THIRD EVENING.
The Marchioness wished to pursue our astronomical researches during the day; but I told her that as the moon and stars were the subjects of our whimsical conversations, they ought to be our only confidants; we therefore waited till evening, and then took our usual ramble in the park, which thus became sacred to learning.
I have a vast deal of news to tell you, said I; I yesterday told you that the moon, according to all appearances, was inhabited; but I have recollected a circumstance which would expose its inhabitants to so much danger, that I don't know whether I shall not retract my former opinion. Indeed I will not suffer you to retract it, answered she. Yesterday you prepared me to receive a visit from the inhabitants of the moon, in a few days; now you are going to refuse them a place in the creation. You shall not trifle with me in this way. You told me the moonwas inhabited; I surmounted the difficulty of believing it, and now I will continue to believe it. Softly! said I; we should give but half an assent to an opinion of this nature, and reserve the other half in case we should find the opposite idea better supported. I am not contented with words, she replied; give me facts: remember your comparison of the moon with St. Dennis. But, answered I, the moon is not so similar to the earth as St. Dennis is to Paris. The sun draws out of the earth and water exhalations, which rise to a certain height in the air, collect together, and form themselves into clouds. These clouds hover about the earth in irregular shapes, sometimes shadowing one part, and sometimes another. In viewing the earth from a distance, the appearance of its surface would continually vary, because a large space of country darkened by a cloud would appear less luminous than the other parts, and as the cloud dispersed, would resume its brightness: from this cause the spots on the earth would be seen to change their places, assume different forms, and sometimes be entirely dissipated. If, then, the moon had clouds in its atmosphere, we should observe this variety of spots; but we find them always confined to the same place, which proves that the sun raises no vapours from the moon. It is then a body incomparably more solid than the earth, and its more subtile particles easily dissipated as soonas they are put in motion by the heat. The moon, therefore must be a mass of rock and marble from which no evaporation proceeds; for exhalations so naturally arise where there is water, that we cannot admit the existence of water where they are not found. What sort of beings do you think could inhabit these barren rocks; this country without water? Ah! cried she, you forget that you have assured me the seas in the moon were distinguishable. It was a mere conjecture,[26]I replied; I am sorry to have led you astray. These dark places that have been taken for seas are probably only deep cavities: at so great a distance it is excusable if we don't always guess aright. But, said she, will your objections oblige us to conclude that the moon has no inhabitants? By no means, answered I, we will neither decide one way or the other. I must own my weakness, she replied; I cannot bear to remain in suspense. I must believe something: enable me to determine; let us ascertain the existence of these people, or let us annihilate them at once, and think no more about them. But preserve them if possible; I have formed an attachment for them, of which I shallnot easily divest myself. I will not leave the moon without inhabitants then, said I; for your pleasure it shall be repeopled.
[26]This is not, now, even conjectured, for with a telescope we may see irregularities at the bottom of what were supposed to be seas.
[26]This is not, now, even conjectured, for with a telescope we may see irregularities at the bottom of what were supposed to be seas.
As the spots in the moon never vary,[27]we certainly, cannot believe that there are any surrounding clouds which successively obscure the surrounding parts; this however is not a proof that there are no exhalations; our clouds are formed of vapours, which at their first rising out of the earth, were in separate particles, too small to be visible to us; in ascending they meet with a degree of cold that condenses, and unites them into conspicuous forms; after which they float in the air till they dissolve in rain. But these exhalations frequently remain dispersed and imperceptible, and fall back on the ground in gentle dews. I suppose then that vapours of this kind are exhaled from the moon, for it is incredible that the moon should be a large mass, composed of parts all equally solid, all in a state of equal tranquillity, all incapable of being influenced by the action of the sun. We know of no body which has these properties, not even marble. The most dense bodies are subject to change, either from some secret and interior motion,or from the action of external matter. As the exhalations from the moon, do not form themselves into clouds, and return in showers, they can only become dew; for that purpose it is not necessary that the atmosphere, which apparently adheres to the moon as ours does to the earth, should be exactly similar to our air, nor the vapours exactly like ours; and that I think is probably the case:[28]the matter must have a different disposition in the moon, from that in the earth; consequently the effects be different; however all that is of no importance; since we find that there is motion in the parts of the moon, either internal, or produced by foreign causes, we may again people it, as we have the means of affording them subsistence; of producing fruit, corn, water, and every thing that is needful. I mean fruit, corn, &c. such as the moon can produce, the nature of which I am unacquainted with; and all these in proportion to the wants of its inhabitants, of which I am likewise ignorant.
[27]M. Herschel has observed variations in them; which he, with certainty, attributes to the industry of the inhabitants.[28]The atmosphere of the moon, if there be any, is quite invisible to us.
[27]M. Herschel has observed variations in them; which he, with certainty, attributes to the industry of the inhabitants.
[28]The atmosphere of the moon, if there be any, is quite invisible to us.
That is to say, answered the Marchioness, you are sure every thing is right, without knowing how it is; here is a little knowledge placed against a great deal of ignorance, but we must becontent with it: I am very happy to have inhabitants restored to the moon; I am glad also that you give them a surrounding atmosphere, for it seems to me that a planet would be too naked without one.
These two different airs, said I, one belonging to the earth, the other to the moon, tend to prevent the communication between the two planets. If it merely depended on the power of flying, who knows, as I yesterday said, but we may at some future time be sufficiently expert? All things considered, I think we must not expect this communication; the amazing distance at which they are placed, would be a considerable difficulty; and were this obstacle removed; were the two planets nearer together, it would be impossible to pass from one atmosphere to the other. Water is the atmosphere of fishes; they never pass into that of birds, nor the birds into theirs: they are not prevented by the distance, but the existence of both depends on their proper element. Our air, we find, is mixed with more dense and gross vapours than that of the moon; therefore an inhabitant of that world would be drowned if he entered our atmosphere, and fall lifeless on the earth.
Oh! how glad I should be, exclaimed the Marchioness, for a shipwreck to cast a good number of them on the earth, we might then examine them at our leisure. But, I replied, ifthey were clever enough to navigate the surface of our atmosphere, and from a curiosity to examine us, should be tempted to draw us up like fishes; would that please you? Why not? answered she, laughing. I would voluntarily put myself in their nets, just for the pleasure of seeing the fishers.
Remember, said I, you would be very ill by the time you reached the top of our air; we are not capable of breathing it above a certain height;[29]it is said that at the summit of some mountains we can scarcely do it. I wonder that people who are silly enough to believe that corporeal genii inhabit the purest regions of the air, should not tell us, as the reason for our receiving such short and unfrequent visits from these genii, that few of them understand diving, and even those who excel in it cannot remain long in our gross air.
[29]Respiration is difficult at the height of a league. Half a league higher it must be impossible.
[29]Respiration is difficult at the height of a league. Half a league higher it must be impossible.
We see then there are many things to prevent us from leaving our own world and going to the moon. To console ourselves let us guess all we can about it. In the first place I conjecture that the inhabitants must see the heavens, the sun and the stars of a very different colour from what they appear to us. We view those objects through a sort of glass which alters their appearance;this glass is our atmosphere, pervaded with exhalations. Some moderns assert that it is blue as well as the sea, but we can only distinguish the colour in the parts of those elements that are most remote from the eye. The firmament, say they, in which are the fixed stars, has no light in itself, and consequently ought to appear black,[30]but as we see it through our blue air, it seems to us to be blue. If that is true, the rays of the sun and stars cannot pass through the air without receiving a slight tinge from its colour, and losing a degree of that which is natural to them. But supposing the air is not coloured, it is certain that through a thick fog the light of a flambeau, seen at some distance, appears of a deep red, which is not its real colour; if therefore our air be considered only a mist, it must necessarily alter the colour of the sky, sun, and stars. The celestial fluid alone could give us light and colours in their original state. Therefore as the atmosphere of the moon differs from ours, it is either of a different colour, or else it is another sort of mist, which varies the appearance of the celestial bodies. In a word, the glass through which the people in the moon view these objects is of a different nature to ours.
[30]Desaussure tells us it appears black when viewed at a league's distance from the earth.
[30]Desaussure tells us it appears black when viewed at a league's distance from the earth.
On that account, replied the Marchioness, I prefer our world to the moon; I think it impossible for the assortment of colours presented to their sight by the heavenly bodies to be so beautiful as that they form when viewed through the medium of our air. Let us suppose a red sky and green stars; the effect is not so agreeable as golden stars and a blue sky. One would think, said I, you were chusing clothes or furniture; but believe me, nature has a good taste; let us trust to her for providing a set of colours for the moon, there is no fear but it will be a pleasing one. She has undoubtedly varied the appearance of the universe at each different point of view, and in all these varieties there is great beauty.
I acknowledge her talents, answered she; at each point of view she has placed a different sort of glass, by which mean she has given the appearance of variety to objects which remain always the same. With a blue atmosphere, we have a blue sky, and perhaps with a red atmosphere, the inhabitants of the moon have a red sky; yet this sky is absolutely the same. In like manner she seems to have placed various sorts of glasses before the eyes of our imagination, through which the same object presents to each of us a different appearance. To Alexander, the earth appeared a proper place to convert into an empire, for his sway; Celadon, viewed it only as a fit residence for Astrea; aphilosopher considers it a large planet, travelling through the heavens, and inhabited by a number of madmen. I think the spectacle of nature cannot be more varied than the prospects of different imaginations.
The varied appearance of objects viewed by the imagination, I replied, is the most surprising, for they are exactly the same things though apparently so dissimilar: whereas there may be other natural objects visible to the moon, and some that are visible to us may not be seen there; perhaps, for instance, there is neither dawn nor twilight. The air that surrounds us, rises to some height, receives the rays of light that would not reach the earth, and by its density, detains, and conveys to us a part of this light which was apparently not destined for us: thus you see the dawn and twilight are particular favours conferred on us by nature; they are degrees of light to which we are not regularly entitled, and which are bestowed on us in addition to our share. But the atmosphere of the moon, being purer than ours, is probably not so well calculated to reflect the rays which it receives before the sun is risen, or after it is set. The poor inhabitants have not then this light, which by its gradual increase prepares us so agreeably for the brilliancy of the sun; and in the evening reconciles us to its loss, by a progressive diminution. The moon, after the profound gloom ofnight, receives the ardent blaze of the sun, as if by the instantaneous drawing up of a curtain: on the contrary, whilst still enjoying the dazzling light of day, it is again plunged into extreme darkness: day and night are not connected by an agreeable medium, partaking of both. The people in the moon never see the rainbow; for as the dawn is produced by the thickness of our air and vapours, so the rainbow is formed in the clouds which are dispersed in rain; thus we are indebted for the most beautiful appearances in nature, to things, in themselves, far from agreeable. Since the moon has neither dense vapours nor rainy clouds, farewell to Aurora, and the Rainbow! Alas! to what can they liken the beauties of that country; what a source of comparison are they deprived of!
I should not much regret those comparisons, answered the Marchioness; and I think the inhabitants of the moon have ample amends made them for the loss of rainbows and twilight by being exempted from thunder and lightning; for these likewise are formed in the clouds. They have constant serenity of weather; never losing sight of the sun. They have no gloomy nights in which the stars are concealed. They are unacquainted with those storms and tempests; those elemental wars which seem to indicate the wrath of heaven. Are they then to be pitied? You speak of the moon as an enchantingspot, said I; yet I don't know whether it is very delightful to be exposed throughout a day that is as long as our fortnight[31]to a blazing sun, without a cloud to temper the intensity of its heat. It is perhaps owing to this that nature has formed cavities in the moon, large enough to be seen by our telescopes; they are not valleys situated between mountains, but hollow places in the midst of large plains. How do we know whether the inhabitants, oppressed by the perpetual radiance of the sun, may not take refuge in these caverns? Perhaps they even build towns, and constantly reside in these parts. We see that here our subterraneous Rome is larger than the Rome which is built on the surface: we have only to remove the latter, and the other would be a city such as we should find in the moon. A large number of the people dwell in each cavern, and from one cavern to another is a subterraneous passage for the communication of the inhabitants. You laugh at this idea; I have no objection: but seriously, I think you are more likely to be mistaken than I. You believe the people in the moon must dwell on the surface, because we are on the surface of our globe; you should form quite a different opinion, and thinkthat because we reside on the surface they dwell in the interior parts; every thing must be very differently conducted here and in the moon.
[31]During this time the sun rises and sets as it does in our day.
[31]During this time the sun rises and sets as it does in our day.
It does not signify, replied the Marchioness; I can't bear the idea of these people living in perpetual darkness. You would find it still more difficult to admit the opinion, said I, if you knew that a great philosopher of ancient times had informed us that the moon was the dwelling of souls who had on earth rendered themselves worthy of very exalted happiness. He supposes that their felicity consists in listening to the music of the spheres; but that when the moon comes under the shadow of the earth, they are no longer able to hear this celestial harmony, at which time they utter the most piercing cries, and the moon hastens on as fast as possible to relieve them from this agonizing situation. We may expect then, answered she, to have the virtuous spirits sent here from the moon, for I suppose they likewise honour our world by making it an abode of the blessed: so in these two planets it is thought a sufficient reward to superior goodness for the soul to be transported from one world to the other. Really, I replied, it would not be a trifling enjoyment to take a survey of different worlds; I often receive a great deal of pleasure from such a journey, although but in imagination; what must it be then to perform it in reality? It would be much more delightful thangoing from here to Japan; in other words, than crawling from one end of the earth to the other with great labour, merely for the sake of seeing men. Well, said she, let us make this tour to the planets as we can; what should prevent us? We will place ourselves at all those different points of view, and at each of them survey the universe. Have we any thing else to see in the moon? You are not yet thoroughly acquainted with that world, I replied. You recollect that the two motions of the moon, by one of which she turns on her axis, and by the other round us, being equal, the latter always prevents the former from withdrawing any part from our sight, and consequently we always view the same side. That half therefore is the only part that can see our world, and as the moon, with regard to us, must be considered not to turn on her centre, the half to which we are visible, sees us always fixed in the same part of the sky.[32]When it is night, and the nights there are as long as our fortnight, she sees at first only a very small part of the earth enlightened; then a larger portion, and at length the light seems hourly to spread over the earth, till it becomes entirely luminous. On the contrary these changes in the moon arevisible to us only from one night to another, because we are a long time without seeing her. I should like to hear the mistakes which the philosophers of that world fall into from the apparent immobility of our earth, whilst all the other heavenly bodies rise and set in the space of a fortnight. Probably they consider the earth immovable in consequence of her enormous size, being sixty times larger than the moon; and when the poets are disposed to flatter indolent princes, I have no doubt but they compare them to this orb in her state of majestic repose. It does not however appear an entire immobility. From the moon they must see the earth turn on her axis. Our Europe, Asia, America, present themselves one after another, in different shapes, nearly as they are represented on our maps. Only imagine what a novel sight this must be to travellers coming from the other side of the moon to that which is always facing us! How incredulouslytheymust have heard the accounts of the first that spoke of it, who lived at the opposite side. It is come into my head, said the Marchioness, that from that half of the moon to the other they make pilgrimages to come and examine us, and that particular honours and privileges are destined for those who have seen the great planet. At least, answered I, they who constantly see us have the privilege of being better illumined during their nights; the inhabitantsof the other side must be much less agreeably situated in that respect.
[32]That is to say only at the same distance from the zenith and the horizon.
[32]That is to say only at the same distance from the zenith and the horizon.
Now, madam, let us pursue our journey to the different planets; we have been long enough at the moon. Next, in the road from the moon to the sun, we find Venus. In talking of Venus I shall resume my argument concerning St. Dennis. Venus, as well as the moon, turns on her axis and goes round the sun: with telescopes it is seen that this planet, like the moon, is sometimes a crescent, sometimes on the decrease sometimes full, according to her different situations relatively to the earth. The moon, according to all appearances, is inhabited; why then should Venus be destitute of inhabitants? But, interrupted the Marchioness, with yourwhy notsyou will put inhabitants in all the planets. Certainly, I replied, thiswhy nothas the power of peopling them all. We find that they are of the same nature, all opaque bodies, illumined only by the sun, and the reflection of his rays on each other; and having all the same motions. So far then they are alike, and yet we are to suppose that these great planets were formed to remain uninhabited, and that such being the natural condition of them all, an exception should be made in favour of the earth—let who will believe it; I cannot. A few minutes, answered she, have wonderfully confirmed your opinion. Just now the moon was on the point of being quitedeserted, and you cared very little about the matter, and now, if one were to presume to deny that all the planets are as full of inhabitants as the earth, I see you would be quite in a passion. It is true, said I, that in the positive fit I had just now, if you had contradicted me on the subject of these said inhabitants, I should not only have maintained their existence, but in all probability have described their formation. There are certain moments when we feel assured of a thing, and I never felt so fully persuaded of my opinion as I was then; however, though my ardour is now a little abated, I still think it would be very strange for the earth to be so well inhabited, and the other planets perfectly solitary; and numerous as we know the inhabitants of the earth to be, we do not see them all, our world contains as many species of animals that are invisible to us, as of those that we discern. From the elephant to the hand-worm we can examine them; there our sight is bounded: but after the hand-worm is an infinitude of little animals not discernible by the naked eye, and to which, in point of size, he is an elephant. With magnifying glasses, we may see a drop of water, vinegar, or any other liquor, filled with little fishes or serpents, which we should never have thought of finding there; and some philosophers suppose the taste of these liquors is produced by punctures which the little animals make in the tongue.Mix these liquors with certain things, expose them to the sun, or leave it to corrupt, and you will find new sorts of animals.
Many masses, apparently solid, contains scarcely any thing but a heap of these small animals, which in so confined a situation find room enough for their little movements. The leaf of a tree is a world, inhabited by worms imperceptibly small, to which it appears an amazing extent, having mountains and caverns, and so large that from one side of the leaf to the other the little worms have no more communication with each other than we have with the antipodes. From such considerations I cannot doubt of a great planet being inhabited. There have been found even in very hard stones an endless number of worms lodged in every interstice, feeding on parts of the stone. Consider the countless numbers of these little beings, and how many years they could subsist on a quantity of food as big as a grain of sand; and then though the moon should be but a mass of rock, we may let it be eaten by its inhabitants rather than not assign any to it. In short every thing is animated; every thing is full of life. Associate in your calculation all the species that have been lately discovered, and those that we may suppose are yet undiscovered, with all that we are in the habit of seeing, and you will surely confess that the earth is amply stocked with living creatures; that nature mustdelight in bestowing life since she has created such infinite variety of beings so small as to elude our sight. Can you believe that after the earth has been thus made to abound with life, the rest of the planets have not a living creature in them?
My reason is convinced, answered the Marchioness; but my imagination is overwhelmed with such an infinite variety and number of inhabitants existing in each of the planets; for as there is no dull uniformity in nature, the difference of species must be in proportion to the number of beings—how can imagination grasp such a vast idea? Imagination, I replied, is not required to represent all this to us; we can penetrate no farther than we are assisted by our sight; we can only perceive, from a general glance, that nature has established an inconceivable diversity in her works. The human face is formed every where on the same plan, but still how great is the difference between the visages of Europeans and of Africans or Tartars: not only in separate nations do we find a distinguishing character of countenance, even among the same people every family seems formed from a distinct model. How astonishing is the power of nature in giving such variety to so simple an object! In the universe we are but as a little family whose faces resemble each other; the next planet contains another family who have a differentstyle of countenance. Probably the variations are greater in proportion to the distance, and could we compare the inhabitants of the earth and moon, we should easily see that they were nearer neighbours than those of the earth and of Saturn. Here, for instance, our thoughts are made vocal; the people in another planet only express themselves by gestures; farther off, they may dispense with any sort of conversation. Here our reason is matured by experience; elsewhere experience may add little to the understanding; at a greater distance, children may know as much as old men. In this world we give ourselves more uneasiness about the future than the past; on another globe, the past afflicts more than the future; on a third, the people are neither distressed by one nor the other, and they perhaps are not the most unhappy. It is said that we are possibly in want of a sixth sense belonging to our nature, by means of which our knowledge would be greatly augmented. This sense is most likely in some other world, where one of our five is wanting. There may even be a very great number of natural senses, but in the distribution of them among the planets, only five have fallen to our share, and with these five we remain satisfied because we don't know of any more. Our sciences have certain limits which no human understanding has exceeded: at a particular point we stop, the rest is reservedfor other worlds, where they are ignorant of many things that we know. This planet is blest with the delightful emotions of love, but at the same time desolated by the fury of war. Another enjoys perpetual tranquillity, but with this uninterrupted peace, love is unknown, and calmness degenerates into ennui. In short whatever nature has done on a small scale, for the distribution of happiness and talents among us, she has undoubtedly performed on a more extensive plan for the benefit of the universe; at once diversifying and equalizing all.
Are you satisfied, madam, said I? Have I given your imagination room to exert itself? Do you not already see the people of different planets? No, answered she, with a sigh: all you have been saying is so vague and unsatisfactory; there is nothing in it for the mind to fix on. I want something more determined; more marked. Well then, I replied, I will not conceal any particulars that I am acquainted with: I can give you some information that you will acknowledge to be undoubted, when I tell you my authorities. Prepare to listen patiently if you please, for it is a long story.
In one of the planets, I shall not at present tell you which, there is a people that are very active, laborious and skillful. Like some of our Arabs, they live by pillage, and that is their only fault. They live together in the most harmoniousmanner, labouring incessantly and in concert, for the common good: above all their chastity is unexampled; it is true they have no great merit in it; they are all sterile; there is no difference of sex among them. But, interrupted the Marchioness, were you not aware that the author of this marvellous story wanted to make a fool of you? How could such a nation be perpetuated? No, I replied, very coolly, they did not intend to make a fool of me; all that I have told you is fact, yet the nation is perpetuated. They have a queen whose royalty consists, not in directing the business of the state, not in leading her subjects to the field of battle, but in her surprizing fecundity, she has millions of children; in short the production of them occupies the whole of her time. She has a large palace, divided into a vast number of chambers, in each of which a cradle is prepared for a little prince, and she is confined successively in all these chambers, always surrounded by her courtiers who congratulate her on the noble privilege she enjoys exclusively of her subjects.
I see, madam, that you wish to enquire who are her lovers, or, to give them a more respectable appellation, her husbands. Some of the eastern queens have seraglios of men; she apparently does the same, but she keeps it a greater secret than they; this may arise from modesty, but it is acting with little dignity. Among theseArabs who are always in action, are found a few strangers, in person very much resembling the natives of the country, though extremely different in disposition, for they are remarkably indolent; they never stir out nor engage in any business; and were not these persons kept for the pleasure of the queen, they would hardly be suffered to remain amongst so industrious a people. If, in reality, notwithstanding the smallness of their number, they are the fathers of many thousands of children, they deserve to be excused from any other employment; and it is a striking proof that this is their only function, that as soon as the queen has brought forth her ten thousand children, the Arabs kill, without mercy, the unhappy foreigners, then become useless to the state.
Have you done? enquired the Marchioness. Thank heavens! Let us now resume a little common sense, if we can. Where have you picked up this romance? What poet is the inventor of it? I again tell you, answered I, that it is no romance. All this takes place on our globe, even under our eyes.—If I must explain the mystery, these Arabs are no other than bees.
After this I gave her the natural history of bees, of which she had before scarcely ever heard more than the name. In concluding, you see, said I, that in attributing to other planets what is daily passing here, we should be accused oftelling the most extravagant falsehoods. The history of insects, in particular, is a collection of wonders. I have no doubt of it, she replied: the silk-worm alone, with which I was better acquainted than the bees, would afford abundant materials for your descriptions. A people undergoing such wonderful changes as to be totally unlike what they formerly were; at one part of their lives crawling, at another, flying: in short a thousand incredible things might be told of the character and manners of this nation.
My imagination continued the Marchioness, is beginning to work on the subject you have given me—the inhabitants of all the planets: I am conjecturing their figures; I can discern some of them very distinctly, but I don't know how to describe them to you. As to their figures, said I, I advise you to leave the formation of them to your dreams: we shall hear to-morrow what they have suggested, and whether they have been able to represent the inhabitants of any of the planets.