Part 5

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, 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.

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, 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.

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.

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

As the spots in the moon never vary, 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: 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.

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

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

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

Remember, said I, you would be very ill by the time you reached the top of our air; we are not capable of breathing it above a certain height; 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.

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, 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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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