the sun? The sun himself, which appears to them a hundred times\nsmaller[48] than to us, seems but a little pale star, emitting but a\nfeeble light or heat. And could they be transported to our coldest\ncountries, such as Greenland and Lapland, you would see them ready to\nexpire with the heat. If water were conveyed to their planet it would\nno longer be water, but a polished stone, and spirits of wine which\nnever freeze here, would become hard as diamond.\n\n[Footnote 48: Ten times less in diameter.]\n\nYour description of Saturn petrifies me, said the Marchioness; though\njust now you almost threw me into a fever in talking of Mercury. Two\nworlds, answered I, which are at the different extremities of an\nimmense vortex, must be totally unlike.\n\nThen, replied she, the people are very wise in Saturn, for you told me\nthey were all mad in Mercury. If they are not very wise, answered I,\nthey are at least, I suppose, very phlegmatic. Their features could not\naccommodate themselves to a smile; they require a day's consideration\nbefore they answer any question, and they would think Cato of Atica\nunmanly and frivolous.\n\nI am thinking, said she, that all the inhabitants of Saturn are slow;\nall those of Mercury are quick; amongst us some belong to the former\nclass, some to the latter; may not that be in consequence of the\nearth's being placed just in the middle situation and participating\nof both extremes? The men of our world have no determined character;\nsome are like the inhabitants of Mercury; others resemble those of\nSaturn, in short we are a compound of all the other planets. That's\na good idea, replied I; we form such a ludicrous assemblage that it\nmight easily be imagined we had been brought together from a variety of\nworlds. We are therefore very well situated for studying character, for\nthis is an abstract of all the planets.\n\nAt any rate, rejoined the Marchioness, the situation of our world has\none great convenience; the heat is not oppressive as at Mercury or\nVenus, nor the cold so benumbing as at Jupiter or Saturn. And we are in\na part of the earth that is not subject to the greatest degrees of heat\nand cold experienced even on our own globe. If a certain philosopher\nreturned thanks to his Creator for having formed him a man, and not a\nbeast; a Greek and not a Barbarian; I think we ought to be grateful\nfor being born on the most temperate planet in the universe, and in\none of the most temperate parts of that planet. You ought likewise,\nmadam, said I, to be thankful for being young, and not old; young and\nhandsome, not young and ugly; a young and handsome French woman, not\na young and handsome Italian: there are many things to excite your\ngratitude besides the temperature of your climate.\n\nAh! replied she, let us be grateful for every thing, even the vortex in\nwhich we are placed. The happiness we enjoy is but little, we must not\nlose any of it; it is well to cultivate an interest in the most common\nthings. If we are only alive to strong emotions our pleasures will be\nfew, seldom attainable, and dearly purchased. Promise me then, said\nI, that when such animated pleasures are within your reach you will\nthink of the vortices and me, and not neglect us entirely. Very well,\nsaid she: but will philosophy always afford me new enjoyments? For\nto-morrow, at least, answered I: I have the fixed stars in reserve for\nyou, which surpass all that you have yet examined.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n                           _FIFTH EVENING._\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n  EVERY FIXED STAR IS A SUN, WHICH DIFFUSES LIGHT TO ITS SURROUNDING\n                                WORLDS.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nThe Marchioness was very impatient to know what the fixed stars\nwere. Are they inhabited, like the planets? said she, or are they\nnot peopled? What can we make of them? Perhaps you would find out\nwhat they are, answered I, if you were to try. The fixed stars cannot\nbe at less distance from the earth, than twenty-seven thousand, six\nhundred and sixty times[49] the earth's distance from the sun, which\nis thirty-three millions of leagues: perhaps some astronomers would\ntell you they are farther still. The space between the Sun and Saturn,\nthe most distant planet, is only three hundred and thirty millions of\nleagues; that is but a trifle in comparison of the distance between the\nsun, or earth, and the fixed stars, in fact, we don't take the trouble\nto compute it. Their light, as you perceive, is brilliant: if they\nreceived it from the sun, it must be very faint after travelling such\nan immense journey, and by reflecting it to us it would be still more\nweakened. It would be impossible for light, which had twice gone such\na long space, to appear so bright as that of the fixed stars. They are\ntherefore luminous in their nature, or in other words, they are so many\nsuns.\n\n[Footnote 49: Or even two hundred thousand times.]\n\nDo I mistake, cried the Marchioness, or do I see your drift? Are you\nnot going to say \"the fixed stars are all suns: our sun is the centre\nof a vortex which turns around him; why should not each fixed star\nbe also the centre of a vortex, turning round it? Our sun enlightens\nplanets; why should not every fixed star likewise enlighten planets?\" I\nneed make no other answer, replied I, than Ph\u0153drus made to Enone: _thou\nhast named it_.\n\nBut, rejoined she, you are making the universe so unbounded that I feel\nlost in it; I don't know where I am, not what I'm about. What! are\nthey all vortices heaped in confusion on one another? Is every fixed\nstar the centre of a vortex, as large perhaps as ours?[50] The amazing\nspace comprehending our sun and planets is but a little portion of\nthe universe? An equal space, occupied by each of these vortices? The\nthought is fearful; overwhelming! For my part, said I, I think it very\npleasing. Were the sky only a blue arch to which the stars were fixed,\nthe universe would seem narrow and confined; there would not be room to\nbreathe: now that we attribute an infinitely greater extent and depth\nto this blue firmament, by dividing it into thousands of vortices, I\nseem to be more at liberty; to live in a freer air; and nature appears\nwith astonishingly encreased magnificence. Creation is boundless in\ntreasures; lavish in endowments. How grand the idea of this immense\nnumber of vortices, the middle of each occupied by a sun, encompassed\nwith planets which turn around him! The inhabitants of one of these\nnumberless vortices, on every side behold the suns of surrounding\nvortices, although the planets belonging to them are invisible, as the\nlight they receive from their suns cannot penetrate beyond their own\nvortex.\n\n[Footnote 50: That may be the case, but we have no proof that there are\nplanets turning round these stars.]\n\nYou are directing my eye, answered she, to an interminable perspective.\nI see, plainly enough, the inhabitants of the earth; then you enable\nme to discover, with somewhat less clearness, those of the moon and\nother planets contained in our vortex. After all that you require me\nto view the people that dwell in planets belonging to other vortices.\nI must confess they are so much in the back ground that with all my\nefforts they are scarcely perceptible to me. In short do they not seem\nalmost annihilated by the very expression you are obliged to make use\nof in describing them? You must call them the inhabitants of one of the\nplanets, contained in one, out of the infinity of vortices. Surely the\nvery idea of ourselves is as nothing when such a description is applied\nto us, when we are thus lost amongst millions of worlds. For my part,\nthe earth begins to diminish into such a speck, that in future I shall\nhardly consider any object worthy of eager pursuit. Surely people, who\nform unnumbered schemes of aggrandizement, who are wearing themselves\nout in following up projects of ambition, are ignorant of the vortices.\nI think my augmentation of knowledge will encrease my idleness, and\nwhen I am reproached for being indolent I shall reply, _Ah! if you\nknew the history of the fixed stars!_ Alexander could not have been\nacquainted with it, answered I; for a certain author, who believes that\nthe moon is inhabited, tells us very seriously that it was impossible\nfor Aristotle to avoid receiving so rational an opinion, (could\nAristotle be ignorant of any truth?) but that he never disclosed it for\nfear of displeasing Alexander, who would have been miserable to hear\nof a world that he could not subjugate. There would have been a still\ngreater reason for keeping the vortices of the fixed stars a secret;\nif any body in those days had known them, they would not have thought\nof ingratiating themselves with the monarch by talking of them. It is\nunfortunate that I who am acquainted with the system should not be\nable to reap any benefit from it. According to your reasoning it will\nonly be an antidote to the disquietudes of ambition; that is not my\nmalady. The weakness I am most addicted to is an excessive admiration\nof beauty, and I fear the vortices will have no power to assist me in\novercoming it. The immense number of worlds destroys the grandeur of\nthis, but it does not lessen the charms of a fine pair of eyes or a\nbeautiful mouth, _they_ retain their power in spite of all the worlds\nthat can be created.\n\nLove is a strange thing, said she, laughing; it escapes every\ncorrective; there is no system that can abate its influence. But answer\nme seriously; have you sufficient reason for believing this system? To\nme it appears to rest on an uncertain foundation. A fixed star is of a\nluminous nature like the sun, therefore you say it must, like the sun,\nbe a centre to a vortex containing planets which travel round the sun.\nNow, is that a necessary consequence?\n\nListen, madam, I replied; we are so naturally disposed to mingle the\nfollies of gallantry with our gravest discussions, that mathematical\nreasoning partakes of the nature of love. Grant ever so little to a\nlover, and presently you are forced to grant him a great deal more,\nand so on till you don't know how to stop. In like manner admit any\nprinciple a mathematician proposes, he then draws a consequence which\nyou are obliged to admit, and from that consequence another, and thus\nbefore you are aware he carries you so far that on a sudden you wonder\nwhere you have got to: these two characters always take more than you\nmean to give them. You must own that when two things are similar in all\nthat I know of them, I may reasonably think them similar in what I am\nunacquainted with in respect to them. From that principle I draw the\nconclusion of the moon being inhabited because she resembled the earth;\nand the other planets, because they resemble the moon. And because the\nfixed stars bear a resemblance to our sun, I attribute to them all that\nhe possesses. You have already made too many concessions to draw back,\nyou must go on; do it therefore with a good grace. But, said she, in\nadmitting this resemblance between the fixed stars and our sun, we must\nsuppose that the inhabitants of another great vortex see it as a little\nfixed star, visible only during their nights.\n\nThat is indisputable, I replied. Our sun is so near to us in comparison\nof the suns belonging to other vortices that his light must be\nincomparably stronger to us than to them. When he is risen we can\ndiscern no other heavenly body: so, in another vortex, another sun\neclipses ours, and permits it to appear only at night, with all the\nother suns, then visible. With them, fixed to the blue firmament, our\nsun forms a part of some imaginary figure. As to the planets that go\nround him, as they are not seen at so great a distance, they are not\nso much as thought of. Thus all the suns are daily luminaries to their\nown vortex, and nightly ones to all the other vortices. Each reigns\nalone in his own system; elsewhere, is but one of a great number.\nNevertheless, do not these worlds differ from each other in a thousand\ninstances, notwithstanding this equality? for a general resemblance\ndoes not exclude a vast number of dissimilarities.\n\nSurely, answered I: but the difficulty is to find them out. For ought\nwe know one vortex may have more planets revolving round its sun,\nanother fewer. In one there are subaltern planets, turning round\nthe principal planets; in another they may be all alike. Here they\nall collect round their sun in a circle, beyond which is an empty\nspace which extends to the neighbouring vortices; in other parts of\nthe universe they may have their orbits at the extremities of their\nvortex whilst the centre is left empty. And very likely there are some\nvortices without any planets; others, whose suns, not being in the\ncentre, have a circular revolution, carrying their planets along with\nthem; others, again, whose planets may rise and set with regard to\ntheir sun according to the change of that equilibrium which keeps them\nsuspended--What would you have more? Surely here is enough for a person\nwho has never been beyond one vortex.\n\nAll that is nothing, she replied, for the number of worlds. What you\nhave been imagining would suffice but for five or six, instead of\nmillions.\n\nIf you talk of millions now, said I, how will you count them when I\ntell you there are many more fixed stars than you discover; that with\ntelescopes an endless number are seen which are invisible to the naked\neye; and that in a single constellation, where we might before have\ncounted a dozen or fifteen, there have been found as many as we were\naccustomed to observe throughout the heavens?[51]\n\n[Footnote 51: I conclude, from a pretty accurate calculation, that we\nmay perceive a hundred millions with a telescope that has an opening of\nfour feet; I have clearly distinguished fifty thousand, and my glass is\nbut two inches and a half in diameter.]\n\nHave pity on me, cried she; I yield; you have overwhelmed me with\nworlds and vortices. Ah! said I, but I must add something more still;\nyou see that white part of the sky, called the milky-way. Can you guess\nwhat it is?--An infinity of little stars, invisible to our eyes on\naccount of their smallness, and placed so close to each other that they\nseem but a stream of light. I wish I had a telescope here to shew you\nthis cluster of worlds. In some measure, they resemble the Maldivia\nIsles, those twelve thousand little islands or banks of sand, separated\nonly by narrow canals of the sea which one might almost leap over.\nThe little vortices of the milky-way must be so close, that from one\nworld to another the people might converse or shake hands. The birds,\nat least, I think, can go from one world to another; and pigeons may\nbe taught to carry letters as they do in our Levant from one town to\nanother. These little worlds must deviate from the general rule by\nwhich the sun of any vortex effaces, at its rising, all the other suns.\nIn one of the little vortices contained in the milky-way the sun of\nthat particular vortex can hardly appear closer to its planets, or more\nbrilliant, than a hundred thousand other suns, in the neighbouring\nvortices. The sky, then, is filled with a countless quantity of fires\nalmost close to each other. When they lose sight of their own sun, they\nhave thousands still remaining; and the night is not less enlightened\nthan the day; at least the difference is so trifling that we may say\nthere is no night. The inhabitants of those worlds, accustomed as they\nare to perpetual light, would be very much astonished to hear of\nmiserable creatures who spend half their time in profound darkness;\nand who, even during the light of day, see but one sun. They would\nthink we had fallen under the displeasure of nature, and shudder at our\ncondition.\n\nI don't ask you, said the Marchioness, whether they have any moons in\nthe milky-way; they could be of no use to the principal planets, since\nthey have no nights, and besides that, move in so small a space that\nthey could not be encumbered with subaltern planets. But, continued\nshe, by multiplying worlds so liberally, you give rise to a great\ndifficulty. The vortices, of which we see the suns, touch our vortex:\nthe vortices you say are round; can so many circles touch this single\none? I can't understand how it is.\n\nIt shews a great deal of sense, answered I, to discover this\ndifficulty, and even to be unable to solve it, for it is in itself well\nfounded, and in the way you conceive it, unanswerable; therefore there\nwould be but little proof of wisdom in finding an answer to what was\nincapable of any. If our vortex were in the figure of a die, it would\nhave six flat sides, which is very far from a circle; on each of these\nsides might then be placed a vortex of the same shape. If instead of\nsix, it had twenty, fifty, or a thousand, flat sides, an equal number\nof vortices might come in contact with it, each resting against one of\nthese sides. You know the greater number of flat sides a body has, the\nnearer it approaches in form to a circle; so that a diamond cut into a\ngreat number of facets, if they were extremely small, would be nearly\nas round as a pearl of the same size. The vortices are only circular in\nthis manner. They have an amazing number of flat sides, each of which\nis close to another vortex. These sides are very unequal; some larger,\nsome smaller. The smallest correspond to those of the milky-way. If\ntwo vortices leave any space between, which must often be the case,\nnature, to make the most of the extent, fills up the vacancy by one or\ntwo, or perhaps a thousand, little vortices, which without incommoding\nany of the others, form one, two, or a thousand more systems of worlds;\nso there may be many more worlds than our vortex has sides; and I dare\nsay, though these little vortices are formed merely to fill up spare\ncorners of the universe that would otherwise have been useless; though\nthey may be overlooked by the neighbouring vortices, yet they are\nquite satisfied with themselves. It is probably such little vortices\nwhose suns we cannot discover without telescopes, of which there is\na prodigious number. In short all these vortices are adjusted in the\nbest order imaginable; and as each of them must turn round its sun\nwithout changing place, it is formed to move in the most easy and\ncommodious manner for that purpose. They, as it were, catch hold of\neach other, like the wheels of a watch, and mutually assist the motion.\nIt is likewise true that in a sense they counteract one another: each\nvortex if it had no external pressure would extend itself; but when\nit attempts to swell it is repelled by the surrounding vortices,\nwhich forces it to shrink back; then it extends again, and so on:[52]\nsome philosophers think that the fixed stars give such a sparkling,\nintermittent light in consequence of this alternate expansion and\ncontraction of the vortices.\n\n[Footnote 52: The preservation of the starry system is more\nsatisfactorily explained by attraction; they are all kept in\nequilibrium by their mutual attraction.]\n\nThere is something agreeable, said the Marchioness, in the idea of\nsuch a combat among the worlds, and the reciprocal emission of light\nproduced by it, which apparently is the only communication carried on\nbetween them.\n\nNo, no, I replied, that is not the only one. The neighbouring worlds\nsometimes send us visitors, who come, in a very magnificent style.\nThese visitors are comets,[53] ornamented with brilliant flowing hair,\na venerable beard, or a majestic train.\n\n[Footnote 53: It is indisputably proved that the comets belong to our\nsolar system.]\n\nAh! what ambassadors? said she, laughing. We could dispense with their\ncompany, for they only frighten us. They only frighten children,\nanswered I, because their appearance is extraordinary; but there are\nmany children among us. The comets are merely planets, belonging to\nanother system. Their orbit was towards the extremity of their vortex,\nwhich was perhaps differently compressed by those that surrounded it;\nthe lower side, on that account was flatter than the top, and the lower\nside was next to us. These planets, beginning at the upper part to form\ntheir circle, did not foresee that it would extend beyond the limit of\ntheir vortex, at the lower part; in order, therefore, to continue their\ncircular journey, they were obliged to enter the extremities of the\nnext vortex, which we will suppose is ours. They always appear to us\nextremely elevated, moving on the other side of Saturn. Considering the\nprodigious distance of the fixed stars, there must be between Saturn\nand the extremities of our vortex a great space void of planets. Our\nenemies reproach us with the inutility of this space, but we find there\nis a use for it, as it is devoted to the service of foreign planets\nthat occasionally enter our system.\n\nI understand, said she; we don't allow them to penetrate into the heart\nof our vortex, and mix with our planets; we receive them as the Grand\nSignior receives the ambassadors that are sent to him. He does not\nhonour them with a lodging in Constantinople, but assigns them one in\nthe environs. There is another point of resemblance, I replied, between\nus and the Ottomans: they receive ambassadors without sending any in\nreturn; and we receive the comets without sending any of our planets to\nreturn their visits.\n\nFrom all these circumstances, answered she, we seem to be very proud:\nyet we should not hastily form that conclusion; these strange planets\nhave a very menacing air with their beards and trains; perhaps they are\nonly sent to insult us; ours not having so imposing an appearance would\nnot be so well calculated to inspire those worlds with awe. The tails\nand beards, I replied, are merely extraneous: the planets themselves do\nnot differ from ours; but in entering our vortex they assume the beard\nor train from a certain illumination derived from our sun. This, by the\nbye, has not been very well explained by our astronomers; however, they\nare sure it is only some sort of illumination, and they must tell us\nmore of it when they can. Then I wish, rejoined she, that our Saturn\nwould take a beard or a tail, and frighten the other vortices; then\nlaying aside his terrific appendages, return to us and perform his\nordinary functions. He would do better to stay where is, answered I.\nYou recollect I explained to you the shock produced by the repulsive\npower of each vortex: I think a poor planet must be violently shaken\nin such a situation, and the inhabitants cannot feel much the better\nfor passing through it. We think ourselves vastly unfortunate when a\ncomet makes its appearance, whereas we ought to consider the comet\nmost unfortunate. I am not inclined to pity it, said the Marchioness;\nI dare say all its inhabitants arrive here in good health, and it\nmust be extremely entertaining to them to go into a new vortex. We\nwho always remain in our own have but a dull life. If the people in a\ncomet have the sense to know the time at which they shall pass into\nour vortex, those who have already been the journey, are just before\nbusily employed in describing to the rest what they will see. Speaking\nof Saturn, they say: \"You will presently see a planet with a great ring\nround it. Then, you will discover one followed by four small planets.\"\nSome of these people, perhaps are set to watch the moment of entering\nour system: when it is arrived they cry _new sun, new sun_, as our\nsailors exclaim _land, land_.\n\nI find then, said I, it is useless to attempt raising your compassion\nfor the comets: I hope, however, you will not refuse it to the\ninhabitants of a vortex whose sun has been extinguished, and who are\nthus condemned to perpetual darkness. Suns extinguished? cried she.\nYes, undoubtedly, I replied. The ancients saw certain fixed stars\nwhich are no longer visible.[54] These suns have been deprived of their\nlight: ruin must have ensued throughout the vortex; a general mortality\non all the planets; for how could existence be maintained without the\nsun? The thought is too dreadful, said she; is it not possible to evade\nit? I'll tell you, answered I, what some very intelligent people have\nimagined. They think that the fixed stars that have disappeared are\nnot extinct, but partly darkened; that is to say, that they have one\nside obscure; the other luminous: that as they turn on themselves, they\nfirst present the light part to us, and then the dark, when that is\nthe case we cease to see them. Apparently the fifth moon belonging to\nSaturn is in this condition, for during one part of its revolution we\nentirely lose sight of it; at which time it is not most remote from the\nearth; on the contrary, it is then sometimes nearer than when visible.\nThough this moon is a planet, and therefore cannot exactly guide our\nopinion with respect to suns, yet we may suppose that a sun can be\npartly covered by fixed spots. To spare you the pain of believing the\nother opinion, we will adopt this, which is more agreeable: but I can\nonly receive it when applied to such fixed stars as have a regular\ntime for appearing and disappearing, as some have lately been observed\nto do, otherwise we cannot suppose them half suns. What must we say to\nthe stars that disappear, and do not become visible after a time that\nwould certainly have been sufficient for turning on their axis? You are\ntoo just to require me to believe that they are half suns: however I\nwill do all in my power to serve you; we will conclude that these stars\nare not extinguished, but plunged in the unfathomable depth of the sky,\nand thus become invisible; in this case the vortex would accompany its\nsun, and all go on as usual. It is true that the greatest part of the\nfixed stars have not any motion which removes them farther from us, for\nif they were not always equally distant, they would sometimes appear\nlarger, sometimes smaller; but that is not the case.\n\n[Footnote 54: In 1572 and 1604, some beautiful stars appeared to burst\ninto light, and afterwards become extinct. Astron. Art. 792.]\n\nWe will therefore suppose that some of the small vortices, being light\nand active, slip betwixt the others, and return after they have made\ntheir tour, whilst the larger systems remain immoveable. But there is\none inevitable misfortune: there are some fixed stars, which for a\nlong time are alternately visible and invisible, and at length totally\ndisappear. Half suns would re-appear at a regular time; others that\nhad retreated to an immense distance would at once disappear, and be\nconcealed for a very long time: exert therefore all your resolution,\nmadam; these stars are certainly suns which grow so dark as to be\ninvisible to us, then resume their brightness, and afterwards are\nentirely extinguished. How, exclaimed the Marchioness, can a sun, a\nsource of light, become darkened? With the greatest ease, answered I,\nif Descartes be in the right. He imagines that the spots on our sun,\nbeing impurities, or vapours, may grow thick, collect together, form\nthemselves into a mass, and continue to encrust the sun till it is\nquite hid. If, the sun is a fire connected with a solid matter, serving\nas its aliment, we are not in a better condition; the solid matter may\nbe consumed. 'Tis said we have already had a fortunate escape: the\nsun during several years, (the year, for instance, after the death\nof C\u00e6sar;) appeared very pale; owing to the encrustation which was\nbeginning to form. The sun had sufficient force to break and disperse\nit; had it continued, we should have been lost. You make me tremble,\nsaid the Marchioness. Now I know the consequences of paleness in the\nsun, instead of going to my glass every morning to see if _I_ am pale,\nI think I shall go and look whether _the sun_ is so. Take courage,\nmadam, I replied, it requires a good deal of time to ruin a system\nof worlds. But, answered she, it seems as if time would inevitably\neffect it. I cannot take upon me to deny it, said I. The immense mass\nof matter which composes the universe is in continual motion, even\nthe smallest particles of it, and since there is this motion we are in\ndanger, for changes must happen, either slowly or rapidly, but always\nin a time proportioned to the effect. The ancients were so vastly\nwise as to imagine the heavenly bodies were of such a nature as never\nto alter, because they had not observed any alteration in them. Had\nthey leisure to assure themselves of this by experience? Compared\nwith us the ancients were young: if flowers that last but a day were\nto transmit their histories to each other, the first would draw the\nresemblance of their gardener in a certain way; after fifteen thousand\nages of these flowers had elapsed, others would still describe him in\nthe same manner. They would say; \"We have always had the same gardener,\nthe memoirs composed by our ancestors prove this to be the case; all\ntheir representations exactly apply to him; surely he is not mortal\nlike us; no change will ever take place in him.\" Would the reasoning\nof these flowers be conclusive?--it would have a better foundation\nthan that of the ancients respecting the celestial bodies; and had\nthere never to this day been observed any change in the heavens, though\nthey should appear likely to remain much longer without alteration,\nI would not yet decide on them; I should think more experience\nnecessary. Should the term of our existence, which is but a moment,\nbe the measure for other durations? Ought we to assert that what has\nlasted a hundred thousand times longer than we, must last for ever?\nNo, ages on ages of our duration would scarcely be any indication of\nimmortality. Truly, said the Marchioness, I think these worlds can\nhave no pretensions to it. I shall not do them the honour to compare\nthem with the gardener who outlives so many transient flowers; they\nare but as those flowers themselves, springing up and fading away, one\nafter another: for I suppose, if old stars disappear, new ones become\nvisible; the species cannot otherwise be continued. Yes, answered I, we\nneed not fear the extinction of the species. Some will tell you these\nnew stars are only suns which re-approach us after having been for a\nlong time at a distant part of the heavens. Others think they are suns\nthat have broken through the crust that began to cover them. I easily\nconceive the possibility of all this; but I think it equally possible\nfor new suns to be created. Why should not the matter that is fit to\ncompose a sun, after having been dispersed in various places, be at\nlength gathered together in one spot and then become the foundation of\na new system of worlds? I am the more inclined to this opinion because\nit answers better to the grand idea I entertain of the works of nature.\nHas she no way of producing and destroying plants and animals but by\na continual revolution? I am persuaded, and I doubt not that by this\ntime you are so too, that she exerts the same power with respect to the\nworlds. But on such subjects we can only form conjectures. The fact is\nthat for nearly a century past, in which, by the help of telescopes,\nalmost a new heaven has been discovered, unknown to the ancients, there\nhave been few of the constellations in which some sensible alteration\nhas not taken place;[55] the greatest number of changes is observed in\nthe milky-way, as if more motion and bustle existed among this heap of\nworlds. Really, said the Marchioness, I find the worlds, in short all\nthe heavenly bodies, so liable to change that I have quite overcome the\nhorror I felt at the idea of the suns being extinguished. Well, replied\nI, to prevent you from relapsing, we will say no more about them, we\nare arrived at the uppermost part of the heavens, and to inform you\nwhether there are any stars beyond that, exceeds my skill. You may\nplace more worlds or not; just as you are disposed. These invisible\ncountries should, in propriety, be left to the philosophers: they may\nimagine them to exist, or not exist, or to exist in any way they chuse.\nI shall content myself with having directed your mind to all that is\ndiscernible by your sight.\n\n[Footnote 55: This is not proved.]\n\nAh! she exclaimed, then I am acquainted with the whole system of the\nuniverse! how learned I am! Yes, said I, you are learned enough in all\nreason, and your knowledge is attended with this convenience,--you may\nextract your belief of all I have told you whenever you think proper. I\nonly ask as a reward for my trouble, that whenever you see the sun, the\nsky, and the stars, you will think on me.[56]\n\n[Footnote 56: As I have given these conversations to the public, I\nthink it would not be right to conceal any thing which passed on the\nsubject I shall publish another dialogue of the same kind that we had\na long while after these. It shall be entitled the \"Sixth Evening,\" as\nthe rest were evening scenes.]\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n                           _SIXTH EVENING._\n\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n            ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS IN CONFIRMATION OF THOSE IN\n            THE PRECEDING CONVERSATIONS.--DISCOVERIES THAT\n                 HAVE BEEN LATELY MADE IN THE HEAVENS.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nFor a long time the Marchioness and I said nothing about the plurality\nof worlds, we had apparently forgotten that we had ever talked on the\nsubject. I went one day to her house, and just as I entered, two men\nof some talents and celebrity were going out. You see, said she, what\nvisitors I have had; I assure you they are gone away with a suspicion\nthat you have turned my brain. I should be very proud of such an\nachievement answered I; it would shew my power, for I think one could\nnot devise a more difficult undertaking. Well, replied she, I am afraid\nyou have accomplished it. I don't know how it happened, but whilst my\ntwo friends, whom you met at the door, were here, the conversation\nturned on the plurality of worlds; perhaps they had an invidious\ndesign in directing it to that subject. I immediately told them all\nthe planets were inhabited. One of them said he was certain I could\nnot be of that opinion: in the most unaffected manner, I maintained my\nsincerity; he continued to think I was only feigning, and I believe he\nhad too great a regard for me to admit the possibility of my having\nreally adopted so extravagant an opinion. The other, from esteeming\nme less, did not doubt my veracity. Why have you made me obstinately\nadhere to sentiments which people who have the greatest friendship for\nme will not suffer themselves to believe me possessed with? But, madam,\nanswered I, why did you maintain these opinions seriously, when talking\nwith persons that I am sure would not gravely argue on any subject?\nShould we thus trifle with the inhabitants of the planets? Let us, who\nbelieve their existence, be content to remain a little select band, and\nnot disclose our mysteries to the vulgar. Vulgar! exclaimed she; do you\nreckon those two men among the vulgar? They have good understandings,\nsaid I; but they never reason. Grave reasoners, who are austere people,\nwould not hesitate to place them in that class. They however take their\nrevenge by ridiculing the reasoners. We should if possible accommodate\nourselves to persons of both characters; it would have been better to\nspeak jestingly of the planetary inhabitants to such men as your two\nfriends, since they are accustomed to pleasantry, than to enter on an\nargument, for which they have no talents. You would have retained their\ngood opinion without depriving the planets of a single inhabitant.\nWould you have meanly sacrificed the truth? answered she. Where is your\nconscience? I must own, I replied, I have not much zeal for truths of\nthis nature; I would readily forbear to maintain them if it suited my\nconvenience.\n\nThe cause which prevents people from believing the planets to be\ninhabited is, that they appear to them only bodies placed in the\nheavens to give light, instead of globes consisting of meadows and\nfruitful countries. We readily believe that meadows and fields are\ninhabited, but it is thought ridiculous to assert that mere luminous\nbodies are. 'Tis in vain that reason informs us of fields in the\nplanets; reason comes too late, the first coup-d'\u0153il has impressed\nour minds before-hand, and this impression is not willingly parted\nwith. The planets, 'tis said, are only luminous bodies; what sort of\ninhabitants then can they have? Our imaginations do not enable us to\ndistinguish their figures, therefore it is the shortest way to deny\ntheir existence. Would you require me, for the sake of establishing\nthe idea of these inhabitants, whose interest cannot be very dear to\nme, to attack all the powers of the senses and the imagination? Such\nan enterprize would demand a vast deal of courage. Men are not easily\npersuaded to see through their reason, rather than their eyes. Some\nfew persons are rational enough to believe, after a thousand proofs\nhave been given them, that the planets are worlds like ours, but they\ndo not believe it in the same way they would do, if they had not seen\nthem apparently so different; they always recur to the first idea they\nhad formed, and can never wholly divest themselves of it. These people\nseem to _condescend_ to our opinion, and only patronize it from a love\nof singularity.\n\nIs not that enough, said she; for an opinion that is merely probable?\nYou would be astonished, answered I, if I told you the word probable\nwas too modest for the occasion. Is it merely probable that Alexander\nhas been in existence? No, you consider it certain; and what is the\nground of your certainty? Is it not that you have had every proof\nthat such a subject requires, and that no circumstance leads you\nto doubt the fact? You have never seen Alexander, nor have you any\nmathematical demonstration of his existence. What would you say if\nthis were the case with respect to the inhabitants of the planets?\nWe cannot shew them to you, nor can you require us to demonstrate\ntheir being, in a mathematical way; but you have all the evidence\nthat can be desired: the entire resemblance between the planets and\nthe inhabited earth; the impossibility of imagining any other use for\nwhich they could be created; the fruitfulness and magnificence of\nnature; the attention she seems to have paid to the wants of their\ninhabitants, such as giving moons to those planets that were very\nremote from the sun, and the greatest number of moons to the most\ndistant: and it is an important consideration that every thing is on\nthat side of the question, without any objections to counterbalance\nit; you cannot for a moment doubt unless you resume the vulgar mode of\nseeing and thinking. In fact it is impossible to have more evidence,\nand evidence of a more determinate kind; how then can you treat this\nopinion as a mere probability? But do you think, said she, I can feel\nas certain that the planets are inhabited, as that Alexander has been\nin existence? By no means, I replied; for although, on the subject\nwe are speaking of we have as many proofs as in our situation we can\nreceive, yet these proofs are not numerous. I protest, exclaimed she,\nI'll renounce these planetary inhabitants, for I don't know whether\nto believe there are any or not--it is not certain, yet it is more\nthan possible--I am quite perplexed. Do not be discouraged, madam, I\nreplied. Clocks that are made in the most common manner shew the hour;\nthose only that are made with more exquisite art, indicate the minutes;\nin like manner common minds see a great difference between probability\nand absolute certainty; but it is only superior understandings that\nascertain the degrees of certainty or of probability, and who, if I\nmay use the expression, can tell the minutes as well as the hours.\nPlace the inhabitants of the planets a little below Alexander in point\nof certainty, but above a vast number of historical relations which\nare not entirely proved; I think that is their proper place. I love\norder, said she, you do me a kindness in giving arrangement to my\nideas: why did you not do this before? Because, answered I, whether you\nattribute to this idea a little more, or a little less certainty than\nit possesses is not of much consequence. I am certain you do not feel\nso assured as you ought to do of the earth's motion: are you the less\nhappy on that account? Oh! as to that opinion, I am sure I do my duty;\nyou have no right to complain of me, for I firmly believe that the\nearth turns. Yet I have not given you the most convincing proof of it,\nanswered I. You use me very ill, said she, to make one believe things\nwithout sufficient reason; am I unworthy to hear the best arguments?\nI wished to prove my opinions, I replied, by easy, entertaining\narguments; would you have had me make use of such solid, sturdy ones as\nI should have attacked a doctor with? Certainly, said she; now fancy me\na doctor, and let me have this new proof of the earth's motion.\n\nWith all my heart, answered I; it is this, and I am vastly pleased with\nit, because I think I found it out myself; but it is so good and so\nnatural that I can hardly hope to have been the inventor. I am sure\nan obstinate learned man who wished to oppose it, would be forced to\ntalk a great deal on the occasion; and that is the only way in which\na scholar can be overcome. It is evident either that all the heavenly\nbodies go round the earth in four-and-twenty hours, or the earth,\nturning on her axis, only imagines the motion in them. It is the most\nimprobable thing in the world that they should in reality go round the\nearth in that short space of time, though we are not at first aware of\nthe absurdity of such an opinion. All the planets certainly revolve\nround the sun: but these revolutions are unequal from the unequal\ndistances at which they are placed from the sun: the most remote, as\nwe might naturally suppose, take a longer time than the rest. This\norder is observed even in the satellites that go round a large planet.\nJupiter's four moons, and the five belonging to Saturn, require a\nlonger or shorter time to move round their planet according to their\ndistance from it. It is further ascertained that the planets have a\nrotation on their own axis; the time of this is likewise unequal;\nwe cannot tell the cause of such inequality, whether it depends on\nthe different size, or the degree of solidity of the planets, or on\nthe different degrees of rapidity of the vortices in which they are\nenclosed, and the liquid matter by which they are carried along;[57]\nthis inequality however is certain, and in general we find that the\norder of nature is such as to admit of particular variations in things\nthat are regulated by the same rules.\n\n[Footnote 57: We can assign no reason; the irregularity depends on the\noriginal cause, whatever that cause may be, which at first determined\ntheir motions.]\n\nI understand, said the Marchioness; I am quite of your opinion; if\nthe planets moved round the earth, the time employed by each would be\ndifferent, according to their various distances, as is the case in\ntheir revolutions round the sun: is not that what you mean? Precisely\nso, madam, answered I; their unequal distances from the earth would\nproduce an inequality in their revolutions round her: and the fixed\nstars, being so extremely remote from us, so far beyond all that could\nhave a general movement round us, at least situated in a place where\nsuch a motion must be very feeble, is there any probability of their\nrevolving round us in four-and-twenty hours, like the moon which is so\nnear to us? Ought not the comets likewise which do not belong to our\nvortex, which have such irregular courses, and such different degrees\nof swiftness, to be exempted from performing this daily circle round\nour world? No, planets, fixed stars, and comets too, must all turn\nround the earth! Were there but a few minutes difference in the time\nof their revolutions we might be satisfied with it; but they are all\nexactly equal, never varying in the slightest degree; surely this is a\nsuspicious circumstance.\n\nOh! replied the Marchioness, I could venture to say this exactitude\nexisted only in our imaginations. I am glad that any thing inconsistent\nwith the genius of nature, which this equality in so many moving bodies\nwould be, should depend on our motion, and she, even at our expense, be\nfree from the charge of inconsistency. For my part, said I, I dislike\na perfect regularity, and I don't approve of the earth's turning every\nday on her axis in exactly twenty-four hours; I am disposed to think\nthe time varies. Varies! she exclaimed; do not our clocks shew that it\nis always equal? Oh! replied I, I don't depend on clocks, they cannot\nalways be perfectly right; and should they be so, and sometimes shew\nthat the earth has made a longer or shorter tour in four-and-twenty\nhours than usual, it would be thought that we ought rather to suspect\nthem of being wrong than to attribute any irregularity to the\nrevolutions of the earth. That is paying an extravagant respect to her,\nI should depend no more on the earth than on a clock; the one might be\nput out of sorts almost by the same causes as the other, only I think\nit would take longer time to produce a sensible irregularity in the\nearth; that is the only advantage I should allow her to have over a\nclock. Might not the earth by degrees get nearer to the sun, and then,\nfinding herself in a situation where the matter was agitated with\ngreater violence, perform her motion on her axis, and her revolution\nround the sun, in a shorter time? In that case the years would be\nshorter, and the days too, but we should not perceive the difference,\nfor we should still divide the year into three hundred and sixty-five\ndays, and the days into twenty-four hours. So that without living\nlonger than we do now, we should live a greater number of years: and\non the contrary, if the earth were to remove farther from the sun,\nwe should live fewer years, although our lives would be as long. In\nall probability, said she, if that were possible, a long succession\nof ages would make but a trifling difference. True, I replied; nature\ndoes nothing abruptly, her method is to effect every alteration by such\ngentle gradations that it is scarcely perceptible to us. We hardly\nobserve even the changes of seasons; others that are produced much more\nslowly must in general escape our notice. Nevertheless every thing is\nsubject to mutability; even a certain lady who has been seen, through\ntelescopes, in the moon for about forty years, appears considerably\nolder. She used to be rather handsome; now her cheeks are fallen away,\nher nose and chin are beginning to meet; in short all her charms are\nfled, and it is even feared that her life is near its close.[58]\n\n[Footnote 58: We are not assured that this alteration has taken place\nin the part of the moon that has some resemblance to a woman's head:\nbut there must be changes, if we judge by the volcano which has been\nrepeatedly observed. Astron. Art. 3339.]\n\nWhat are you talking of? cried the Marchioness. I am not jesting,\nI replied. A figure has been observed in the moon which resembled\na woman's head rising from among the rocks, and in that part an\nalteration is perceived. Some pieces have fallen off a mountain, and\nleft the points which appear like the forehead, nose and chin of an\nold woman. Does it not seem, said she, as if some malignant power had\na spite against beauty, since the young lady's head is the only spot\nin the moon that has undergone a change. Perhaps, answered I, to make\namends, the alterations on our globe may give additional beauty to some\nface observed by the inhabitants of the moon, I mean some face formed\nlike those of the people in that planet, for we always try to discover\nin distant objects, the resemblance of what we continually think of.\nOur astronomers discern young ladies' faces in the moon; probably if\nwomen were to examine it they would find handsome male faces. If _I_ to\nlook, I don't know whether I should not see your likeness, madam. I\nmust undoubtedly, said she, feel myself obliged to any body who could\nfind me there; but let us return to what we were talking of just now;\nare there any considerable alterations on the earth? In all probability\nthere are, answered I. Many high mountains, at a great distance from\nthe sea, have on them beds of shells, which shew that they were\nformerly covered with water. Sometimes likewise, at a distance from\nthe sea, are found stones containing petrified fishes. How could they\nhave got to that place unless the water had been there? Fables tell\nus, that Hercules separated with his hands two mountains called Calpe\nand Abila, which being situated between Africa and Spain obstructed\nthe ocean; and the sea immediately rushed in violently, and formed the\ngreat gulph that we call the Mediterranean. Fables are not altogether\nfabulous; they are histories of remote periods, disguised by two very\nancient and common defects; ignorance, and a love of the marvellous.\nIt is not very credible that Hercules separated the two mountains with\nhis hands; but I can easily believe that in the time of some Hercules,\n(for there have been fifty), the ocean may have torn asunder, perhaps\nwith the assistance of an earthquake, two mountains more feeble than\nthe rest and have by that means rushed in between Europe and Africa.\nThen a new spot was discovered on our globe, by the people in the\nmoon, for you recollect, madam, that the water forms a dark spot. It\nis the general opinion that Sicily has been separated from Italy, and\nCyprus from Syria: new islands have sometimes been formed in the sea;\nearthquakes have ingulfed some mountains, and produced others, as well\nas changed the course of rivers. Philosophers give us reason to fear\nthat the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, being over great subterranean\nvaults filled with sulphur, will some time or other fall in, when the\nvaults are no longer strong enough to resist the fires contained in\nthem, which now have vent at such openings as Vesuvius and \u00c6tna. All\nthis will be sufficient to diversify a little the appearance we make to\nthe inhabitants of the moon.\n\nI would rather tire them said the Marchioness, with a monotonous\nappearance, than entertain them by the ruin of provinces.\n\nThat is nothing, answered I, to what takes place in Jupiter. He appears\nto be surrounded with belts, which are distinguished from each other,\nor from the spaces betwixt them, by their different degrees of light.\nThese are land and seas--or at least parts of the planet differing in\ntheir nature. Sometimes these lands grow narrower, sometimes wider. New\nones are formed in various parts, and some of the old ones disappear:\nand all these changes visible only through our best telescopes, are in\nthemselves much more considerable than if our ocean were to inundate\nall the land, and leave its own bed to form new continents. Unless the\ninhabitants of Jupiter are amphibious, and live with equal ease either\non land or in water, I hardly know what can become of them.[59] We see\nlikewise great alterations on the surface of Mars, even from one month\nto another. In that short time seas overflow large continents, and\nretire by a flux and reflux a thousand times more violent than ours;\nor if this be not the case, some change equivalent to it takes place.\nOur planet is very quiet compared with these; we have great reason\nto congratulate ourselves, especially if it is true that in Jupiter\ncountries as extensive as Europe have been set on fire. Set on fire!\ncried the Marchioness; that would be a great piece of news there. It\nwould indeed, answered I. We have observed in Jupiter, for perhaps\ntwenty years, a long stream of light more brilliant than the rest of\nthe planet.[60] We have had deluges here, but very seldom; perhaps\nin Jupiter they have now and then a large conflagration as well as\nfrequent deluges. But be that as it may, the brilliant light I spoke\nof is very different from another, which apparently is as old as the\nworld, though it has but lately been discovered.[61] How can a light be\nformed for concealment? said she, that is something quite out of the\ncommon way.\n\n[Footnote 59: These lands surrounding Jupiter, which are sometimes few,\nand sometimes in great numbers, are apparently clouds.]\n\n[Footnote 60: I don't know that this observation is authentic.]\n\n[Footnote 61: The zodiacal light. Astron. Art. 844.]\n\nThis light, I replied, is only visible at twilight, which is most\nfrequently long enough, and of sufficient power to conceal it; and\nwhen it is not hid by the twilight, either the vapours of the horizon\nprevent us from seeing it, or without great attention we may even\nmistake it for twilight. However, about thirty years since it was\ndiscovered with certainty, and for some time gave great delight to the\nastronomers, whose curiosity wanted stimulating by something new. They\nmight find as many new subaltern planets as they chose without feeling\nany interest in them. The two last moons of Saturn, for instance, did\nnot enrapture them as Jupiter's satellites had done; custom destroys\nthe power of every thing.\n\nWe see, during a month before and after the equinox of March, when\nthe sun is set and the twilight disappeared, a sort of whitish light\nresembling the tail of a comet. It is seen before the dawn and\nsun-rise, towards the equinox of September, and morning and night\ntowards the winter solstice. At other times, as I have before said,\nthe twilight conceals it; for we have reason to believe it always\nexists. It has lately been conjectured that it is produced by a large\nmass of matter, somewhat dense, which environs the sun for a certain\nextent. The greatest part of his rays penetrate this covering, and come\nto us in a straight line; but some of these rays by striking against\nthe internal surface are reflected back to us, either before the\ndirect rays can reach us in the morning, or after they have ceased to\nenlighten us in the evening. As these reflected rays come from a higher\nregion than the direct ones, it is therefore earlier when we receive\nthem, and later before we lose them.\n\nOn this ground I must retract what I said on the probability of the\nmoon having no twilight, for want of a surrounding atmosphere as dense\nas that of the earth. She is no loser by it, if she can receive a\ntwilight through this thick air which surrounds the sun, and reflects\nhis light to places which could not have his direct rays. Then,\nenquired the Marchioness, will not this be a source of twilight to all\nthe planets, without the necessity of a dense atmosphere to environ\neach, since that which surrounds the sun may produce the same effect\nfor all the planets in the vortex? From the frugality of nature, I\nam disposed to believe she has effected the purpose by this means\nonly. Yet, said I, in spite of this frugality, the earth would have\ntwo causes of twilight, one of which (the dense air before the sun),\nwould be useless, and could only serve as an object of curiosity to\nthe frequenters of the observatory: but it may be that the earth alone\nsends out exhalations sufficiently gross to produce twilight; and\ntherefore a general resource has been provided for the other planets,\nif their evaporations are more pure and subtile. We, perhaps, of the\ninhabitants of all the worlds in our vortex breathe the grossest air;\ndid the people of the other planets know that, with what contempt they\nwould survey us!\n\nThat would be wrong, answered the Marchioness; we are not contemptible\nfor being surrounded by a thick atmosphere since the sun himself is\nin the same situation. Tell me, is not this air produced by certain\nvapours that you formerly told me issued from the sun; and may it\nnot be to moderate the power of the first rays which perhaps would\notherwise be excessive? I think it probable that the sun may be thus\nveiled, to accommodate it to our use. That is a happy idea, madam, said\nI; you have founded a pretty little system. We may add that this vapour\npossibly falls back in a sort of rain to refresh the sun, in the same\nmanner as we sometimes throw water into a forge when the fire becomes\ntoo fierce. We cannot attribute too much to the power of nature; but\nall her operations are not made visible to us, therefore we cannot feel\nassured of having discovered her designs, or her manner of acting.\nWe should not consider any new discovery a certain foundation for\nreasoning on, though we are very much inclined to do it: philosophers\nare like elephants, that in walking never put one foot to the ground\ntill they feel the other firmly supported. That comparison, said she,\nis the more just because the merit either of elephants or philosophers\ndoes not consist in external charms; we shall however do well to\nimitate the superior judgment of both: inform me more of the new\ndiscoveries, and I promise not to be in a hurry again to form systems.\n\nI have told you, I replied, all the news I have heard from the sky,\nand I believe no later intelligence has been received. I am sorry it\nis not so entertaining and wonderful as some observations I read the\nother day in an abridgment of the Annals of China, written in Latin.\nThey there see a thousand stars at a time fall from the sky into the\nocean with an amazing noise; or dissolve and disperse in rain. This has\nnot merely been seen once in China; I have met with the same account\ngiven at two remote periods of time, besides that of a star which goes\ntowards the east, and bursts with the noise of a gun. It is a pity\nsuch sights should be confined to China, while this part of the world\nis never favoured with them. It is not long since all our philosophers\nthought they had had sufficient experience to pronounce the heavens\nand all the celestial bodies incorruptible and incapable of change; and\nat the same time people at the other end of the world were seeing stars\ndissolve by thousands: there appearance must have differed very much\nfrom ours. But, said she, I never heard that the Chinese were great\nastronomers. No, answered I, but the Chinese are gainers by being at\nso great a distance from us, as the Greeks and Romans were by being\nseparated by a long space of time; whatever is remote assumes the right\nof imposing on us.\n\nReally I am more and more of opinion that Europe is in possession\nof a degree of genius which has never extended to any other part of\nthe globe, at least not to any distant part. It is not perhaps able\nto diffuse itself over a great proportion of the earth at once, and\nsome invincible fatality prescribes to it very narrow bounds. Let us\nthen make use of it while it is in our possession: and let us rejoice\nthat it is not confined to science and dry speculations, but equally\nextended to objects of taste, in which I doubt whether any people can\nequal us. Such, madam, are the things that should engage your attention\nand constitute your philosophy.\n\n\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                               THE END.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n              AN ELEGANT POCKET COMPANION FOR THE LADIES.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n      _New Series of the Monthly Visitor and New Family Magazine,\n          with fine Portraits and additional Embellishments._\n\n                           \u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\n\n  On the first of February, 1803, was published, price One Shilling,\n                   enriched with a fine Portrait of\n\n                        THE LATE DOCTOR HUNTER,\n\n  With valuable Particulars of his Life; also an interesting Scene in\n                       Egypt, taken by M. Denon;\n\n                                No. 9,\n\n                 Continued Monthly, of a New Series of\n\n                        _THE MONTHLY VISITOR_,\n\n                                  AND\n\n                         New Family Magazine,\n\n                         _For JANUARY, 1803_.\n\nPrinted in a neat pocket-size, and containing a valuable Collection of\ninteresting Matter in the various Branches of Literature.\n\nThe following is a List of Embellishments (with Biography) already\ngiven in the New Series.\n\n  Duke of Bedford                 |  Turkish Male and Female, &c.\n  Dr. Jenner                      |  Chinese Male and Female, &c.\n  John Locke                      |  Egyptian Male and Female, &c.\n  Lord Bacon                      |  Garnerin's Ascent and Descent\n  Miss De Camp                    |    in the Parachute\n  T. W. Coke, Esq.                |  Modern British Females\n  Madame Bonaparte                |  An Egyptian Lady, and Manner\n  Mrs. Montague                   |    of passing the River Nile\n  Parisian Male and Female in the |    on a Bundle of Rushes.\n    Costume of the Present Day    |\n\n\u2042 The above Work is recommended to the Attention of the Public in\ngeneral, but particularly to Ladies and private Families, being\ncalculated to inform the Mind on every valuable Topic, and will be\nfound a very useful Medium of Improvement to the rising Generation.\n\nThe most prominent Features in this Miscellany are Memoirs\nof illustrious Characters, with Manners and Customs of all\nNations--Anecdotes of eminent Men and Places--Original Communications\nin Prose and Poetry--Selections from the most recent Productions\nof Value--Dramatic Intelligence--and its Review of new interesting\nPublications. Nor is a Miscellany conducted on such a Plan adapted to\nthe Young alone. To Persons also who possess small Ability for the\nPurchase of Books, or have little Time for the Perusal of them, it must\nprove a valuable Accession of Knowledge, preferable by far to most\nother periodical Publications of the present Day, the Majority of which\nsell for 1s. 6d.\n\nEach Number contains 108 Pages of small but neat Letter-press,\nembellished by an elegant Portrait of the celebrated Individual, whose\nMemoirs are presented to the Reader. Also, two whole length Figures of\na Male and Female Inhabitant of some Foreign Country characteristically\ndrawn, with an Account of the Manners and Customs of the Natives.--Four\nNumbers constitute a pocket Volume. It is thus therefore capable of\nbecoming an instructive and entertaining Companion to those whose\nAttention is assiduously directed to the Improvement of their own Minds.\n\nThe _Old Series_ of this valuable Work is contained in Fifteen elegant\nPocket Volumes, enriched with upwards of Seventy Portraits of eminent\npublic Characters, price 3l. 13s. 6d. boards, or 4l. bound.\n\nPrinted for the Proprietors, by _J. Cundee_, Ivy-Lane, Paternoster-Row;\nwhere Communications (_post-paid_) are received for the _New Series_.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\n\n\n                _A new and interesting Work, entitled_\n\n                A DICTIONARY OF THE WONDERS OF NATURE.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                       _This day is Published_,\n\n      _Closely and elegantly printed in a Pocket-size, containing\n           near 500 pages of Letter-press; and enriched with\n                curious and illustrative Copper Plates,\n                          Price 5s. boards_;\n\n                                   A\n                              DICTIONARY\n                                OF THE\n                         _WONDERS OF NATURE_:\n\n                           \u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\n\n               TRANSLATED PRINCIPALLY FROM THE WORKS OF\n\n                          A. S. S. DELAFOND,\n\n                    PROFESSOR OF PHYSIC AT BOURGES.\n\n                           \u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\u2501\n\n                _Including extraordinary instances of_\n\nAbstinence; Old Age; Curiosities in the Animal Kingdom; Singular\nAntipathies; Remarkable Attachments; Extraneous Bodies; Ph\u00e6nomena\nof the Human Bones; Brains; Wonderful Caverns; Forward Children;\nExtraordinary Conformations; Remarkable Deafness; Apparent Death;\nExtraordinary Divers; Wonderful Dwarfs; Dreadful Earthquakes which\nhave happened in various parts of the World; Extraordinary Eaters;\nCurious Structure of the Eye; Instances of Fecundity; Fermentation;\nFire-damps; Subterranean Fires; Curious Fish; Wonderful Description of\nHuman Hair; Ph\u00e6nomena of Heat and Cold; Dreadful Hurricanes; Ice, and\nIce-houses described; Inundations, and the Properties of the Loadstone;\nPowers of the Imagination; History of Mutes; Northern Lights Described;\nDreadful Maladies; Meteors; Remarkable Instances of Memory; Properties\nof Mirth; Account of a Curious White Negro; Deviations from Nature;\nEffects of Phosphorus; Rains; Extraordinary Men; Remarkable Accounts of\nMonsters; Ventriloquists; Volcanoes; Thunder; Plants; Stones; Rocks;\nSleep-walkers; Petrified Bodies; Trees; Vegetation; Water-spouts; &c.\n&c. including all the remarkable\n\n                        _PH\u00c6NOMENA IN NATURE_;\n\nphilosophically, and physically explained; forming the most curious and\ninteresting Collection of the Wonders of Nature ever published; the\nwhole alphabetically arranged; with a complete Index.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n        To me be NATURE'S volume broad display'd,\n        And to peruse its all-instructive pages, my sole delight.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\u2042 Such is the interesting nature of the contents of this work, that it\nis equally calculated to entertain and instruct every class of readers.\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n                                London:\n\n                   _Printed by J. Cundee, Ivy-Lane_;\n\n      Sold by T. HURST, Paternoster-Row; and may be had of every\n                       Bookseller in the Empire.\n\n\n                            \u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\u2550\n\n\nTranscriber Note\n\nMinor typos corrected. To accommodate placement a footnote, a\nparagraph break was added on page 126.","title":"Conversations on the Plurality of Worlds","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":39928}