Chapter II: Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 14: The Atlantic.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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_SECOND EVENING._

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THE MOON IS A HABITABLE GLOBE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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_THIRD EVENING._

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