WE went one Evening af­ter Supper to walk in the Park, the Air was cool and refreshing, which made us sufficient amends for the exces­sive heat of the Day, and of which I find I shall be obliged to make you a Description, which I cannot well avoid, the fineness of it lead­ing me so necessarily to it.

The Moon was about an hour high, which shining through the Boughs of the Trees, made a most agreeable Mixture, and checker'd the Paths beneath with a most re­splendent white upon the green, which appeared to be black by that [Page 2] Light; there was no Cloud to be seen that could hide from us, or ob­scure the smallest of the Stars, which lookt all like pure polisht Gold, whose Luster was extreamly heigh­tened by the deep Azure Field on which they were placed: These pleasant Objects set me a thinking, and had it not been for Madam la Marquiese, I might have continued longer in that silent Contemplati­on; but the Presence of a Person of her Wit and Beauty hindered me from giving up my Thoughts intirely to the Moon and Stars. Do not you believe, Madam, said I, that the clearness of this Night exceeds the Glory of the brightest day? I confess, said she, the Day must yield to such a Night; the day which resembles a fair Beauty, which though more sparkling, is not so charming as one of a brown Complexion, who is a true Em­blem of the Night. You are very generous, Madam, said I, to give the advantage to the brown, you who [Page 3] are so admirably fair your self: Yet without dispute, day is the most beautiful thing in Nature; and most of the Heroines in Roman­ces, which are modelled after the most perfect Idea fancy can repre­sent by the most ingenious of man­kind, are generally described to be fair. But, said she, Beauty is insi­pid, if it want the pleasure and pow­er of charming; and you must ac­knowledge that the brightest day that ever you saw could never have engaged you in so agreeable an Ec­stasie, as you were just now like to have faln into by the powerful at­tractions of this Night.

I agree to what you say, Madam, said I, but I must own at the same time, that a Beauty of your com­plexion would give me another sort of transport than the finest Night with all the advantages ob­scurity can give it.

Though that were true, said she, I should not be satisfied; since those fair Beauties that so resemble the [Page 4] day, produce not those soft Effects of the other. How comes it, that Lovers who are the best Judges of what is pleasing and touching, do always address themselves to the Night, in all their Songs and Ele­gies? I told her, that they most certainly paid their acknowledg­ments to the Night; for she was ever most favourable to all their Designs. But, Sir, replied the Mar­quiese, she receives also all their Complaints, as a true Confident of all their Entrigues; from whence proceeds that? The silence and gloom of the Night, said I, inspires the restless Sigher with thoughts very passionate and languishing, which the busier day diverts a thousand little ways (though one would think the Night should charm all things to repose) and though the day affords Solitudes, dark Recesses, Groves and Grottoes, equally obscure and silent as the Night it self; yet we fansy that the Stars move with a more silent mo­tion [Page 5] than the Sun, and that all the Objects which the Heavens repre­sent to our view, are softer, and stay our sight more easily; and flatte­ring our selves that we are the only Persons at that time awake, we are vain enough to give a loose to a thousand thoughts extravagant and easing. Besides, the Scene of the Universe by day-light appears too Uniform, we beholding but one Great Luminary in an Arched Vault of Azure, of a Vast Extent, while all the Stars appear confusedly dis­persed, and disposed as it were by chance in a thousand different Fi­gures, which assists our roving Fan­cies to fall agreeably into silent thoughts. Sir, replied Madam la Marqueise, I have always felt those effects of Night you tell me of, I love the Stars, and could be hearti­ly angry with the Sun for taking them from my sight. Ah, cry'd I, I cannot forgive his taking from me the sight of all those Worlds that are there. Worlds, said she, [Page 6] what Worlds? And looking earnest­ly upon me, asked me again, what I meant? I ask your Pardon, Ma­dam, said I, I was insensibly led to this fond discovery of my weak­ness. What weakness, said she, more earnestly than before? Alass, said I, I am sorry that I must con­fess I have imagined to my self, that every Star may perchance be ano­ther World, yet I would not swear that it is so; but I will believe it to be true, because that Opinion is so pleasant to me, and gives me very diverting Idea's, which have fixed themselves delightfully in my Ima­ginations, and 'tis necessary that e­ven solid Truth should have its a­greeableness. Well, said she, since your Folly is so pleasing to you, give me a share of it; I will be­lieve whatever you please concern­ing the Stars, if I find it pleasant. Ah, Madam, said I, hastily, it is not such a Pleasure as you find in one of Mullier's Plays; it is a Pleasure that is—I know not where, in [Page 7] our Reason, and which only trans­ports the Mind. What, replied she, do you think me then incapable of all those Pleasures which entertain our Reason, and only treat the Mind? I will instantly shew you the contrary, at least as soon as you have told me what you know of your Stars. Ah, Madam, cry'd I, I shall never indure to be reproach'd with that neglect of my own hap­piness, that in a Grove at ten a Clock of the Night, I talk'd of nothing but Philosophy, to the greatest Beauty in the World; no, Madam, search for Philosophy some where else.

But 'twas in vain to put her off by Excuses, from a Novelty she was already but too much prepossest with: There was a necessity of yielding, and all I could do was to prevail with her to be secret, for the saving my Honour; but when I found my self engaged past retreat, and had a design to speak, I knew not where to begin my discourse, [Page 8] for to prove to her (who under­stood nothing of Natural Philoso­phy) that the Earth was a Planet, and all the other Planets so many Earths, and all the Stars Worlds, it was necessary for the explaining my self, to bring my Arguments a great way off; and therefore I still endeavoured to perswade her that 'twas much better to pass the time in another manner of Conversati­on, which the most reasonable Peo­ple in our Circumstances would do; but I pleaded to no Purpose, and at last to satisfie her, and give her a general Idea of Philosophy, I made use of this way of argu­ing.

All Philosophy is grounded on two Principles, that of a passionate thirst of knowledge of the Mind, and the weakness of the Organs of the Body; for if the Eye-sight were in perfection, you could as easi­ly discern there were Worlds in the Stars, as that there are Stars: On the other hand, if you were less curi­ous [Page 9] and desirous of knowledge, you would be indifferent, whether it were so or not, which indeed comes all to the same purpose; but we would gladly know more than we see, and there's the difficulty: for if we could see well and truly what we see, we should know e­nough; but we see most Objects quite otherwise than they are; so that the true Philosophers spend their time in not believing what they see, and in endeavouring to guess at the knowledge of what they see not; and in my Opinion this kind of life is not much to be envied; but I fansy still to my self that Nature is a great Scene, or Re­presentation, much like one of our Opera's; for, from the place where you sit to behold the Opera, you do not see the Stage, as really it is, Since every thing is disposed there for the representing agreeable Ob­jects to your sight, from a large di­stance, while the wheels & weights, which move and counterpoise the [Page 10] Machines are all concealed from our view; nor do we trouble our selves so much to find out how all those Motions that we see there, are performed; and it may be among so vast a number of Spectators, there is not above one Enginier in the whole Pit, that troubles himself with the consideration how those flights are managed that seem so new and so extraordinary to him, and who resolves at any rate to find out the contrivance of them; You cannot but guess, Madam, that this Enginier is not unlike a Philosopher; but that which makes the difficulty incomparably greater to Philoso­phers, is, that the Ropes, Pullies, Wheels and Weights, which give motion to the different Scenes re­presented to us by Nature, are so well hid both from our sight and understanding, that it was a long time before mankind could so much as guess at the Causes that moved the vast Frame of the Universe.

Pray, Madam, imagine to your [Page 11] self, the Ancient Philosophers be­holding one of our Opera's, such an one as Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, and many more, whose Names and Reputations make so great a noise in the World; and suppose they were to behold the flying of Pha­eton, who is carried aloft by the Winds, and that they could not discern the Ropes and Pullies, but were altogether ignorant of the contrivance of the Machine behind the Scenes, one of them would be apt to say — It is a certain Se­cret Virtue that carries up Phae­ton. Another, That Phaeton is composed of certain Numbers, which make him mount upwards. The third—That Phaeton has a certain kindness for the highest Part of the Theatre, and is uneasie when he is not there. And a fourth—That Pha­eton was not made for flying, but that he had rather fly, than leave the upper part of the Stage void: Besides a hundred other Notions, which I wonder have not intirely [Page 12] ruined the Reputation of the An­cients. In our Age Des Cartes, and some other Moderns would say— That Phaetons's flight upward is be­cause he is hoisted by Ropes, and that while he ascends, a greater weight than he descends.

And now men do not believe that any corporeal being moves it self, unless it be set on Motion, or pusht by another Body, or drawn by Ropes; nor that any heavy thing ascends or descends, without a counter-poise equal with it in weight to balance it; or that 'tis guided by Springs. And could we see Nature as it is, we should see nothing but the hinder part of the Theatre at the Opera. By what you say, said Madam la Marquiese, Philosophy is become very Mecha­nical. So very Mechanical, said I, that I am afraid men will quickly be ashamed of it; for some would have the Universe no other thing in Greeat, than a Watch is in Little; and that all things in it are order­ed [Page 13] by Regular Motion, which de­pends upon the just and equal dis­posal of its Parts; Confess the Truth, Madam, have not you had heretofore a more sublime Idea of the Universe, and have not you honoured it with a better Opini­on than it deserved? I have known several esteem it less since they be­lieved they knew it better; and for my part, said she, I esteem it more since I knew it is so like a Watch: And 'tis most surprising to me, that the course and order of Nature, how ever admirable it ap­pears to be, moves upon Princi­ples and Things that are so very easie and simple. I know not, re­plied I, who has given you so just Idea's of it, but 'tis not ordinary to have such; most People retain in their minds some false Principle or other of Admiration, wraped up in obscurity, which they adore: They admire Nature, only because they look on it as a kind of Mira­cle, which they do not understand; [Page 14] and 'tis certain that those sort of People never despise any thing, but from the moment they begin to understand it: But, Madam, I find you so well disposed to comprehend all I have to say to you, that with­out further Preface, I need only draw the Curtain, and shew you the World.

From the Earth where we are, that which we see at the greatest distance from us, is that Azure Hea­ven, or that vast Vault, where the Stars are placed as so many Golden Nails, which are called fixt, be­cause they seem to have no other motion, but that of their proper Sphere, which carries them along with it, from East to West; between the Earth and the last, or lowest Heaven▪ are hung at different heights, the Sun, the Moon, and five other Stars, which are called Planets, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Iu­piter, and Saturn. These Planets not being fixt to any one Sphere, and having unequal Motions, they [Page 15] are in different Aspects, one to an­other, and according as they are in conjunction, or at distance, they make different Figures; whereas the fixt Stars are always in the same Position, one towards ano­ther: As for Example, Charles's-Wain, or the Constellation of the Great Bear, which you see, and which consists of Seven Stars, has always been, and will still continue the same; but the Moon is some­times near the Sun, and sometimes at a great distance from it, and so through all the rest of the Planets: It was in this manner that the Ce­lestial Bodies appeared to the Anci­ent Chaldean Shepherds, whose great leisure produced these first Observations, which have since been so well improved; and upon which all Astronomy is founded: For A­stronomy had its beginning in Chal­dea, as Geometry, was invented in Egypt, where the inundations of the River Nile, having confounded and removed the Limits and the [Page 16] Land-marks of the several Possessi­ons of the Inhabitants, did prompt them to find out sure and exact Measures, by which every one might know his own Field from that of his Neighbours: So that Astronomy is the Daughter of I­dleness, Geometry is the Child of Interest; and should we inquire in­to the Original of Poetry, we should in all appearance find, that it owes its beginning to Love.

I am extreamly glad, said the Marquiese, that I have learned the Genealogy of the Sciences, and I find that I must content my self with Astronomy, Geometry, ac­cording to what you have said, re­quiring a Soul more interested in worldly Concerns, than I am, and for Poetry, 'tis most proper for those of a more Amorous Inclina­tion; but I have all the leisure and time to spare that Astronomy requires: Besides that I live now happily retired in the Fields and Groves, and lead a sort of Pastoral [Page 17] Life, so very agreeable to Astronomy. Do not deceive your self, Madam, said I; 'tis not a true Pastoral Life, to talk of Pla­nets and fix'd Stars: Be pleased to consi­der, that the Shepherds in the Story of Astroea did not pass their time in that kind of divertisement; they had business of a softer, and more agreeable Nature. Oh, said she, the Life of the Pastorals of Astraea is too dangerous: I like that of the Chal­dean Shepherds better, of whom you spoke but now: Go on with them, for I will hear nothing from you, but Chal­dean: So soon as that Order, and these Motions of the Heavens were discovered, what was the next thing to be conside­red? The next thing, said I, was, to guess how the several parts of the Universe were to be disposed and ranged in order; and that is what the Learned call, The ma­king a System: But before, Madam, I ex­plain to you the first System, be pleased to observe, that we are all naturally made like a certain Athenian Fool, of whom you have heard; who fansied that all the Ships that came into the Port of Piraa, belonged to him; for we are so vain as to believe, that all this vast Frame of Na­ture [Page 18] was destined to our use: For if a Philosopher be asked, for what all this prodigious number of fixed Stars serve (since a very few would supply the busi­ness of the whole) he will tell you gravely, that they were made to please our sight. Upon this Principle, at first, Man believed, that the Earth was immo­veably fixed in the Centre of the Uni­verse, whilst all the Celestial Bodies (made only for her) were at the pains of turn­ing continually round, to give Light to the Earth: And that it was therefore above the Earth, they placed the Moon; above the Moon, Mercury; then Venus, the Sun, Mars, Iupiter, Saturn; and above all, the Sphere of the fixed Stars: The Earth, according to this Opinion, was just in the middle of the several Cir­cles, described by the Planets; and the greater these Circles were, the further they were distant from the Earth; and by consequence, they took a longer time in compleating their round; which is certainly true. I know not, said the Mar­quiese, why you should not approve of this Order of the Universe, which seems to be so clear and intelligible; for my [Page 19] part, I am extreamly pleased and satisfied with it. Madam, said I, without Vani­ty, I have very much softned and explai­ned this System: Should I expose it to you such as it was first invented by its Author Ptolemy, or by those that have followed his Principles, it would frighten you: The motion of the Planets being irregular, they move sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes towards one side, sometimes to another; at one time near the Earth, at another far from it. The Ancients did imagine I know not how many Circles, differently interwo­ven one with another; by which they fansy'd to themselves, they understood all the irregular Phaenomena's, or Appea­rances in Nature. And the Confusion of these Circles was so great, that at that time, when men knew no better, a King of Arragon, a great Mathematician (not o­ver devout) said, That if God had call'd him to his Council when he form'd the Vniverse, he could have given him good Advice. The thought was impious, yet 'tis odd to re­flect, that the confusion of Ptolemy's Sy­stem gave an occasion for the sin of that King: The good Advice he would have [Page 20] given, was, no doubt, for surpassing these different Circles, which had so em­barrass'd the Celestial Motions; and, it may be also, with regard to the two or three superfluous Spheres, which they had plac'd above the fixed Stars. The Philosophers, to explain one kind of mo­tion of the heavenly Bodies, did fansie a Sphere of Christal above that Heaven which we see, which set the inferior Hea­ven on motion; and if any one made a new discovery of any other Motion, they immediately made a new Sphere of Chri­stal: in short, these Christalline Heavens cost them nothing. But why Spheres of Christal, said Madam la Marquiese? Would no other Substance serve? No, said I, Madam; for there was a necessity of their being transparent, that the Light might penetrate; as it was requisite for them to be solid Beams. Aristotle had found out, that Solidity was inherent in the Excellency of their Nature; and be­cause he said it, no body would adventure to question the truth of it. But there have appear'd Comets, which we know to have been vastly higher from the Earth, than was believed by the Ancients: These, [Page 21] in their course, wou'd have broke all those Christal Spheres; and indeed, must have ruined the Universe: So that there was an absolute necessity to believe the Heavens to be made of a fluid substance; at least, 'tis not to be doubted, from the observation of this, and the last Age, that Venus and Mercury move round the Sun, and not round the Earth. So that the an­cient System is not to be defended, as to this particular: But I will propose one to you, which solves all Objections, and which will put the King of Arragon out of a condition of advising; and which is so surprisingly simple and easie, that that good quality alone ought to make it pre­ferrable to all others. Methinks, said Madam la Marquiese, that your Philoso­phy is a kind of Sale▪ or Farm, where those that offer to do the Affair at the smallest Expence, are preferr'd. 'Tis ve­ry true, said I; and 'tis only by that, that we are able to guess at the Scheme, upon which Nature hath fram'd her Work: She is very saving, and will take the shor­test and cheapest way: Yet notwithstan­ding, this Frugality is accompany'd with a most surprising Magnificence, [Page 22] which shines in all she has done; but the Magnificence is in the Design, and the Oeconomy in the Execution: And in­deed, there is nothing finer than a great Design, carried on with a little Expence. But we are very apt to overturn all these Operations of Nature, by contrary Idea's: We put Oeconomy in the Design, and Magnificence in the Execution: We give her a little Design, which we make her perform with ten times a greater Charge than is needful. I shall be very glad, said she, that this System, you are to speak of, will imitate Nature so exactly; for this good Husbandry will turn to the ad­vantage of my Understanding, since by it I shall have less trouble to comprehend what you have to say. There is in this System no more unnecessary difficulties.

Know then, that a certain German, na­med Copernicus, does at one blow cut off all these different Circles, and Christalline Spheres, invented by the Ancients; de­stroying the one, and breaks the other in pieces; and being inspir'd with a Noble Astronomical Fury, takes the Earth, and hangs it at a vast distance from the Cen­tre of the World, and sets the Sun in its [Page 23] place, to whom that Honour does more properly belong; the Planets do no lon­ger turn round the Earth, nor do they any longer contain it in the Circle they describe; and if they enlighten us, it is by chance, and because they find us in their way: All things now turn round the Sun; among which, the Globe it self, to punish it for the long Rest, so falsly at­tributed to it before; and Copernicus has loaded the Earth with all those Motions, formerly attributed to the other Planets; having left this little Globe none of all the Celestial Train, save only the Moon, whose natural Course it is, to turn round the Earth. Soft and fair, said Madam la Marquiese; you are in so great a Ra­pture, and express your self with so much Pomp and Eloquence, I hardly under­stand what you mean: You place the Sun unmoveable in the Centre of the Uni­verse; Pray, what follows next? Mer­cury, said I, who turns round the Sun; so that the Sun is in the Centre of the Circle he describes: And above Mercury, Venus; who turns also round the Sun: Next comes the Earth; which being more elivated than Mercury, or Venus, [Page 24] describes a Circle of a greater Circumfe­rence that those two Planets: Last, come Mars, Iupiter and Saturn, in their order, as I have nam'd 'em: So that you see ea­sily, that Saturn ought to make the grea­test Circle round the Sun; it is therefore that Saturn takes more time to make his Revolution, than any other Planet. Ah, but, said the Marquiese, interrupting me, you forget the Moon. Do not fear, said I, Madam; I shall soon find her again. The Moon turns round the Earth, and never leaves it; and as the Earth moves in the Circle it describes round the Sun, the Moon follows the Earth in turning round it; and if the Moon do move round the Sun, it is only because she will not aban­don the Earth. I understand you, said she: I love the Moon for staying with us, when all the other Planets have left us; and you must confess, that your Ger­man Copernicus would have taken her from us too, had it been in his power; for I perceive by his procedure, he had no great kindness for the Earth. I am extreamly pleas'd with him, said I, for having humbled the Vanity of mankind, who had usurp'd the first and best Situa­tion [Page 25] in the Universe; and I am glad to see the Earth under the same Circumstan­ces with the other Planets. That's very fine, said the Marquiese: Do you believe that the Vanity of Man places it self in Astronomy; or that I am any way hum­bled, because you tell me the Earth turns round the Sun? I'll swear, I do not esteem my self one whit the less. Good Lord, Madam, said I, Do you think I can ima­gine you can be as zealous for a Prece­dency in the Universe, as you would be for that in a Chamber? No, Madam; the Rank of Place between two Planets will never make such a bustle in the World, as that of two Ambassadors: Neverthe­less, the same inclination that makes us endeavour to have the first place in a Ce­remony, prevails with a Philosopher in composing his System, to place himself in the Centre of the World, if he can: He is proud to fansie all things made for himself; and without reflexion, flatters his Senses with this Opinion, which con­sists purely in Speculation. Oh, said the Marquiese, this is a Calumny of your own invention against mankind, which ought never to have received Copernicus [Page 26] his Opinion, since so easie, and so hum­ble. Copernicus, said I, Madam, himself was the most diffident of his own System; so that it was a long time before he would venture to publish it, and at last resolv'd to do it at the earnest intreaty of People of the first Quality. But do you know what he did, the Day they brought him the first printed Copy of his Book? That he might not be troubled to answer all the Objections and Contradictions he was sure to meet with, he wisely left the World, and died. Hold, said the Mar­quiese, we ought to do Justice to all the World; and 'tis most certain, 'tis very hard to believe we turn round, since we do not change places, and that we find our selves in the Morning, where we lay down the Night before. I see very well by your Looks, what 'tis you are going to say; That since the Earth moves all together — Most certainly, said I: 'Tis the same thing as if you were asleep in a Boat, sailing on a River, you would find your self in the same place in the Morning, and in the same Situation as to the several parts of the Boat. True, said she, but with this difference; I shou'd [Page 27] at my waking, find another Shoar; and that would convince me, my Boat had chang'd its Situation: But 'tis not the same with the Earth; for there I find every thing as I left it the Night before. Not at all, Madam, said I; the Earth changes the Shoar, as well as your Boat. You know, Madam, that above and be­yond all the Circles, described by the Planets, is the Sphere of the fixed Stars; that's our Shoar: I am on the Earth, which makes a great Circle round the Sun; I look towards the Centre of this Circle, there I see the Sun; if the bright­ness of his Rays did not remove the Stars from my sight, by looking in a streight Line, I shoud easily perceive the Sun cor­responding to some fixed Star beyond him; but in the Night-time, I see clearly the Stars, to which the Sun did answer, or was opposite to, the Day before; which is, indeed, the same thing. If the Earth were immoveable, and did not alter its Situation in its own Circle, I shou'd al­ways see the Sun opposite to the same fixed Stars; but I see the Sun in different Opposition to the Stars, every Day of the Year: It most necessarily follows then, [Page 28] the Circle changes its Situation, that is, the Shoar, round which we go daily: And as the Earth performs its Revolution in a Year, I see the Sun, in that space of time, answer in direct Opposition to a whole Circle of fixed Stars; this Circle is called the Zodiack: Will you please, Ma­dam, that I trace the Figure of it on the Sand? By no means, said she; I can sa­tisfie my self, without that Demonstra­tion: Besides that, it would give a cer­tain Mathematical Air to my Park, which I do not like. Have not I heard of a certain Philosopher, who being ship­wreck'd, and cast upon an unknown Island; who seeing some Mathematical Propositions drawn on the Sea-sands, cal­led to one of those with him, and cry'd, Courage, my Friend, here are the Foot-steps of Men; this Country is inhabited? You know, it is not decent in me to make such Foot-steps, nor must they be seen in this place. 'Tis fit, continued I, Madam, that nothing be seen here, but Steps of Lovers; that is to say, your Name and Cypher engraven on the Bark of Trees by the hand of your Adorers. Pray, Sir, said she, let Adorers alone, and [Page 29] let us speak of the Sun. I understand very well, how we imagine he describes that Circle, which, indeed, we our selves describe; but this requires a whole Year's time, when one wou'd think the Sun passes over our heads every day: How comes that to pass? Have you not ob­serv'd, said I, that a Bowl thrown on the Earth, has two different Motions; it runs toward the Jack, to which it is thrown; and at the same time it turns over and over several times, before it comes that Length; so that you will see the Mark that is on the Bowl, sometimes above, and sometimes below: 'Tis just so with the Earth; in the time it advances on the Circle it makes round the Sun, in its yearly Course, it turns over once eve­ry four and twenty Hours, upon its own Axis; so that in that space of time, which is one natural Day, every point of the Earth (which is not near the South or North-Poles) loses and recovers the sight of the Sun: And as we turn towards the Sun, we imagine the Sun is rising upon us; so when we turn from it, we believe she is setting. This is very pleasant, said the Marquiese: You make the Circle to [Page 30] do all, and the Sun to stand idle; and when we see the Moon, Planets and fixed Stars turn round us in four and twenty Hours, all is but bare Imagination. No­thing else, said I, but pure Fancy, which proceeds from the same Cause; only the Planets make their Circle round the Sun, not in the same space of time, but accor­ding to their unequal distance from it; and that Planet which we see to day, look to a certain Point of the Zodiack, or Sphere of fixed Stars, we shall see it answer to every other Point to Morrow; y as well because that Planet moves on its Course, as that we proceed in ours: We move, and so do the other Planets: By this means we vary both Situation and Opposition, as to them, and we think we discover Ir­regularities in their Revolutions, which I will not now trouble you with; 'tis suffi­cient for you to know, that any thing that may appear to us to be irregular, in the Course of the Planets, is occasion'd by our own Motion meeting theirs in such different manners; but upon the whole the Course of the Planets, is most regular. I agree with all my heart, said the Marquiese; yet I wish with all my [Page 31] heart, that that Regularity were not so laborious to the Earth: I fansie Coperni­cus has not been very careful of its Con­cerns, in making so weighty and solid a Mass run about so nimbly. But, Madam, said I, wou'd you rather, that the Sun, and the Stars (which are generally far greater Bodies) shou'd make a vast Cir­cumference round the Earth in a Day, and run an infinite number of Leagues in twenty four Hours time? Which they must of necessity do, if the Earth have not that Diurnal Motion on its own Axis. Oh! answered she, the Sun and Stars are all Fire, swiftness of Motion is easie to them; but for the Earth, that does not seem to be very portable. And wou'd you believe it, said I, Madam, if you had never seen the Experiment, that a First-Rate Ship, of a hundred and twenty Guns, with fifteen hundred Men, and proportionable Provision, with all her Ammunition and Tackle a-board, were a very portable thing? Notwithstanding, a gentle Breeze will move this Ship on the Sea, because the Water is liquid, and yielding easily, makes no resistance to the motion of the Vessel: So the Earth, [Page 32] notwithstanding of as vast bulk and weight, is easily mov'd in the Celestial Matter, which is a thousand times more fluid than the Water of the Sea; and which fills all that vast Extent, where the Planets swim, as it were: And to what wou'd you fix or grapple the Earth, to hinder it from being carry'd along with the Current of this Celestial Matter or Substance? It wou'd be just as if a little wooden Ball shou'd not follow the Cur­rent of a rapid River.

But, said she, how does the Earth sup­port its vast weight, on your Heavenly Substance, which ought to be very light, since it is so fluid? That does not fol­low, answered I, Madam, that a thing must be light, because it is fluid: What say you to the First-Rate Ship, I spoke of, with all its Lading? Yet 'tis lighter than the Water, because it swims upon it. As long as you command your First-Rate Frigat, said she, angrily, I will not argue with you; but can you assure me, that I am in no danger, by inhabiting such a little Humming-Top, as you have made the World to be? Well, Madam, said I, the Earth shall be supported by four Ele­phants, [Page 33] as the Indians fansie it is. Here's a new System indeed, cry'd Madam la Mar­quiese; yet I love those Men, for provi­ding for their own security, by resting upon a solid Foundation; whereas we that follow Copernicus, are so inconside­rate, as to swim at a venture upon your Celestial Matter: And I dare say, if these Indians thought the Earth in any danger of falling, they wou'd quickly double the number of their Elephants. They wou'd have all the reason in the World to do so, said I, Madam; (laughing at her fancy;) and wou'd not spare Elephants to sleep in quiet, without fear of falling: And, Madam, we will add as many as you please to our System for this Night, and take them away by degrees, as you get more Assurance. Really, said she, I do not think they are needful at present; for I feel I have Courage sufficient to turn round. You must go a step further, said I, and you shall turn round with delight; upon this System you will form to your self very pleasant and agreeable Idea's: As for Example; Sometimes I fansie I am hanging in the Air, and that I stay there without moving, while the Earth turns [Page 34] round under me in four and twenty Hours time, and that I see beneath me all those different Faces; some white, some black, some tawny, others of an Olive-colour; first I see Hats, then Turbants, there Hands cover'd with Wool, there shav'd Heads; sometimes Towns with Steeples, some with their long small-poin­ted Pyramids, and Half-moons on their tops; sometimes Towns with Porce­lane Towers; after them, spacious Fields, without Towns, only Tents and Huts; here vast Seas, frightful Desarts; in short, all the Variety that is to be seen upon the Face of the Earth. Indeed, said she, such a sight wou'd be very well worth twenty four Hours of ones Time: So that by this System, through the same place where we now are (I do not mean this Park, but that space of Air which our Bodies fill) seve­ral other Nations must successively pass, and we return hither, in twenty four hours, to our own place again.

Copernicus himself, said I, Madam, did not understand it better. At first will be here the English, discoursing, it may be, upon some politick Design, with more Gravity, but less Pleasure, than we talk [Page 35] of our Philosophy: Next will come a vast Ocean, in which there will be sailing some Ships, perhaps not so much at their Ease as we are: Then will appear the Ca­nibals, eating some Prisoners of War alive, they seeming very unconcern'd at what they suffer: After them, the Women of the Country of Iesso, who spend all their time in preparing their Husbands Meals, and in painting their Lips and Eye-brows with Blew, to please the ugliest Fellows in the World: Next will succeed the Tar­tars, who go, with great Devotion, on Pilgrimage to that great Priest, who ne­ver comes out of an obscure place, where he has no other Light but Lamps, by which they adore him: After them, the beautiful Circassian Women, who make no difficulty of granting any Favour to the first Comer, except what they essen­tial know does belong to their Husbands: Then the Crim, or Little Tartars, who live by stealing of Wives for the Turks and Persians: And at last, our selves again, perhaps talking as we do now.

I am mightily taken, said the Marquiese, with the Fancy of what you say; but if I cou'd see all these things from above, I [Page 36] wou'd wish to have the power to hasten and stop the Motion of the Earth, accor­ding as I lik'd or dis-lik'd the several Ob­jects that pass under me; I wou'd make the Polititians, and those that eat their Enemies, to move very fast: But there are others that I shou'd be very curious to observe; and particularly, the fine Cer­cassian Women, who have one so peculiar a Custom. That is, said I, their Husbands, who finding so many Charms in their Embraces, as more than satisfie them, do freely abandon their fair Wives to Stran­gers. The Women of our Country, said the Marquiese, must be very ugly, if com­par'd to the Circassians; for our Husbands will part with nothing. That is the rea­son, said I, that the more is taken from 'em; whereas — No more of these Fooleries, said the Marquiese, interrupting me; there's a serious Difficulty come in­to my head: If the Earth turn round, then we change Air every Moment, and must breath still that of another Coun­try. By no means, Madam, said I; the Air which encompasses the Earth extends it self to a certain heighth, it may be, about twenty Leagues, and turns round [Page 37] with us. You have, no doubt, seen a thousand times the business of the Silk-worm, where the Balls which these little Creatures do work with so much Art, for their own Imprisonment, are compact, and wrought together with Silk, which is very closely join'd; but they are co­ver'd with a kind of Down, that is very light and soft: Thus it is, that the Earth, which is very solid, is wrapp'd in a Co­vering of soft Down of twenty Leagues thickness, which is the Air that is carried round at the same time with it: Above the Air is that Celestial Matter I spoke of, incomparably more pure, more sub­tile, and more agitated than the Air.

You represent the Earth to me, said the Marquiese, as a very contemptible thing, by the despicable Idea's you give me of it: 'Tis, nevertheless, upon this Silk-Worm-Ball, there are perform'd such mighty Works; and where there are such terrible Wars, and such strange Commo­tions as reign every where. 'Tis certainly true, said I, Madam; while at the same time, Nature, who is not at the pains to consider these Troubles and Commotions, carries us all along together, by a general [Page 38] Motion, and does, as it were, play with this little Globe. It seems to me, said she, that 'tis very ridiculous to inhabit any thing that turns so often, and is so much agitated; and the worst of all is, that we are not assur'd whether we turn round, or not; for, to be plain with you, and that I may keep none of my Doubts from you, I do extreamly suspect, that all the Pre-cautions you can take, will not convince me of the Motion of the Earth: For is it possible, but Nature wou'd have taken care to have given us some sensible Sign, by which we might discover the turning round of so vast a Body? The Motions (answer'd I) which are most natural to remove, are the least perceptible; and which holds true, even in Morality; for the Motion of Self-love is so natural to us, that for the most part we do not feel it, while we believe we act by other Principles. Ah, said she, do you begin to speak of Moral Philosophy, when the Question is of that which is altoge­ther natural? But I perceive you are slee­py, and begin to yawn; let us therefore retire, for there's enough said for the first Night, to morrow we shall return hither [Page 39] again; you with your Systems, and I with my Ignorance. In returning to the Castle, to make an end of what might be said to Systems, I told her, there was a third O­pinion invented by Ticho-brahe, who wou'd have the Earth absolutely immove­able, and plac'd in the Centre of the U­niverse, and made the Sun to turn round it, as he did the other Planets to turn round the Sun; because, since the new Discoveries, it cou'd not be imagin'd that the other Planets turn'd round the Earth. But my Lady Marquiese, whose Judg­ment and Understanding is solid and pe­netrating, found, there was too much Af­fectation in endeavouring to free the Earth from turning round the Sun, since several other great Bodies cou'd not be exempt from that Labour; and that the Sun was not so proper and fit to turn round the Earth, since the other Planets turn round the Sun; and that this new System was only good to maintain the standing still of the Earth, if one had a mind to undertake that Argument; but 'tis not proper to perswade another to be­lieve it. At last, we resolv'd to hold our selves to the Opinion of Copernicus, [Page 40] which is more uniform, and more agree­able, without the least mixture of Preju­dice; and, indeed, its Simplicity and Easiness perswades as much as its Bold­ness pleases.

AS soon as one could get into my La­dy Marquiese's Apartment, I sent to know how she did, and how she had slept that Night in turning round. She sent me word, that now she was pretty well accustom'd to the Motion of the Earth, and that Copernicus himself cou'd not have rested better that Night than she did. A little after this, there came Com­pany to visit my Lady, which, according to the nauseous Country-fashion, stay'd till the Evening, and yet we thought our selves happy that we were so easily rid of 'em then, since, according to the custom of the Country, they might have pro­long'd their Visit till the next Day; but they were so civil, as not to do it; so [Page 41] that Madam the Marquiese and I found our selves at liberty. In the Evening we went again to the Park, and the Conver­sation began as it ended before, of our System: My Lady Marquiese had com­prehended 'em so well, that she wou'd not be at the pains to re-assume any thing of what had pass'd, but press'd me to lead her to something that was new. Well, said I, since the Sun, which is now immo­veable, and no longer a Planet; and that the Earth, that moves round the Sun, is now one, be not surpriz'd if I tell you, the Moon is another Earth, and is, by all appearance, inhabited. Said she, I never heard of the Moon's being inhabited, but as a Fable. So it may be still, said I; I concern my self no further in these Mat­ters, than Men use to do in Civil Wars; where the Uncertainty of what may be, makes People still entertain a Correspon­dence with the adverse Party: As for me, tho' I see the Moon inhabited, I live very civilly with those that do not believe it; and I carry my self so trimmingly, that I may, upon occasion, with Honour go over to their side who have the better; but still they gain some considerable Ad­vantage [Page 42] over us. I'll tell you my Rea­sons that make me take part with the In­habitants of the Moon: Suppose then, there had never been any Commerce be­tween Paris and St. Denis, and that a Ci­tizen of Paris, who had never been out of that City, shou'd go up to the top of the Steeple of our Lady, and shou'd view St. Denis at a distance, and one shou'd ask him if he believ'd St. Denis to be inhabi­ted; he wou'd answer boldly, Not at all; for (he wou'd say) I see the Inhabitants of Paris, but I do not see those of St. De­nis, nor ever heard of 'em. It may be, some body standing by, wou'd represent to him, That it was true, one cou'd not see the Inhabitants of St. Denis from our La­dy's Church, but that the distance was the cause of it; yet that all we cou'd see of St. Denis, was very like to Paris; for St. De­nis had Steeples, Houses and Walls; and that it might resemble Paris in every thing else, and be inhabited as well as it. All these Arguments wou'd not prevail upon my Citizen; who wou'd continue still obstinate in maintaining, that St. De­nis was not inhabited, because he saw none of the People. The Moon is our [Page 43] St. Denis, and we the Citizens of Paris, that never went out of our own Town. Ah, interrupted the Marquiese, you do us wrong; we are not so foolish as your Citizens of Paris: Since he sees that St. Denis is so like to Paris in every thing, he must have lost his Reason, if he did not think it was inhabited: But for the Moon, that's nothing like the Earth. Have a care, Madam, said I, what you say; for if I make it appear, that the Moon is in eve­ry thing like the Earth, you are oblig'd to believe that the Moon is inhabited. I acknowledge, said she, if you do that, I must yield; and your Looks are so as­sur'd, that you frighten me already: The two different Motions of the Earth, which wou'd never have enter'd into my Thoughts, make me very apprehensive of all you say. But is it possible that the Earth can be an enlighten'd Body, as the Moon is? For, to resemble it, it must be so. Alas, Madam, said I, to be enlight­ned, is not so great a matter as you ima­gine, and the Sun only is remarkable for that Quality: 'tis he alone that is enlight­ned of himself, by virtue of his particular Essence; but the other Planets shine on­ly, [Page 44] as being enlightned by the Sun: The Sun communicates his Light to the Moon, which reflects it upon the Earth; as the Earth, without doubt, reflects it back again to the Moon, since the di­stance from the Moon to the Earth is the same as from the Earth to the Moon.

But, said the Marquiese, is the Earth as proper for reflecting the Light of the Sun, as the Moon? You are always for the Moon, said I, and you cannot rid your self of those Remains of Kindness you have for her. Light is compos'd for little Balls, which rebound upon any so­lid Body, which is opaque, or obscure, and are sent back another way; whereas they pass through any thing that offers them an Opening, or Passage, in a streight Line; which is Diaplanus, or clear; such as Air and Glass: So that the Moon en­lightens us, because she is an Opaque, so­lid Body, which retorts these little Balls upon us; and I believe you will not dis­pute the same Solidity to the Earth. Ad­mire then, Madam, how advantageous it is, to be well posted; so that the Moon being at a great distance from us, we see it as an enlightned Body only, but are [Page 45] ignorant that 'tis a gross, solid Mass, very much like the Earth: On the other hand, the Earth having the ill luck to be seen by us too near, we consider it only as a great massy Body, fit only for the produ­cing of Food for living Creatures. 'Tis just, said the Marquiese, as when we are struck and surpriz'd with the Splendour of Quality above our own; we do not perceive, that in the main, there's no dif­ference between them and us. 'Tis just so, said I; and we will needs be judging of every thing; but we have the mis-for­tune, still to be plac'd in a false Light: Wou'd we judge of our selves, we are too near; if of others, we are too far off: Cou'd one be plac'd between the Moon and the Earth, that wou'd be a true Sta­tion to consider both well: To this End, we ought only to be Spectators of the World, and not Inhabitants. I shall ne­ver be satisfy'd, said the Marquiese, with the Injury we do the Earth, in being too favourably engag'd for the Inhabitants of the Moon, unless you can assure me, that they are as ignorant of their Advantages, as we are of ours; and that they take our Earth for a Star, without knowing that [Page 46] the Globe they inhabit is one also. Be as­sur'd of that, Madam, said I, that the Earth appears to them to perform all the Functions of a Star: 'Tis true, they do not see the Earth describe a Circle round 'em, but that's all one; I'll explain to you what it is: That side of the Moon which was turn'd towards the Earth at the be­ginning of the World, has continu'd to­wards the Earth ever since; which still represents to us these same Eyes, Nose and Mouth, which our Imaginations fan­sie we see compos'd of these Spots, Lights and Shadows, which are the Surface of the Moon: Cou'd we see the other half of the Moon, 'tis possible our Fancy wou'd represent to us some other Figure. This does not argue, but the Moon turns how­ever upon her own Axis, and takes as much time to perform that Revolution, as she does to go round the Earth in a Month. But then, when the Moon per­forms a part of her Revolutions on her own Axis, and that she ought to hide from us (for Example) one Cheek of this imaginary Face, and appear to us in another Position, she does at the same time perform as much of the Circle she [Page 47] describes in turning round the Earth; and tho' she is in a new Point of Sight or Opposition as to us, yet she represents to us still the same Cheek: So that the Moon, in regard to the Sun, and the other Planets, turns upon her own Axis; but does not so as to the Earth.

The Inhabitants of the Moon see all the other Planets rise and set in the space of fifteen Days, but they see our Earth al­ways hanging in the same Point of the Heavens. This seeming Immovability does not very well agree with a Body that ought to pass for a Planet; but the truth is, the Earth is not in such perfection: Besides, the Moon has a certain trem­bling Quality, which does sometimes hide a little of her imaginary Face, and at other times shews a little of her opposite Side; and no doubt but the Inhabitants of the Moon attribute this shaking to the Earth, and believe we make a certain swinging in the Heavens, like the Pendu­lum of a Clock. All these Planets, said the Marquiese, are like us Mortals, who always cast our own Faults upon others: Says the Earth, It is not I that turn round, 'tis the Sun: Says the Moon, It is not I [Page 48] that tremble, 'tis the Earth: There are Errors and Mistakes every where. I wou'd not advise you, said I, to under­take to reform any of 'em; 'tis better that I make an end in convincing you, that the Moon is in all things like the Earth. Represent to your self these two great Globes, hanging in the Heavens; you know that the Sun does always en­lighten one half of any Globe, and the other half is in the Shadow; there is therefore always one half of both Moon and Earth that is enlightned, or half Day, and the other half is still in the Darkness of Night. Be pleas'd, besides, to consider that a Ball has less force and swiftness af­ter it re-bounds from a Wall, against which it was thrown, than it had before it touch'd the Wall, which sends it ano­ther way; so Light is not so strong, after 'tis reflected by any solid Body: This pale Light which comes to us from the Moon, is the Light of the Sun it self, but we have it only by Reflection from the Moon, and has lost a great deal of that Strength and Vivacity which it had when 'twas receiv'd by the Moon, directly from the Sun; and that bright and dazling [Page 49] Light which we receive from the Sun, must in the same manner appear to the Inhabitants of the Moon, after 'tis refle­cted by the Earth, on the Moon: So that the Surface of the Moon, which we see enlightned, and which shines upon us in the Night, is that half of the Moon that enjoys the Day, as that half of the Globe of the Earth which is enlightned by the Sun, when 'tis turn'd towards the dark­ned half of the Globe of the Moon, does give Light to the Inhabitants there, du­ring their Nights. All depends upon the different Opposition and Aspects between the Moon and the Earth: The first and second Day of the Moon, we do not see her, because she is betwixt the Sun and us, and moves with the Sun by our Day; it necessarily follows, that the half of the Moon which is enlightned, is turn'd to­wards the Sun, and the obscure part to­wards the Earth; 'tis no wonder then, that we cannot see that half which is dark; but that same half of the Moon which is in Darkness, being turn'd to­wards the enlightned half of the Earth, the Inhabitants see us, without being seen, and the Earth appears to them, as their [Page 50] Full-Moon does to us; and so, if one may use the Expression, 'tis with them Full-Earth. After this, the Moon going on in her Monthly Circle, dis-engages her self from the Sun, and begins to turn towards us a part of her enlightned half, which is the Crescent; at the very same time, the darkned half of the Moon loses some share of the enlightned part of the Earth, and then the Earth is in the Wain, as to its Inhabitants.

Say no more, said the Marquiese, brisk­ly, I shall know all the rest when I please; I need only think a little, and follow the Moon in her Monthly Circle: I see in general, that the Inhabitants of the Moon have their Month, the exact Reverse of ours; and I am perswaded, when 'tis Full-Moon, the enlightned half of it is turn'd towards the obscure part of the Earth, and then they do not see us, but a certain new Earth. I wou'd not have any Body reproach me with the want of so much Sence, as that you need explain so easie a thing to me. But as to the Eclipses, What is the Cause of them? If you do not understand that, said I, 'tis your own fault. When 'tis New Moon, and that [Page 51] she is between the Sun and the Earth, and that all her obscure half is turn'd to­wards us, who then enjoy the Day, you may see easily, that the Shadow of this darkned half is cast upon the Earth; if the Moon be directly under the Sun, this Shadow hides the Sun from us, and at the same time darkens a part of the en­lightned half of the Earth, which was seen by the Inhabitants of the obscure half of the Moon: And this is an Eclipse of the Sun to us, in our Day; and an E­clipse of the Earth to those in the Moon, in their Night. When the Moon is at the Full, the Earth is betwixt her and the Sun, and all the obscure part of the Earth is turn'd towards the enlightned half of the Moon, the Shadow of the Earth is then cast upon the Moon; and if it falls directly on her Surface, it obscures the enlightned half which we see, and hides the Sun from that enlightned part of the Moon that enjoy'd the Day: This is an Eclipse of the Moon to us, during our Night; and an Eclipse of the Sun to them, during their Day. By this Rea­son, it falls out, that there are not always Eclipses when the Moon interposes be­tween [Page 52] the Sun and the Earth, or the Earth is interjected between the Sun and the Moon; because these three Bodies are not opposite one to another, in a streight Line; and by consequence, that of the three, which ought to make the Eclipse, casts its shadow a little to one side of that which shou'd be eclips'd.

I am extreamly surpriz'd, said the Mar­quiese, that (since there is so little of My­stery or Difficulty in Eclipses) every bo­dy does not find out the Cause of 'em. Do not wonder at that, said I, Madam; there are many Nations in the World, that, as they go to work, will not find it out for Ages to come; for all over the East-India's, the Inhabitants believe, that when the Sun or Moon is eclips'd, certain Demons, or Spirits, who have very black Claws, do stretch them forth upon these two Luminaries, which he endeavours to sieze: and during the time of the Eclipse, you may see all the Rivers cover'd with Heads of Indians; for they go into the Water, up to the Neck, thinking that most devout posture for obtaining from the Sun and Moon, a defence against that Demon. In America, the People were [Page 53] perswaded, that the Sun and Moon were angry with 'em when they were eclips'd; and God knows what pains they are at, to make their Peace with 'em. But the Gre­cians, who were so polite a People, Did not they believe for a long time, that the Moon was bewitch'd, and that the Ma­gicians made her come down, to throw a certain poisonous Scum or Dew upon the Herbs and Grass? And even we our selves, Were we not frightned out of our Wits at an Eclipse of the Sun, that happen'd about thirty Years since? Did not a great ma­ny People shut themselves up in Vaults and Cellars? And did not the learned Men write in vain, to assure us, there was no danger? Certainly, said the Marquiese, that's very disgraceful to Mankind; and I think there ought to be a Law made by universal Consent, never to speak of E­clipses hereafter, lest the memory of such Folly shou'd be preserv'd to Posterity. Pray, Madam, said I, let there be another Law made, for abolishing the Memory of all things past; for I know of nothing, that is not a Monument of the Folly of Mankind. Pray, tell me, said the Mar­quiese; Are the Inhabitants of the Moon [Page 54] as much afraid of Eclipses as we are? It seems to me very ridiculous, that some of 'em shou'd run into the Water up to the Neck; that others shou'd think our Earth angry with 'em; some, that our Earth shou'd be bewitch'd, and that we are com­ing to spoil their Grass. Without all doubt, said I, Madam: Why shou'd the Inhabitants of the Moon have more Sense than we? And what Right have they to frighten us, more than we have to frigh­ten them? Nay, more; I am apt to be­lieve, that as there has been, and still are, many Inhabitants in our Globe, who are such Fools to adore the Moon; there are also Inhabitants in the Moon, foolish enough to adore our Earth. At that rate, said the Marquiese, we may very well pre­tend to send Influences to the Moon, and to give a Judgment on their Distempers. But since there is only requisite, a little more Wit and Ingenuity in the Inhabi­tants of that Country, to blast the Ho­nour we flatter our selves with, I confess, I am still apprehensive, they may have some Advantage over us. Do not fear, said I; there is no likelihood that we are the only Fools of the Universe. Igno­rance [Page 55] is naturally a very general Talent; and though I do but guess at that of the Inhabitants of the Moon, yet I no more doubt of it, than I do of the most certain News we have from thence.

And what, pray, are these certain News you have from thence, interrupted she? They are, said I, Madam, such as are brought us every Day by the Learned, who travel daily thither by the help of long Telescopes: They tell us, they have discover'd vast Countries, Seas, Lakes, high Mountains, and deep Valleys.

You surprize me, said the Marquiese: I know very well, that Mountains and Valleys may be discover'd in the Moon, by the remarkable Inequality we see in its Surface; But how do they distinguish Countries and Seas? Very easily, said I; because the Water permits a part of the Light to pass through it, and reflects less, and appears, at a great distance, to be obscure Spots; and that the Earth, which is solid, reflects the whole Light, and therefore must appear the brightest part of the Globe of the Moon. These different parts are all so well known, that they have given them all Names of lear­ned [Page 56] Men: One place is call'd Copernicus; another, Archimedes; and a third, Gali­leus: There are too a Caspian-Sea, Por­phory-Hills, and the Black Lake. In short, they have fram'd so exact a Description of the Moon, that a learned Man, if he were there, wou'd be in no more danger of lo­sing his Way, than I wou'd be, if I were at Paris.

But, reply'd the Marquiese, I shou'd be very well pleas'd to have a farther Ac­count of this Country. 'Tis impossible, reply'd I, that the nicest Observators shou'd inform you so well as Astolpho, of whom you ought to enquire; and who was conducted to the Moon by St. Iohn. What I shall tell you now, is one of the most pleasant Fooleries in all Ariosto; and I am satisfy'd, 'twill not displease you to know it. I own, I ought not to meddle with St. Iohn, whose Name is so worthy of Respect: But since there is a Poetical Licence, and Liberty of Conscience, it ought to pass as a Gayety. The whole Poem is dedicated to a great Church-man, and another great Church-man has ho­nour'd it with a signal Approbation; which one may perceive by the several Editions. See what he treats of.

[Page 57] Orlando Nephew to Charlemain, be­came mad, because the fair Angelica had proffer'd Medora to him; one day Astol­pho the brave Paladine, found himself in a terrestrial Paradise, which was on the brink of a very high Mountain whither his flying Horse had carry'd him; there he met Saint—who told him that to cure the Madness of Orlando, 'twas ne­cessary they shou'd take a Voyage to the Moon; Astolpho who desir'd nothing more than to see that Country, wanted no intreaties, and behold on a sudden a Cha­riot of Fire carry'd the Saint, and the Pa­ladine through the Air. As Astolpho was no great Philosopher, he was much surpriz'd to see the Moon so vastly bigger than it had appeared to him upon the Earth, and was much more amaz'd to see Rivers, Lakes, Mountains, Plains, Groves, Towns, and Forests, (and that which wou'd have surpriz'd me also) beautiful Nymphs that hunted in those Forests. But that which he beheld yet more rare, was a Valley where he found all things that were lost on Earth, of what kind soever, Crowns, Riches, Renown, and Grandure, Infinity of hopes, time lost in [Page 58] waiting and depending on promising States-men, or thrown away at Play; the Alms that one causes to be given after ones Death; The Verses and Dedications one presents to Princes and the sighs of Lovers. As for the Sighs of Lovers, re­ply'd the Marquiese, interrupting me, I know not whether in the time of Ariosto they were lost or not, but in ours, I know of none that go into the Moon. Were there none but you Madam reply'd I, smiling, you have caus'd so many to sigh in vain, that you have made a considera­ble Treasure in the Moon: in short the Moon is exact in collecting all that is lost here below, and which are all to be found there, even to the Donation of Constan­tine. (But Astolpho told me this on­ly in my Ear.) Besides all the Folly that was ever committed upon the Earth is well preserv'd there; these are so many Vials full of a subtil and penetrating Li­quor, which easily evaporates as soon as opened, and upon every one of these Vi­als is writ the name of those to whom it belongs. I believe that Ariosto put 'em all in one Cup, but I had rather fan­sie to my self that they were orderly plac'd [Page 59] in one Gallery. Astolpho was very much astonisht to see the Vials of so many Persons whom he believed to be very wise, and yet notwithstanding their Vials were so very full; and for my part, I am perswaded that mine is as full as any since I entertain you with Visions, both Philo­phick and poetical. That which com­forts me is, that 'tis possible by what I am perswading you to believe, I shall ve­ry suddenly make you have a Vial in the Moon as well as my self. The good Pala­dine did not fail to find his own among the Number, and by the Permission of the Saint, he took it and snuff'd up the Spi­rit as if it had been the Queen of Hunga­ry's Water: But Ariosto said he wou'd not carry it far, and that it wou'd return to the Moon again by a Folly that he com­mitted seven Years after: But he did not forget the Vial of Orlando which was the occasion of his Voyage; he had a great deal of difficulty to carry it, for the Spirit of this Hero was in its own Nature very heavy, and did not want a drop of being full. But here Ariosto according to the laudable Custom of speaking what he pleas'd, addressing himself to his Mistriss, [Page 60] speaks to her thus in good Verse. ‘That I ought to cause one to mount the Hea­vens, my fair one, to make me recover the Senses your Charms have made me lose, yet I will not complain of this Loss, provided it does not go too far, but if there be a Necessity that your Cruelties must continue, as they have begun, I have no more to do but to expect just such a Fate as Orlando's; however I do not believe, that to reco­ver my Senses 'tis requisite I go through the Air to the Moon; my Soul does not lodge so high; it wanders about your fair Eyes, and Mouth; and if you will be pleas'd to give me leave to take it, per­mit me to recover it with my Lips.’ Is not this witty for me to reason like Ariosto? I am of opinion that a Man ne­ver loses his Wits but for Love; and you see they do not travel far, while their Lips only know so well how to recover 'em. But when one loses 'em by other means (as we lose 'em by Philosophizing) they go directly to the Moon, and one cannot retrieve 'em when one pleases. In recompence of this, said the Marquiese, our Vials shall be Honourable among the [Page 61] Ranks of the Philosophers: For our Spi­rits will go on in wandring and erring on something that is worthy of 'em; but to accomplish this, and rid me of mine.

But pray tell me seriously, said the Mar­quiese, do you believe that there are Men in the Moon? For hitherto, you have said nothing to me positively as to that. I do not believe there are Men there, Madam, but some other odd sort of Creatures: Pray, Madam, consider but how much the Face of Nature is chang'd betwixt this and China; other Faces, other Shapes, other Manners, and almost quite diffe­rent Principles of reasoning, from this to the Moon the difference ought to be more considerable. When one travels towards the new discovered World of A­merica, &c. and finds the Inhabitants there to be hardly Men, but rather a kind of Brutes in humane shape, and that not perfect neither, so that could we travel to the Orb of the Moon, I do not think we should find Men and Women there. What kind of Creatures should we find then said the Marquiese, with a very impatient look? I swear I cannot tell, said I Madam, were it possible for us to be rational Crea­tures [Page 62] and yet not Men, and that we in­habited the Moon, cou'd it ever enter in­to our Imagination, that there dwelt here below so extravagant an Animal as that of Mankind? Could we fansie to our selves any living Creatures with such foo­lish Passions, and so wise Reflections; of so small Duration, and yet can see so vast a Prospect beyond it; of so much know­ledge in Trifles, and so much Ignorance of important things; so earnest for liber­ty, yet so enclin'd to servitude and Sla­very; so very desirous of Happiness, and yet so uncapable of attaining it; it wou'd require a great deal of Wit and Judgment in the Inhabitants of the Moon, to find the Reason and Mystery of such an odd composition; for we that see one ano­ther daily, have not as yet found out how we are made. It was said of old amongst the Heathens, that the Gods when they made Man were drunk with Nectar, whom when they had consider'd when sober, they cou'd not forbear laughing at the ridiculousness of their handy Work. We are then secure enough, said the Mar­quiese, that the Inhabitants of the Moon will never guess what we are; but I wish [Page 63] we could attain to the knowledge of them; for I must confess it makes me uneasie to think there are Inhabitants in the Moon, and yet I cannot so much as fansie what kind of Creatures they are. And why are you not as uneasie, said I, upon the account of the Inhabitants un­der and near the South-Pole, which is al­together unknown to us? They and we are carried as it were in the same Ship, they in the Stern, and we in the Head; and yet you see there is no communica­tion between the Stern and the Head, and that those at the one end of the Ship do not know what kind of People they are on the other, nor what they are do­ing, and yet you would know what pas­ses in the Moon, in that other great Ship sailing in the Heavens at a vast distance from us. Ah, said the Marquiese, I look upon the Inhabitants under the South-Pole, as a People known to us, because they are most certainly very like us; and that we may see them if we please to give our selves the trouble; they will continue still where they are, and can­not run away from our knowledge; but we shall never know what these Inhabi­tants [Page 64] of the Moon are; 'tis that that vexes me. If I shou'd answer you se­riously, said I, that we may one day know 'em, wou'd not you laugh at me? Nay and I shou'd deserve it: Yet I cou'd de­fend my self very well if I shou'd say so; there is a certain ridiculous thought in my Head, which has some shadow of like­lihood, which satisfies me, tho I do not know on what it is founded, it being so impertinent as it is; yet I will lay you what you will, that I will oblige you to believe against all Reason, that there may one day be a correspondence between the Earth and the Moon. Reflect a little, Ma­dam, upon the State and Condition of A­merica, before it was discovered by Chri­stopher Columbus; it's Inhabitants liv'd in a most profound Ignorance, so far from the knowledge of Sciences, that they were ignorant of the most simple and useful Art: They went stark naked and cou'd not imagine that Men cou'd be cover'd by Skins of Beasts; had no other Arms but Bows, and who look upon the Sea as a vast space forbidden to mankind, joining, as they thought, to the Sky; beyond which they saw nothing. 'Tis [Page 65] true after having spent several years with hollowing the root of a great Tree with sharp Flints, they after ventur'd to go in this kind of Boat, which was driven a­long the Shore by the Winds and the Waves; but as this kind of Vessel was ve­ry subject to be over-set very often, they were necessitated to swim to catch their Boat again; and indeed, they did swim for the most part, except when they were weary. If any Body had told them there was a Navigation much more perfect than that they knew; and that by it, it was easie to cross that vast extent of Wa­ter to any side, and in what manner we pleas'd, and that it was possible to stop and lie still in the midst of the Waves, while the Vessel is in Motion; that Men cou'd move fast or slow as they pleas'd; and that the Sea, notwithstanding the vast­ness of its extent, was no hindrance to the commerce of distant Nations, provided that there were People on the other shoar; surely the Indians wou'd never have be­liev'd that Man that should have told 'em this, to them impossibility: nevertheless, the day came, that the strangest and least expected Sight that ever they saw, pre­sented [Page 66] it self to their view, huge great Bodies, which seem'd to have white wings with which they flew upon the Sea belch­ing Fire from all parts, and at last landed upon their shoar a Race of unknown Men, all crusted over with pollish'd Steel, or­dering and disposing at their Pleasure the Monsters that brought 'em thither, carrying Thunder in their Hands which destroy'd all that made any resistance, while the wondring Indians cried, from whence came they? who brought them over the Seas? who has given 'em the Power of Fire and Thunder? are they Gods or the Children of the Sun? for certainly, they are not Men. I know not, Madam, whe­ther you conceive as I do, the extraor­dinary surprize of these Americans, but certainly there was never any equal to it; and after that, I will not swear, but there may be one day, a commerce betwixt the Earth and the Moon: Had the Americans, any Reason to hope for a correspondence betwixt America and Europe, (which they did not know?) It is true, there will be a Necessity to cross the vast Extent of Air and Heaven that is betwixt the Earth and the Moon. But did these Americans [Page 67] think the Ocean more proper to be cros­sed, and pass'd through? Sure, said the Mar­quiese, you are mad; and looking earnest­ly on me; I do not deny it, answer'd I; nay, said she, it is not sufficient to confess it, I will prove you to be mad. The A­mericans were so ignorant, that the Possi­bility of making a way or passage through the vast Ocean, cou'd never enter into their Thoughts; but we that know so much, we easily find out that it wou'd be no hard matter to pass through the Air if we cou'd support our selves. There are those Men, said I, who have found out more than a possibility of it; for they actually begin to fly a little, and several have made and fitted wings to them­selves, and invented a way to give them­selves Motion, for supporting the Body in the Air, for crossing of Rivers, and fly­ing from one steeple to another. 'Tis true, these were not flights of an Eagle; and it has cost some of these new Birds a Leg or an Arm: But this Essay is like the first Planks that were carry'd on the Wa­ter, which yet gave beginnings to ship­ping; and there was a very great diffe­rence between these Planks and Ships of [Page 68] mighty burden; yet you see that time by de­grees has produc'd great Ships. The Art of flying is but in its Infancy, time must bring it to Maturity, and one day Men will be a­ble to fly to the Moon. Do you pretend to have discover'd all things, said she, or to have brought them to that perfection that nothing can be added? Pray, Ma­dam, said I, by consent, let us save some­thing for the Age to come. I will never yield, said she, that Men will ever be a­ble to fly without breaking their Necks. Well, said I, Madam, since you will needs have Men always to fly so ill, it may be the Inhabitants of the Moon will fly bet­ter, and will be fitter for that Trade; for 'tis all one, if we go to them or they to us. And we shall be like the Americans, who did not believe Navigation possible, when at the same time, sailing was so well understood on the other half of the Globe. Sure, said she, in anger, the In­habitants of the Moon wou'd have been with us before now, if that were likely. Pardon me, said I, Madam, the Europae­ans did not sail to America, till after six thousand years, all that time was requi­site for performing Navigation. The In­habitants [Page 69] of the Moon, it may be, at that time, knew how to make little Journeys in the Air, and are now practising; and it may be when they have more skill, we shall see 'em. And God knows what a strange Surprise 'twill be to us. This is insupportable, said the Marquiese, to ban­ter me on thus with such frivolous Argu­ments. If you anger me, said I, I know what I have to say to enforce 'em, and make all good. Observe, Madam, how the World is daily more and more un­folded. The Ancients believed the torrid and the frozen Zones uninhabituable for extremity of cold or heat: And the Ro­mans confin'd the general Map of the World to their own Empire, which car­ry'd as much of Grandure as Ignorance. But we know that there are Inhabitants both in these extreme hot, and extreme cold Countries; by this the World is much augmented. Then it was believed, that the Ocean cover'd all the Earth, ex­cept what was inhabited: And that there was no Antipodes; for the Ancients ne­ver heard of them: Besides they cou'd not believe Men cou'd have their Feet opposite to ours, with their Heads hang­ing [Page 70] down; and yet after all this the Anti­podes are discover'd, the Map of the World is corrected, and a new half added to the World. You understand my meaning, said I, Madam; these Antipodes which have been discover'd contrary to all Ex­pectation, ought to make us more cir­cumspect in judging by appearances: The World, and secrets of Nature will be dai­ly more and more discover'd; and at last we may come to know somewhat more of the Moon. Certainly, said the Mar­quiese, looking earnestly on me, I see you so charmed with this Opinion, that I doubt not but you believe all you say. I shou'd be very sorry to find my self so, said I; my endeavour is only to show, that chimerical Opinion may be so far defended by strength of Argument, as to amuse a Person of your Understanding and Sense, but not to perswade: Nothing but truth it self has that Influence; even without the Ornaments of all its convin­cing Proofs; it penetrates so naturally in­to the Soul, that one seems but to call it to mind; tho it be the first time that ever one heard of it. Now you ease me, said she, for your false way of arguing did [Page 71] confound and incommode me, but now I can go sleep soundly; so, if you please, let us retire.

MY Lady Marquiese wou'd needs en­gage me to pursue and continue our Discourse by Day-light; but I told her, 'twas more proper to reserve our Fancies and Notions till the Night; and since the Moon and Stars were the Sub­jects of our Conversation, to trust it only to them. We did not fail to go that Eve­ning into the Park, which was now be­come a place consecrated to our Philoso­phical Entertainment. I have a great deal of News to tell you, said I: The Moon, which I told you last Night (by all appearance) was inhabited, now I be­gin to think, may be otherwise; for I have been reflecting upon a thing, which puts its Inhabitants in great danger. I shall never suffer that, said the Mar­quiese; for you having prepar'd me last [Page 72] Night, put me in hopes to see these Peo­ple arrive one Day upon our Earth; and to day, you will not allow them a being in the Universe: You shall not impose upon me at this rate. You made me be­lieve there were Inhabitants in the Moon; I have overcome all the Difficulties my Reason suggested to me against that Opi­nion, and now I am resolv'd I will believe it. You go too fast, said I, Madam; one ought to give but one half of ones Thoughts and Belief to Opinions of this nature, reserving the other half free for receiving the contrary Opinion, if there be occasion. I am not to be deluded, reply'd the Marquiese, with fair Words; let us come to the subject matter in de­bate: Must not we reason the same way of the Inhabitants of the Moon, as we did of your St. Denis? Not at all, Madam, answer'd I; the Moon does not so much resemble the Earth, as St. Denis does Pa­ris. The Sun draws from the Earth, Wa­ters, Exhalations and Vapours; which as­cending into the Air, to a certain heighth, are gather'd together, and form Clouds; these Clouds, hanging in the Air, move regularly round our Globe, and over sha­dows [Page 73] sometimes one Country, sometimes another: And if it were possible for any one to see and consider the Earth at a great distance, he wou'd perceive great Changes as to the appearance of its Sur­face; for a great Country, cover'd with Clouds, wou'd appear to be a very ob­scure part of the Globe, and will become clear and enlightned as soon as these Clouds dis-appear; and one wou'd see these obscure places change their Situa­tion, meeting together in different Fi­gures, or disappearing all together. We shou'd see therefore the same Changes up­on the Surface of the Moon, were it en­compass'd with Clouds, as the Earth is; but on the contrary, all the Obscurities, or dark places, as also those parts that are enlightned, are still the same, fix'd to the same Situation, without Variation or Change; there lies the difficulty: And for this reason, the Sun draws no Vapours or Exhalation from the Globe of the Moon; and by consequence, 'tis a Body infinitely harder, and more solid than our Earth, whose subtile parts are easily sepa­rated from the rest, and mount upward, being once set in motion by the heat of [Page 74] the Sun: So that the Moon must needs be nothing else but a vast heap of Rocks and Marble, from which no Vapour can be exhal'd; which Vapours are so essen­tial and natural to Waters, that 'tis im­possible the one can be without the other. Who can then be the Inhabitants of those Rocks that produce nothing? Or what living Creatures can subsist in a Country without Water? How! cry'd my Lady Marquiese; Have you forgot that you as­sur'd me, there were Seas in the Moon, which we cou'd distinguish from hence? That's only a Conjecture, said I; and I am very sorry that these obscure places, that may be taken for Seas, are, possibly, nothing else but deep Caverns, and vast Cavities; and guessing is pardonable, at the great distance we are at from the Moon. But, said she, is that sufficient to make us reject the Inhabitants of the Moon? Not altogether, Madam, said I; nor must we absolutely declare either for 'em, or against 'em. I confess my weak­ness, said she; I am not capable of such Indifference, and I must be positive in my Belief; therefore let us free our selves of one Opinion; let us either preserve the [Page 75] Inhabitants of the Moon, or annihilate 'em for ever, never to be heard of again; but, if possible, let us preserve 'em, for I have an Inclination and a Kindness for 'em, I wou'd not willingly lose. I shall not unpeople the Moon then, Madam, said I, but for your sake shall restore to it its In­habitants: And the truth is, that by the Appearance of the obscure and enlight­ned places of the Moon, which are still the same, without change, we have no reason to believe that there are any Clouds surrounding it, which might ob­scure sometimes one place, sometimes a­nother; but yet that does not argue, but she may emit Vapours and Exhalations: Our Clouds which we see carry'd in the Air, are nothing but Exhalations and Va­pours, which are separate in Particles, too small to be seen; which meeting with cold Airs, as they ascend, by it are con­densed, and render'd visible to us, by the Re-union of their Parts; after which, they become thick and black Clouds, which float in the Air, as Stranger-Bo­dies, till at last they fall upon the Earth in Rain: But sometimes it falls out, that the same Vapours and Exhalations are ex­tended, [Page 76] and kept from joining together, and so are imperceptible, and are only ga­ther'd together so far as to form a kind of small Dew, so very subtile, that it cannot be seen as 'tis a-falling. It may be, in like manner, that the Vapours which proceed from the Moon (for certainly it emits Vapours;) and 'tis impossible to believe, that the Moon can be such a Body, as that all its parts shou'd be of an equal Solidity, and so equal a temper, one with the other, that they are incapable of receiving any Change, by the attracting and moving Influence of the Sun upon 'em: We know no Body of this nature, the hardest Mar­bles are not of this kind; and there is no Body, how hard and solid soever, but is subject to Change and Alteration, either by secret and invisible Motion in it self, or by some exterior Impulse it receives from another. It may be therefore, as I said, that Vapours which arise from the Moon are not gather'd together, as a roun­ded Surface, into Clouds, but fall gently upon it again in insensible Dews, and not in Rain: And 'tis sufficient to demon­strate this, to conjecture only, that the Air which environs the Moon, is as dif­ferent [Page 77] from the Air that environs the Earth, as the Vapours of the Air from the Exhalations of the other; which is more than likely to be true; and it must fol­low, that Matter being otherwise dispos'd of in the Moon, than in the Earth, its ef­fects shou'd also be different; and imports nothing, whether it be an interior Motion of the parts of the Moon, or the Produ­ction of external Causes, which furnish it with Inhabitants, and them with a suffi­cient Food for their Subsistence; so that, in our Imagination, we may furnish 'em with Fruits and Grain of several sorts, Waters, and what else we please; for Fruit, Grain and Water, I understand, are agreeable to the nature of the Moon, of whose Nature I know nothing; and all these proportion'd and fitted to the Ne­cessities of the Inhabitants, of whom I know as little. That is to say, said the Marquiese, that you only know, that all is very well there, without knowing in what manner; that is a great deal of Ig­norance, with a little Knowledge; but we must have patience: However, I think my self very happy, you have re­stor'd the Moon its Inhabitants again; [Page 78] and I am very much pleas'd, you have surrounded it with Air of its own; for without that, I shou'd think a Planet too naked.

These different Airs, answer'd I, hin­der the Communication and Commerce of these two Planets: If flying wou'd do the business, what do I know, but we might come to perfection in that Art I discours'd of last Night. I confess, Ma­dam, there seems but little likelihood of what I say, since the great distance be­tween the Moon and the Earth makes the difficulty so hard to overcome, which is very considerable; but tho' it were not, and that the Earth and the Moon were plac'd near one another, yet it wou'd not be possible to pass from the Air of the Earth, to the Air of the Moon. The Wa­ter is the Air and Element of Fish, who never pass into the Air and Element of Birds; 'tis not the distance that hinders 'em, but 'tis because every one of 'em are confin'd to the Air which they breath. We find that our Air is mix'd with Vapours, that are thicker and grosser than those of the Moon; and by consequence, any In­habitants of the Moon, who shou'd arrive [Page 79] upon the Confines of our World, wou'd be drown'd and suffocated as soon as they enter'd into our Air, and we shou'd see 'em fall dead upon the Earth.

Oh, but I shou'd be glad, cry'd the Marquiese, that some great Ship-wreck, occasion'd by a mighty Tempest, wou'd throw a good many of these People upon our World, that we might at leisure con­sider their extraordinary Shape and Fi­gure. But, answer'd I, if they had Skill enough to sail upon the external Surface of our Air, and that from thence they shou'd catch us, like Fish, out of a Curio­sity of seeing us; wou'd that please you, Madam? Why not, said she, laughing? I wou'd go of my self into their Nets, to have the satisfaction of seeing those that had caught me. Consider, said I, that you wou'd be very weak and feeble, before you come to the Surface of our Air; for we cannot breath it in all its Ex­tent, and we can hardly live on the Tops of high Mountains; and I wonder that those who are so foolish as to believe, that Corporeal Geniuses inhabit the purest Air, do not tell us why these Geniuses visit us so seldom, and stay so short a [Page 80] while: I do believe, 'tis because few amongst 'em know how to dive; and that even those who are skilful in that Art, have great difficulty to penetrate the gros­ness of the Air which we breath. You see therefore, that Nature has set many Bars and Fences, to hinder us from going out of our World, into that of the Moon. However, for our Satisfaction, let us con­jecture and guess as much as we can of that world: For Example; I fansie that the Inhabitants of the Moon must see the Heavens, the Sun, and the Stars, of a dif­ferent Colour than what they appear to us. All these Objects we see through a kind of natural Perspective-Glass, which changes them to us; this Perspective-glass of ours is mix'd with Vapours and Exha­lations, which do not ascend very high. Some of late pretend, that the Air of it self is blew, as well as the Water of the Sea; and that that Colour is not apparent in the one, nor the other, but at a great depth: The Heavens, say they, in which are plac'd the fixed Stars, has of it self no Light; and by consequence, ought to ap­pear black: But we see it through our Air, which is blew; and therefore the [Page 81] Heavens appear of that Colour. If it be so, the Beams of the Sun and Stars can­not pass through the Air, without taking a little of its Tincture, and at the same time lose as much of their own natural Colour: But supposing the Air had no Colour of it self, 'tis certain, that a Flam­beau, seen at a distance, through a thick Fog, appears of a reddish Colour, tho' that be not natural to it; so all our Air, which is nothing else but a thick Fog, must certainly alter the true natural Co­lour of the Heavens, Sun and Stars to us; for nothing but the pure heavenly Sub­stance is capable to convey to us Light and Colours, in their Purity and Perfe­ction, as they are: So that the Air of the Moon is of another nature than our Air, or is, of it self, of an indifferent Colour; or, at least, is another Fog, changing, in appearance, the Colours of the Celestial Bodies. In short, if there be Inhabitants in the Moon, they see all things chang'd, through their Perspective-glasses, which is their Air.

That makes me prefer our place of Ha­bitation, said the Marquiese, to that of the Moon; for I cannot believe, that the mix­ture [Page 82] of the Heavenly Colours is so fine there, as it is here. Let us suppose, if you will, the Heavens of a reddish Co­lour, and the Stars of a greenish, the Ef­fect wou'd not be half so agreeable as Stars of Gold, upon a deep Blue. To hear you speak, said I, one wou'd think you were fitting of Furniture for a Room, or chusing a Garniture for a Suit of Cloths: Believe me, Nature is very in­genious, therefore let us leave to her Care the finding out a Mixture of Colours a­greeable to the Inhabitants of the Moon; and I assure you, 'twill be perfectly well understood; she certainly has not fail'd of changing the Scene of the Universe, according to the different Situation and Position of the Beholders, and still in a new and agreeable way. I know the Skill of Nature perfectly well, said Madam the Marquiese; and she has spar'd her self the pains of changing her Objects, as to the several Points from whence they may be seen, and has only chang'd the Per­spective-glasses, through which they are seen; and has the Honour of this great Variety, without the Expence: She has bestow'd on us a blue Heaven, with a [Page 83] blue Air; and it may be, she has bestow'd upon the Inhabitants of the Moon, a Hea­ven of Scarlet, with an Air of the same Colour, and yet their Heaven and ours is one and the same: And it seems to me, that Nature has given every one of us a Perspective-glass, or Tube, through which we behold Objects in a very different man­ner, one from the other. Alexander the Great saw the Earth as a fine place, fit for him to form a great Empire upon: Cela­don only look'd upon it, as the Dwelling-place of Astraea: A Philosopher considers it as a great Planet, all cover'd over with Fools, moving through the Heavens: And I do not see that the Object changes more from the Earth to the Moon, than it does here from one Man to another.

The Change of Sights is more surpri­zing to our Imagination, said I; for they are still the same Objects we see at diffe­rent Views; and it may be, in the Moon they see other Objects than we see; at least, they do not see a part of those we see: Perhaps in that Country they know nothing of the Dawning of the Day, of the Twi-light before Sun-rising, and af­ter Sun-setting; for the Beams of the Sun, [Page 84] at these two times, being oblique and faint, have not strength to penetrate the grosness and thickness of the Air, with which we are environ'd; but are receiv'd and intercepted by the Air, before they can fall upon the Earth, and are reflected upon us by the Air; so that Day-break and Twi-light are Favours of Nature which we enjoy by the by, or, as it were, by chance, they not having been destin'd for us; but 'tis likely that the Air of the Moon, being purer than ours, is not so proper and fit for reflecting the faint Beams of the Sun before its Rising, and after its Setting; therefore I suppose, the Inhabitants of the Moon do not enjoy the favourable light of the Aurora, or Dawn­ing; which growing stronger and stron­ger, does prepare us for the glorious Ap­pearance of the Sun at Noon; nor the Twi-light, which becoming more faint by degrees, we are insensibly accustom'd to the Absence of the Sun: So that the Inhabitants of the Moon are in profound Darkness, when on a suddain a Curtain is drawn, as it were, and their Eyes are dazl'd with the Rays of the Sun, and they enjoy a bright resplendent Light; when [Page 85] by a suddain motion, as quick as the for­mer, down falls the Curtain, and instant­ly they are reduc'd to their former Dark­ness: They want those Mediums, or Inter­stices, which join Day and Night together (and which participates of both) which we enjoy. Besides, these People have no Rain-bow; for as the Dawning is an Ef­fect of the thickness of our Air, so the Rain-bow is form'd upon Exhalations and Vapours, condens'd into black Clouds, which pour down Rain upon us, by di­vers Reflections and Refections of the Sun-beams upon these Clouds: So that we owe the Obligation of the most agree­able and pleasant Effects, to the ugliest and most dis-agreeable Causes in Nature: And since the Purity of the Air of the Moon deprives it of Clouds, Vapours and Rain, adieu to Rain-bow and Aurora: To what then can the Lovers in the Moon compare their Mistresses, with­out these two things?

I do much regret that loss, said the Marquiese, for in my Opinion, the Inha­bitants of the Moon are fully recom­pens'd for the want of the Rain-bow, day-break and twi-light, since for the [Page 86] same Reason, they have neither Thunder nor Lightning, both which are produc'd by Clouds and Exhalations; they enjoy bright serene Days, and never lose the Sun by Day, nor the Stars by Night. They know nothing of Storms and Tempest; which seem to us the effects of the wrath of Heaven. And can you think their condition is so much to be lamented? You, said I, Madam, represent the Moon as a most charming abode. Now me­thinks it should not be so desirous and a­greeable to have a burning Sun always o­ver ones Head, without the interposition of any Clouds to moderate its heat: And it may be for this Reason, Nature has sunk these Caverns in the Moon, which are big enough to be seen by our Telescopes: Who knows but the Inhabitants of the Moon, retire into these Cavities, when they are incommoded with the Excessive heat of the Sun, and it may be they live no where else, but build their Towns and Villages in these hollow places? And do not we know that Rome, which is built under ground, is almost as great as the City above ground? So that if we shou'd suppose, that the City of Rome above [Page 87] ground shou'd be ras'd, and quite re­mov'd, Rome under ground wou'd then be just such a Town, as those I have ima­gin'd to be in the Moon. Whole Nations live in these vast Caverns; and I doubt not but there may be Passages under ground, for the communication and com­merce of one People and Nation with another. You are pleas'd to laugh, Ma­dam, at my Fancy, do so with all my Heart, I agree you shou'd; and yet you may be more mistaken than I: For you be­lieve, that the Inhabitants of the Moon dwell upon the Surface of their Globe, as we do on that of the Earth; it is very likely that 'tis just the contrary; for there is most certain, a vast difference between their way of living and ours. No matter, said the Marquiese, I cannot resolve to suffer the Inhabitants of the Moon to live in perpetual Darkness. You wou'd be harder put to it, Madam, said I, if you knew that a great Philosopher of old, be­liev'd the Moon to be the abode and dwelling of the Souls who had merited Happiness by their good Life in this World; and that theit Felicity con­sisted in hearing the Harmony of the [Page 88] Spheres as they turn'd round, and that they were depriv'd of this heavenly Mu­sick, as often as the Moon was obscur'd by the Shadow of the Earth; and that then these Souls roar'd and cry'd out as in despair, and that the Moon made haste to recover her Light again, to bring the Souls out of that Affliction. At that rate, said she, we shou'd see the bless'd Souls come from the Moon to us; for why shou'd not the Earth be to the Moon, as the Moon is to the Earth, since ac­cording to the opinion of your Philoso­pher, there was no other Felicity for the Souls of the blessed, than to be transpor­ted from one World to the other? Seri­ously, said I, Madam, 'twould be a great Pleasure and Satisfaction to see several different Worlds; and I am often glad, to make these Journeys in Imagination; what joy then it wou'd be to do it in rea­lity; that wou'd be far better than to tra­vel from hence to Iapan, crawling as it were with difficulty from one point of this Globe to another, and still to see nothing but Men and Women over and over again. Well, said she, what hinders, but we shou'd make a Journey through the Pla­nets [Page 89] as well as we can? Let us by imagi­nation place our selves in several Positions, and situations, fit for considering the U­niverse. Have we no more to see in the Moon? No, said I, at least, I have shown you all I know. Going out of the Moon towards the Sun, the first Planet you meet with is Venus; and here I must a­gain make use of my former Simile of Pa­ris and St. Denis. Venus turns round the Sun on her own Axis, as the Moon does round the Earth; and by the means of Telescopes, we discover that Venus waxes and wanes, being sometimes alto­gether enlightned, and sometimes dar­kened according to her different Positions in respect to the Earth.

By all appearance the Moon is inhabi­ted, why shou'd not Venus be so, as well as she? Ay, but interrupted the Mar­quiese by your why nots, you will people all the Planets. Do not doubt of it, Ma­dam, answer'd I; why has not Nature sufficient to give Inhabitants to 'em all? We see that all the Planets are of the same Nature, that they are all Opaque solid Bodies, having no Light but what they receive from the Sun; which they send [Page 90] one to another by Reflection, and that they have all the same kind of motion; thus far equal, and after all this must we conceive that all these vast Bodies were made not to be inhabited? And that Na­ture has made only an exception in Fa­vour of the Earth, he that will believe this, may, but for my part I cannot. I find you, said the Marquiese, very resolute and settled in your opinion of a sudden: A little while ago, you wou'd scarce al­low the Moon to be inhabited; and seem'd to be very indifferent, whether it were so or not; whereas now, I am con­fident, you wou'd be very angry with a­ny body that shou'd tell you that all the Planets were not inhabited. It is true, Madam, in the minute wherein you have surpriz'd me, had you contradicted me, as to the Inhabitants of all the Planets, I wou'd not only have defended my opi­nion, but have proceeded, to have given you an exact description of all the several Inhabitants of the Planets. There are cer­tain Moments of believing things; and I never so firmly believ'd the Planets to be inhabited, as in that Moment I spoke of 'em; but now, after cooler Thoughts, I [Page 91] shou'd think it very strange, that the Earth shou'd be inhabited as it is; and the o­ther Planets shou'd be so entirely desolate and desarted: For you must not think, that we see all the living Creatures that inha­bit the Earth. For there are as many several species and kinds of Animals invisible, as there are visible. We see distinctly from the Elephant to the Mite; there our sight is bounded, and there are infinite numbers of living Creatures lesser than a Mite, to whom, a Mite is as big in pro­portion, as an Elephant is to it. The late invention of Glasses call'd Micro­scopes, have discover'd thousands of small living Creatures, in certain Liquors, which we cou'd never have imagin'd to have been there. And it may be the dif­ferent tastes of these Liquors, proceed from these little Animals, who bite, and sting our Tongues and Palates. If you mix certain ingredients in these Li­quors, (as Pepper in Water,) and expose 'em to the heat of the Sun, or let 'em putrefie, you shall see other new species or living Creatures. Several Bo­dies, which appear to be solid, are no­thing else but Collections or little heaps [Page 92] of these imperceptible Animals; who find there as much room, as is requisite for them to move in. The leaf of a Tree, is a little World inhabited, by such invisi­ble little Worms: To them this leaf seems of a vast Extent, they find Hills and Valleys upon it: And there is no more Commu­nication between the living Creatures on the one side, and those on the other, than between us and the Antipodes. And I think there is more reason, to believe a Planet (which is so vast a Body) to be inhabited. There has been found in se­veral sorts of very hard Stones, infinite multitudes of little Worms, lodg'd all over them in insensible varieties; and who are nourish'd upon the Substance of these Stones which they eat. Consider the vast Numbers of these little Animals, and how long a tract of Years they have liv'd upon a grain of Sand. And by this Argument, tho my Moon were nothing but a confus'd heap of Marble Rocks, I wou'd rather make it be devour'd and consum'd by its Inhabitants, than to place none at all in it.

To conclude, every thing lives, and eve­ry thing is animated; that is to say, if [Page 93] you comprehend the Animals, that are generally known; the living Creatures lately discover'd, and those that will be discover'd herafter, you will find that the Earth is very well Peopl'd; and that Nature has been so liberal in bestowing them, that she has not been at the pains to discover half of 'em. After this, can you believe, that Nature, who has been fruitful to Excess as to the Earth, is bar­ren to all the rest of the Planets? My Reason is convinc'd, said the Marquiese, but my Fancy in confounded with the in­finite Number of living Creatures, that are in the Planets; and my thoughts are strangely embarass'd with the variety that one must of Necessity imagine to be a­mongst 'em; because I know Nature does not love Repetitions; and therefore they must all be different. But how is it possible for one to represent all these to our Fancy? Our Imaginations can never comprehend this variety, said I, let us be satisfied with our Eyes, or we may easily conceive by an universal view, Nature has form'd variety in the several Worlds. All the Faces of Mankind are in general near the same Form. Yet the two great Na­tions [Page 94] of our Globe, the Europaeans and Afri­cans, seem to have been made after different Models. Nay, there is a certain resemblance and Air of the Countenance peculiar to e­very Family or Race of Men. Yet it is won­derful to observe how many Millions of Times, Nature has varied so simple a thing as the Face of a Man. We, the Inhabitants of the Earth, are but one little Family of the Universe, we resemble one another. The Inhabitants of another Planet, are a­nother Family, whose Faces have ano­ther Air peculiar to themselves; by all appearance, the difference increases with the distance, for cou'd one see an Inhabi­tant of the Earth, and one of the Moon together, he wou'd perceive less difference between them, than between an Inhabi­tant of the Earth, and an Inhabitant of Saturn. Here (for Example) we have the use of the Tongue and Voice, and in another Planet, it may be, they only speak by Signs. In another the Inhabi­tants speaks not at all. Here our Reason is form'd and made perfect by Experience. In another Place, Experience adds little or nothing to Reason. Further off, the old know no more than the young. Here [Page 95] we trouble our selves more to know what's to come, than to know what's past. In another Planet, they neither afflict them­selves with the one nor the other; and 'tis likely they are not the less happy for that. Some say we want a sixth Sense by which we shou'd know a great many things we are now ignorant of. It may be the Inhabitants of some other Planet have this advantage; but want some of those other five we enjoy; it may be also that there are a great many more na­tural Senses in other Worlds; but we are satisfi'd with the five that are fal'n to our Share, because we know no better. Our Knowledge is bounded to certain limits, which the Wit of Man cou'd never yet ex­ceed. There is a certain point where our Ingenuity is at a stand; that which is be­yond it is for some other World, where it may be some things, that are familiar to us, are altogether unknown. Our Globe enjoys the Pleasure of Love; but is destroyed in several places by the fury of War. Another Planet enjoys constant Peace, without the delights of Love, which must render their Lives very irksom. In fine, Nature has done to the several [Page 96] Worlds in great, as she has done to us Mortals in little by making some hap­py, others miserable. Yet she has never forgot her admirable Art in varying all things, tho she has made some equal in some respects, by compensating the want of any one thing, with another of equal value.

Are you satisfi'd, said I, Madam, very gravely; have not I told you Chimeras in abundance? Truly, I find not so much difficulty to comprehend these differences of Worlds; my Imagination is working upon the Model you have given me And I am representing to my own Mind odd Characters and Customs for these Inhabi­tants of the other Planets. Nay more, I am forming extravagant shapes and fi­gures for 'em: I can describe 'em to you; for I fansie I see 'em here. I leave these shapes, said I, Madam, to enter­tain you in Dreams this Night, to mor­row, we shall know, if they have assisted you, to describe the Inhabitants of some other Planet.

THe Dreams of my Lady Marquiese were not lucky, they still represen­ted to her something like what we see on Earth; so that I had as much reason to reproach her, as certain People have to blame us when they see some of our Pi­ctures; for they being ignorant of draw­ing, and designing, and pleasing them­selves with their extravagant and gro­tesque Figures, tell us, our Pictures are nothing but Men and Women, and that there is no Fancy in 'em; there was there­fore a necessity of laying aside all sorts of the Forms and Figures of those Animals that inhabit several Planets, and to rest satisfy'd by guessing as well as we can, in pursuing our Journey, which we had be­gun, through the several Worlds of the Universe.

We were at Venus: And there is no doubt, said I to my Lady Marquiese, but Venus turns upon her own Axis, but 'tis not known in what time, and by conse­quence, we know not the length of her [Page 98] Days, but her Years must consist but of eight Months, since Venus turns round the Sun in that space of time. As Venus is forty times less than the Earth, the Earth must necessarily appear to the Inhabitants of Venus, to be forty times bigger than Ve­nus appears to us; and as the Moon is also forty times less than the Earth, by conse­quence, it must appear to the Inhabitants of Venus, about the same bigness that Ve­nus appears to us.

You afflict me, said the Marquiese, ex­treamly; I see very well, that our Earth is not that happy Planet to the Inhabi­tants of Venus, as she is to us; for our Globe of the Earth must appear too big to the Inhabitants of Venus, to be the Foun­tain of Love, but the Moon, which ap­pears to the World of Venus, of the same size that Venus appears to us, is exactly cut out to be the Source of their Amours, and the lucky Star of their Intrigues; which Titles are most agreeable to the pretty, clear, twinkling Planets, which have in 'em a certain Air of Gallantry. 'Tis certainly a happy Fate for our Moon to give Laws to the Loves of the Inhabi­tants of Venus: No doubt, but these Peo­ple [Page 99] are very soft, and have the Art to please extreamly well. Without dispute, Madam, said I; the very Mobile of Ve­nus are all made up of Celladons and Sil­vanders, and their most ordinary Con­versations excel the finest in Clelia; the Climate being more savourable to Love: Venus being nearer the Sun than we, re­ceives from its Influence a brighter Light, and a more enlivening Heat. I perceive very well, interrupted the Marquiese, what kind of People the Inhabitants of Venus are; they are, like our Moors of Granada, a sort of little Sun-burnt Gentlemen, al­ways in Love, full of Life and Fire, given to making Verses, and great Lovers of Musick, and every Day inventing Feasts, Balls and Masquerades, to entertain their Mistresses. Pray, Madam, said I, you are very ill acquainted with the Inhabitants of Venus; for our Moors of Granada are, in respect to them, as the Inhabitants of Lapland, or Greenland, for Coldness and Stupidity.

But what then must the Inhabitants of Mercury be, for they are yet more near to the Sun? They must certainly be mad, by having too much Light and Fire; and [Page 100] I believe they have no more Memory, than the most part of our Negroes; they never think, and are void of all Reflection, and they only act by Chance, and by sud­dain Impulses. In short, the Planet Mer­cury must certainly be the Bethlem of the Universe; they see the Sun a great deal bigger than we do, because they are so much nearer to it; he darts upon 'em so strong a Light, that if the Inhabitants of Venus were here, they wou'd take our finest Days for the Remains of a saint Twi-light; and it may be, the Light we enjoy, wou'd not serve them to distinguish one Object from another; and the Heat they are accustom'd to is so excessive, that the greatest warmth enjoy'd by the Inha­bitants of the middle of Africk, wou'd frieze them to death. Their Year casts but three Months; the length of their Day is yet unknown, Mercury being so little a Planet, and so near the Sun, in whose Rays he is so continually lost, that he is hitherto scarce discoverable by the Art and Skill of Astronomers, who cou'd never yet get so much hold of Mercury, as to observe the Time in which he per­forms his Revolution upon his own Axis [Page 101] or Centre; but the smallness of his Pla­net perswades me 'tis in a very short time, and then, by consequence, his Days are very short, and his Inhabitants must see the Sun as a very great flaming Brasier, very near their Heads, which, to their Appre­hension, moves with wonderful Rapidi­ty; this makes them so earnestly wish for the coming Night, which, no doubt, must be much more grateful to 'em than the Day; and during those cooler Hours, they are enlightned by Venus, and by the Earth; which two Planets must appear to them of considerable bigness. As for the other Planets, since they are remov'd further than Mercury, towards the Firma­ment, his Inhabitants must see them less than they appear to us, and receive but little Light from 'em, it may be, none at all; the fixed Stars must appear less to 'em also, and they lose the sight of some of 'em entirely, which, in my Opinion, is a very great Loss; for I shou'd be very sorry to see the vast arch'd Roof of the Heavens adorn'd with fewer Stars, or those I do see, appear less, and not so bright.

[Page 102]I am not so much concern'd for that Loss, said the Marquiese, as for their be­ing so extreamly incommoded with exces­sive Heat; and I wish with all my heart, we cou'd ease 'em of that Trouble. Let us therefore allow 'em long and conti­nued Rain, to refresh 'em; such as are in some of the hot Countries of our Earth, which fall for four Months together, during the hottest Seasons. That may be done, said I; but we may find out another Re­medy, to relieve the Inhabitants of Mer­cury; for there are Countries in China, which, by their Situation, must be very hot; yet notwithstanding, the Cold is so excessive during the Months of Iuly and August, that the Rivers are frozen: The Reason is, These Climates abound with Salt-Petre (whose Exhalations being very cold) the force of the Heat draws out of the Earth in great abundance. Let us therefore suppose Mercury to be a little Planet, made of Salt-Petre; and let the Sun extract out of himself a Remedy to his Disease which he gives to the Inhabi­tants. This is certain, that Nature pro­duces no Animal, but in places where they may live; and Custom and Use, joi­ned [Page 103] with Ignorance of what is better, sup­plieth all Defects, and makes Life agree­able; for ought we know, the Inhabi­tants of Mercury want neither Rain, nor Exhalations of Salt-Petre.

After Mercury, you know, the next Planet we find in our Journey, is the Sun; and if we judge by the Earth (which is inhabited) that other Bodies of the same kind may be so too, we are mistaken, and the Why not will fail us here; for the Sun is a Body of a quite different Nature from the Earth, and other Planets: He is the Source and Fountain of all that Light, which the other Planets do only reflect from one to another, after having receiv'd it from him; and so they can ex­change Light one with another, but are incapable of producing it: The Sun alone draws from it self this precious Substance, which he darts a-round him with great Force and Violence, and which is inter­cepted by every Body that is solid; so that there is reflected from one Planet to another long streams and streaks of Light, which crossing and traversing each other in the Air, are interwoven a thousand dif­ferent Ways, and so form a Mixture of [Page 104] the richest substance in Nature: For this end the Sun is plac'd in the Centre, which is the Situation most proper and com­mode; from whence he may equally dis­pence and distribute his Light and Heat, for the livening and enlightning all things round him. The Sun is therefore a Body of a particular Substance; but what kind of Body, or what kind of Substance, is all the difficulty: Heretofore 'twas believ'd, that the Sun was a pure Fire; but the Er­ror of this Opinion was found out in the Beginning of this Age, by Spots which were discover'd upon the Surface of the Sun; as a little after that time, there were new Planets discover'd, of which I shall speak hereafter: The learned part of the World were full of nothing else but these new Planets; and Discourses of 'em were so much in fashion, that they believ'd the Spots in the Sun were nothing else but these new Planets, moving round 'em, which necessarily hid a part of his Body from our sight, when their obscure Side was turn'd towards us. The learned Men of the World made their Court to most Kings and Princes, with these new disco­ver'd Planets; giving the Name of one [Page 105] Prince to one, and of another Prince to another; so that they were like to quar­rel, to whom they shou'd belong.

I am not pleas'd with that at all, said the Marquiese: You told me the other Night, that the Philosophers and learned Men had given Names of Philosophers, Astronomers and Mathematicians to the several Countries of the Moon, and I was very well satisfy'd, and think it but just, that since the Kings and Princes possess the Earth, that they ought to suffer Phi­losophers and Astronomers to rule in the Moon and the Stars, without incroaching upon 'em. What, said I, Madam, Will not you allow Kings and Princes some Corner of the Moon, or some Star, to take their part in time of need? As to the Spots in the Sun, they can be of no manner of use to 'em; for it has been found, they are not Planets, but Clouds of Smoak and Vapours, and, as it were, a Scum arising from the Surface of the Sun; for sometimes they appear in great Quantities, sometimes in less, and at other times they dis-appear; sometimes they join in one, and other times they are dis­pers'd and dissipated; so that it shou'd [Page 106] seem, the Sun is a liquid Substance; some say, 'tis of melted Gold, which boils in­cessantly, and produces those Impurities; and by the force of its Motion, throws upon the Surface its Scum and Dross; and as those consume, new ones are pro­duc'd. Pray, Madam, fansie to your self what strange Bodies these Spots of the Sun must be; there are some of 'em full as big as the Globe of the Earth; judge then what a great quantity there must be of this melted Gold, and of the Extent of this vast Ocean of Light and Fire, which we call the Sun. They say, the Sun ap­pears, through Telescopes, to be full of great Mountains which vomit Flames, and that it is, as it were, a Million of Mount Aetna's, join'd together; but at the same time they acknowledge that these Mountains may be altogether visionary, and that they are nothing else but the Ef­fects of the Glasses of the Telescopes. To whom shall we trust then, when these very Glasses, to which we owe so many new Discoveries, deceive us? In fine, Let the Sun be what it will, it does not at all seem proper to be inhabited; and yet 'tis pity, for the Situation wou'd be [Page 107] extreamly fine; its Inhabitants wou'd be plac'd in the Centre of the Universe, and wou'd see all the other Planets turn regu­larly round 'em, whereas we observe infinite Irregularities in their Course; and 'tis on­ly because we are not in a proper Situa­tion to consider 'em, as not being in the Centre of their Motion. Is it not hard, that there is but one place in the Uni­verse, where the Study of the Stars wou'd be easie, and that that place alone shou'd be uninhabitable? You do not think, whilst you speak, said the Marquiese, were any living Creature in the Sun, he wou'd see neither Planets, nor fixed Stars; nor, indeed, any thing; the brightness of the Sun wou'd render all things else invisible; and if there were Inhabitants in the Sun, they wou'd be apt to believe themselves the only People in Nature.

I confess, said I, I am mistaken, I con­sider'd only the Situation of the Sun, without the Effects of its Light. But, pray, Madam, allow me to tell you, that you who have corrected me so justly, may also be mistaken your self: The Inhabi­tants of the Sun wou'd not so much as see it self; for they wou'd be incapable to [Page 108] support the dazling of his Light, or unable to receive it, by being too near; and all things well consider'd, the Sun wou'd be a Country of blind Men only. So that, once for all, I conclude, the Sun cannot be in­habited; and if you please, Madam, we will continue our Journey to the other Worlds: We are now come to the Cen­tre, which is the lowest Point in all Cir­cular Figures; and therefore must return back again, and go upwards. In the Way, we shall find Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and the Moon; all which Planets we have visited.

The next that presents it self to our Observation is Mars, who contains no­thing rare or curious that I know of: His Days are not a full Hour longer than ours, but his Years are double the length of ours. Mars is less than the Earth, and his Inhabitants see the Sun neither so big, nor so bright as we do. In short, Mars is not worthy the pains of a longer Dis­course; but 'tis very curious to observe Iupiter, and his four Moons, or Guards: they are four little Planets, which turn round Iupiter, as our Moon turns round us. But, says the Marquiese, interrupt­ing [Page 109] me, why are there some Planets at­tending upon others, who, it may be, are no better than themselves? In my Opi­nion, it wou'd be more regular and uni­form if all the Planets, great and small, had but one Motion round the Sun. Ah, Madam! said I; if you understood the Tourbillions, or Whistlings of Monsieur Des Cartes, whose Name is so terrible, and Idea's so agreeable, you wou'd not talk at that rate. Let my Brains turn round, said she, laughing, if they will; I long to know what these Tourbillions are; make haste therefore to satisfie me, I'll manage my self no longer, but henceforth aban­don all my Thoughts to Philosophy, with­out Reserve, let the World talk what they please; but let me understand these Whir­lings. I did not think you capable of such Transports, said I, Madam; and I am sorry they have not a fitter Object: But to satisfie you, a Tourbillion is a heap of Matter, whose parts are disjoin'd one from another, yet moving round all one way; each little part being allow'd a par­ticular Motion of its own, provided al­ways they do not obstruct the general Circular Motion. As for Example; A [Page 110] Tourbillion of Air, call'd a Whirl-wind, or a Hurricain, is an infinite quantity of little Particles of Air, turning all round together, carrying along every thing they meet with in their way: You know that the Planets are carry'd round in the Ce­lestial Matter, which is incredibly subtile and swift; all that vast Ocean, and Mass of Celestial Substance, which is between the Sun, and the Sphere of the fixed Stars, turns round, and carries with it the Pla­nets one way, from East to West, round the Sun, which is plac'd in the Centre; but in shorter or longer time, as they are distant or nearer the Centre, all things turn round, even the Sun it self; but he turns round upon his own Axis: And you are to observe thus; if the Earth were in the middle of the Celestial Mat­ter, as the Sun is, she wou'd also turn round upon her own Axis, like that: This is that great Tourbillion, of which the Sun is, as it were, Governor; but at the same time, all the Planets have little Whirlings peculiar to themselves, in imitation of that great one, the Sun; notwithstanding, they are all carry'd round the Sun, yet every one of them turns round upon his [Page 111] own Axis, and sweeps along with him a share of the Celestial Substance, which yields easily to any Impulse of Motion it receives, provided that does not ob­struct its general Motion round the Sun; and this is call'd the particular Whirling, or Tourbillion of a Planet, which extends as far as the Sphere of its Activity can reach; and if it falls so out, that any les­ser Planet than that which governs the Tourbillion comes in its way, 'tis carry'd with it, and indispensably forc'd round it; but yet that does not hinder both the greater Planet, and the lesser, with their Whirlings, to turn round with the great Tourbillion of the Sun. 'Twas thus that, after the Creation of the Universe, the Earth carry'd the Moon round it self, be­cause the Moon fell within the Extent or Sphere of Activity, and forc'd its Obe­dience. Iupiter, of whom I have said somewhat already, was happier or stron­ger than we; there fell four little Planets in his Neighbourhood, and he subdu'd 'em all four: Our Earth, which is now a chief Planet, had it fallen within the Tourbil­lion of Iupiter, you may easily believe he wou'd have forc'd us to have turn'd round [Page 112] him also, Iupiter being ninety times big­ger than our Earth; and then we had been nothing but a Moon depending up­on Iupiter, whereas now the Earth has a Moon of her own turning round her: So true it is, that Chance of Situation has decided our Fortune. Pray, what Assu­rance have we, said the Marquiese, that our Earth shall always remain in the same Situation? I am afraid we may make a Trip one Day or other, towards some Pla­net as dangerous as Iupiter, who may sweep us round with it self; or that some other stronger Planet may approach nea­rer to us; for I fansie, that the violent Motions of the heavenly Matter you speak of, may agitate and shake the Pla­nets so irregularly, that it might some­times bring 'em nearer together, and at other times remove 'em farther from one another. We might gain rather than lose by that Bargain, said I; for it may be, our Earth wou'd be carry'd near Venus and Mercury, which are little Planets, and cou'd not resist ours: But we have nothing either to hope or fear from such an Accident; the Planets must remain where they are, new Conquests are for­bid [Page 113] them, as they were heretofore to the Kings of China. You know very well, when one mixes Oil and Water together in a Vessel, the Oil will swim above; and if you throw any very light thing into the Vessel, the Oil will support it, and it will not penetrate into the Water: Throw in any other thing, somewhat heavier, of a proportionable weight to penetrate the Oil, which is too weak to stop it; 'twill fall upon the Water, and swim, the Wa­ter being sufficiently strong to bear it up. So that this Vessel, full of two Liquors, which does not mingle together two Bo­dies of an unequal weight, rests naturally in two different Positions, the one above the other; so as the lightest can never de­scend, the heaviest can never ascend. If you add other Liquors that will not min­gle together, and throw as many Bodies into 'em of proportionable weight, 'twill still be the same thing. Imagine to your self, that the Celestial Substance which fills the vast Tourbillion, or Whirling of the Sun, is compos'd of different Coats, wrapp'd within one another, like an O­nion; these Coats are of different weights and force, as Oil and Water, and other [Page 114] Liquors. The Planets also are of different weights; and by consequence, every one of the Planets must stop upon that Coat proportionable to its weight, and which has necessary strength for supporting it, and keeping it in an equal Balance; and you will perceive it is not possible in Na­ture they can remove from thence.

I understand very well, said the Mar­quiese, how these different Weights are regulated, according to their several de­grees: Wou'd to God, there were some such Order amongst us Mortals, to con­fine every Man to the Station that is fit for him. I am now no longer in fear of Iupiter; I am satisfy'd that he will leave us at ease in our own little Whirling, or Tourbillion; I am easily pleas'd, and do not envy Iupiter his four Moons.

You wou'd be to blame if you shou'd, said I; for he has no more than what is ne­cessary for him; considering the great di­stance he is from the Sun, his Moons receive and reflect but a very faint Light. 'Tis true, that Iupiter turns upon his own Axis in the space of ten Hours, his Nights are but four Hours long; and being so short, one wou'd think he had no great need of four [Page 115] Moons: But you must consider, in our Earth, under the North and South Poles, there are six Months of Day, and six Months of Night; because the two Poles being the two Points of the Earth, remo­test from those Countries and Places, up­on which the Sun darts his beams direct­ly, and over which, to our Apprehensions, he seems to perform his Course: The Moon holds, or appears to us to hold the same Road with the Sun: So that if the Inhabitants near the South and North Poles see the Sun during one half of his yearly Course, and then lose his Light du­ring the other half, it must follow, that they see the Moon during one half of her monthly Revolution, and lose her during the other half; that is, for the space of fifteen Days. One of Iupiter's Years is twelve of ours, and there must be two opposite Poles in that Planet where there are Days and Nights of six Years long a­piece. A Night of six Years long is very long, and I believe these four Moons were chiefly created for that reason: The high­est of the four, as to Iupiter, performs its Course round him in seventeen Days, the second in seven Days, the third in three [Page 116] Days and an half, and the fourth in for­ty two Hours. These Revolutions being thus divided by equal halves in these un­happy Climates, where there are six Years of continued Night, one and twenty Hours cannot pass without their seeing appear, at least, the last of the four Moons; which is a very great satisfaction, during so long and irksome a Darkness: But up­on whatever place of Iupiter you shou'd inhabit, these four Moons wou'd repre­sent to your view one of the most agree­able Sights in Nature: Sometimes they rise all four together, then they separate according to the inequality of their Mo­tions; sometimes they see 'em over their Heads, directly above one another; at other times they see 'em appear above their Horzion, at equal distances; at ano­ther time, two of the four are rising, when the other two are setting; but above all, I shou'd be pleas'd to see their constant Eclipsing one another, or the Sun; for there passes no Day, without one of the two; and since Eclipses are so familiar to that World, they must certainly be a Di­vertisement to them, whereas they frigh­ten the Inhabitants of our Earth.

[Page 117]And you will not fail, I hope, says the Marquiese, to bestow Inhabitants upon these four Moons, though they be little, inferior Planets, and only made to enligh­ten the Inhabitants of a greater, during their long Nights. You need not doubt of it, said I, Madam; these four Planets are no less deserving of Inhabitants, be­cause they are so unhappy as to be subject to, and turn round a more important Pla­net. I wou'd, says the Marquiese, have the Inhabitants of these four Moons to be Colonies of Iupiter, and receive their Laws and Manners from thence, and pay Homage and Respect to Iupiter, and not to look upon that great Planet, but with Veneration. And wou'd you not also, said I, have these four Moons to send Ambassadors, from time to time, to the Inhabitants of Iupiter, and swear Fealty to him? For my part, we having no Au­thority over the Inhabitants of our Moon, makes me think that Iupiter has no more over the Inhabitants of his four; and I be­lieve, one of the Advantages he has most reason to brag of, is, that he frightens 'em. For Example; The Inhabitants of that Moon next to Iupiter, see him three hun­dred [Page 118] and sixty times bigger than our one Moon appeareth to us: And as I believe that little Moon to be much nearer to Iu­piter than Ours is; so his greatness must be by that considerably augmented; and they must constantly see that monstrous Planet hanging over their Heads, at a ve­ry small distance. And if it be true, that the Gauls of old, apprehended the fal­ling of the Heavens: The Inhabitants of that Moon have more Reason to fear the falling of Iupiter. It may be, said she, they have that fright, instead of that of the Eclipses, which you told me, they are free from; and which must be sup­ply'd by some other piece of Folly. It must be so infallibly, said I, Madam, for the great inventer of the third System, of which I spoke to you the other Day, the Ticho-Brahe one of the greatest Astrono­mers that ever liv'd, was far from fear­ing Eclipses as the Vulgar do; but instead of that, he fear'd, if the first he met (as he went out of his House in the Morning) were old, or if a Hare happen'd to cross his way, he instantly return'd home, shut himself up, and did believe that day to be unlucky; nor wou'd he dare to at­tempt [Page 119] Business of the smallest Conse­quence.

It is not just, said the Marquiese, that since that great Man was not free from the Fear of Eclipses for nothing, that the Inhabitants of that little Moon, shou'd come off at an easier rate: Let us give 'em no Quarter, but force 'em to submit to the common Law of Nature, and ob­lige 'em to yield to some other Folly. But since I will not trouble my self to guess at this time, what that may be, pray solve me one difficulty, which my Fancy has just now suggested; if the Earth be so little, in respect of Iupiter; does the Inhabitants of Iupiter see our Earth? I am afraid we are altogether unknown to 'em. Really, I believe it to be so, said I, for the Inhabitants of Iupiter must see the Earth ninety times less than Iupiter ap­pears to us; which is too small to be per­ceiv'd by them; and all we can imagine for our advantage, is, to suppose that there are Astronomers in Iupiter, who after having taken a great deal of Pains, and fitting excellent Telescopes; and having chosen a very clear Night for making the Observation, they at last discover in the [Page 120] Heavens a little Planet, they had never seen before; and streight they set it down in the Philosophical Transactions of that Country. The rest of the Inhabitants of Iupiter, either never hear of it, or laugh at it if they do; the Philosophers them­selves whose Opinion that discovery destroys, resolve not to believe it; and there are but some very rational People, that will trouble themselves with the thoughts of it. These Astronomers make new Observations; they again look upon this little Planet, and they begin to be assur'd that it is no Fancy but a real thing; then they begin to conclude, this little Planet has a Motion round the Sun; and after a thousand Observations, they at last find out that this Motion or Revolution, is performed in a Years time. So that, thanks to these learned Men, the Inhabi­tants of Iupiter know our Earth is a Pla­net and a World: The Curious are ear­nest to look on it through a Telescope; tho 'tis so little, 'tis hardly discovera­ble.

If it were not, said the Marquiese, ve­ry disagreeable for me to believe, that our Earth is not to be perceiv'd by the In­habitants [Page 121] of Iupiter, but by the help of a Telescope, I shou'd find an Infinite Pleasure in imagining, I shou'd see those Telescopes pointing towards us; and ours from a mutual Curiosity are levell'd at them, whil'st those two Planets gravely considering one another, the Inhabitants of both ask at one and the same time, What World is that? What People are those?

Don't go so fast, Madam, said I; sup­pose, the Inhabitants of Iupiter, cou'd see our Earth; yet, they cou'd never see us, or so much as suspect our Earth to be in­habited; or if any Body were Fool enough to imagine it, God knows, how he wou'd be laugh'd at and ridicul'd by the rest of the Inhabitants. And it may be, we are the Cause, that some Philosophers in that World have been sued and persecuted for this Opinion: However, I believe, that the Inhabitants of Iupiter are employed enough in the discovery of their own Planet, without troubling themselves with the thoughts of us. And had Chri­stopher Columbus been of that Country, and understanding Navigation so well, he cou'd not have wanted employment. [Page 122] And the People of that World know not the hundredth part of its own Inhabi­tants; whereas, in Mercury (which is a very little Planet) they are all Neighbours one to another, and converse familiarly together; and they esteem it, as but a Walk to go round their little World; and if the Inhabitants of Iupiter do not see us, you may easily judge, they can far less perceive Venus and Mercury, both which are more diminutive Worlds, and further distant from it than we: But in lieu of this, they see Mars, and there are four Moons, and Saturn with the five that belong to him. There are Planets e­nough, to perplex all the Astronomers there: And Nature has had the good­ness to hide from 'em what remains of the Universe.

What, said the Lady Marquiese, do you look upon that as a Favour? With­out doubt, said I, Madam, there is in this great Tourbillion or whirling of the Sun, Sixteen Planets. And Nature, who is willing to save us the labour of study­ing all their Motions, has discover'd to us only seven of them; and is not that a great Favour. But we who are not sen­sible [Page 123] of this Grace, have so ordered the matter that by our Endeavours we have found out the other nine, which Nature had conceal'd from us, and we are suffi­ciently punish'd for it, by the great Pains and Labour, which is at present re­quisite for the Study of Astronomy.

I see, answer'd she, by the number of sixteen Planets, that Saturn must have five Moons. He has so, said I, Madam, and two of the five are discover'd very lately, but there is yet something more remarkable in that Planet; for his Year is as long as thirty of ours; and conse­quently there are Climates in that World, where one Night lasts for fifteen Years together. Can you guess what Nature has intended for the enlightning of Nights so long and dreadful? She was not satis­fied to bestow on Saturn five Moons; but has also given him a great Circle or Ring, which environs him entirely, and which is elevated sufficiently high enough to be out of the shadow of this Planet. It reflects the Light of the Sun perpetu­ally upon the Inhabitants of Saturn, who have the Misfortune to live in that Cli­mate, that is, so long a time depriv'd of the influence of his Beams.

[Page 124]Well, said the Marquiese, (with the Air of a Person return'd to herself from some great astonishment) all that you say is contriv'd with wonderful Order, and sure Nature has seen and provided for the necessity of some animate Beings; and that the distribution of these Moons, was not a work of Chance, since they are bestowed only upon these Planets, that are at a great distance from the Sun, the Earth, Iupiter and Saturn; for Ve­nus and Mercury have no need on 'em; they enjoy but too much Light already; and their Nights are very short; and it may be the Inhabitants of this Planet esteem Night a greater benefit of Nature, than the Day it self. But hold, said Madam the Marquiese, it seems to me, that Mars, who is farther distant from the Sun than the Earth, ought to have a Moon too. I must confess, said I, Madam, he has none; but certainly, the Inhabitants of that Planet enjoy some other advan­tage, which supplies that defect. You have seen several bodies, both liquid and dry, which draw in the Light of the Sun; and afterwards shine and cast a light in the dark. It may be, that there are [Page 125] great Rocks very high; which are natu­rally of such a kind of Substance, as to receive great Provision of Light in the Day time from the Sun, which they re­store in the Night; and if it be so, you cannot deny, but it must be a very plea­sant Scene or Representation, to see all those Rocks from all Quarters begin to shine, as soon as the Sun is down, and make Magnificent Illuminations without Art or Expence. You know also that in A­merica, there are certain Birds, which shine so in the dark; that one may read by their Light, as well as by that of a Can­dle; and who knows, but there are ma­ny of these Birds in the Planet Mars, which fly about and enlighten that World as soon as the Sun is set?

Your Rocks, and your flying Birds, said the Marquiese, do not at all satisfie me. I confess such objects wou'd be very pretty; but since Nature has given so many Moons to Saturn and Iupiter; 'tis a sign, that they are absolutely necessary as well to Mars. I shou'd have been glad that all the Worlds distant from the Sun, cou'd have had their Moons; and that Mars might not have been so disagreeably [Page 126] excepted. Oh! Madam, said I, if you think it worth your pains to make any further Progress in Philosophy, you must accustom your self to such Exceptions; in the best Systems, there are always some things that agree exactly; but there are other things, that one must adjust as well as one can, or leave them as they are, if there be no hopes to overcome the difficulty: Let us do so if you please with Mars; and since he is not favoura­ble to us, say no more of him. And tell me if it wou'd not be strangely sur­prizing, if we were in the World of Sa­turn, to see above our Heads in the Night that great Ring in the form of a Semi-Circle, going from opposite Points of the Horizon; and which reflecting the Light of the Sun upon us, wou'd have the ef­fect of a continu'd Moon. And shall we place no Inhabitants upon that great Ring, said the Marquiese, laughing? I an­swer'd her, that (tho in the Humour I was in, I was enclin'd to put Inhabi­tants every where) I confess, I dare not set any upon so irregular a Habitation; but for the five little Moons, there is no dispensing with them, for they must have [Page 127] Inhabitants. But some do imagine, that this Ring or great Circle is compos'd of Moons join'd very near together, having all an equal Motion, and turning one way, and that the five little Moons I spoke of, had only escaped out of this great Ring; what an Infinity of Worlds are there then in the Tourbillion or whirlings of Saturn? and yet whatever is the Cause, the Inha­bitants of Saturn are miserable enough, notwithstanding the Assistance of this great Ring. 'Tis true, it gives them Light, but what kind of Light? Sure a very feeble one at that great distance from the Sun, where she her self appears to 'em, but as a little pale Star, a very faint heat and Light, so that if you wou'd carry some of the Inhabitants of Saturn to our coldest Countries, as Green-Land, or Lap-Land, you wou'd see 'em all of a sweat, and melt away with heat. You give me an Idea of Saturn, said the Mar­quiese; that makes me shiver with cold; whereas before you warm'd me as much with the descriptions you gave me of Mer­cury. There is a Necessity, said I, that the two Worlds that are at the extremity of this great Tourbillion, must be contrary [Page 128] one to another in every thing. At that rate, said she, the Inhabitants of Saturn must be very wise; for you told me the Inhabitants of Mercury were down-right mad. If the People of Saturn, said I, be not wise, they are at least in all Appea­rance so, and are very flegmatick, they know not what it is to laugh; and who take a whole days time at least, to answer the most trifling Question: They wou'd have look'd upon the grave Cato the Cen­sor, as too wild and youthful for their Con­versation.

There is a thought come into my Head, said the Marquiese; all the Inhabitants of Mercury are verly lively, and the Inhabi­tants of Saturn extremely dull: Now upon our Earth, we have a mixture of both, some are very airy, and some as in­sipid: Does not that proceed from our being situate in the middle, between these two Worlds, that we participate so of the Qualities of both these Extremes; and there is no fixt settled Character of Man­kind; some resemble the Inhabitants of Mercury, others of Saturn; and we are a mixture of all the several kinds of People, that inhabit all the other Planets? I like [Page 129] that Idea well enough, said I, we are of such an extravagant Composition, that one wou'd really believe, that we were collected and drawn together from all the other Worlds. And at this rate, 'tis very convenient to live in ours, since here we see an abridgement of all that can be seen in the other Worlds. At least, said the Marquiese, Our World has one real advantage and conveniency, that it is neither so hot as Mercury or Venus, nor so cold as Iupiter and Saturn: And we have the good luck over and above, to be born in a Climate of this Earth, that has neither excess of heat nor cold. And if a certain Philosopher thank'd Nature for being a Man and not a Beast, a Grecian, and not a Barbarian; for my Part, I thank her, that I inhabit the most tem­perate Planet of the Universe, and the most temperate Climate of that Planet. If you will trust me, said I, Madam, you ought to thank her for being young, and not old, young and handsome, and not young and ugly, young, handsome, and a French Woman, and not a young and handsome Italian. You have abundance of other Reasons of Gratitude, than those [Page 130] of the Situation of your Tourbillion, or the temperate Qualities of your Coun­try. Good God, said she, suffer me to be grateful for every thing; even to the very Tourbillion where I was born: The measure of the Happiness bestow'd upon us, is too little to lose any part of it; and it is good to have such a Sense and Taste of the commonest and most inconsidera­ble things, as to turn all to our Advan­tage and Profit. If we shou'd look after no other Pleasure or Satisfaction, than this World afforded, we shou'd enjoy but very few, expect 'em long, and pay dear for 'em. If Philosophy be the Pleasure, you propose, said I, Madam, I have the Boldness to wish, that when you remem­ber the Tourbillions, you wou'd be pleas'd to think of me. Yes, answer'd she, pro­vided you take care your Philosophy furnishes me always with new Pleasures. At least, for to Morrow, answer'd I, I hope you shall not want; for I have the fixed Stars prepared for you, which sur­pass all you have hitherto heard.

MY Lady Marquiese was very impa­tient to know what shou'd become of the fix'd Stars. Can they be inhabited as the Planets are, said she to me? or are they not inhabited? what shall we make of 'em? If you wou'd take the Pains, you cou'd not fail to guess, said I, Madam, the fixt Stars cannot be less distant from the Earth, than fifty Millions of Leagues; nay, some Astronomers make the distance yet greater; that between the Sun and the remotest Planet is nothing if compa­red to the distance between the Sun or Earth, and the fix'd Stars; we do not trouble our selves to number 'em, their Lustre as you see is both clear and bright. If the fix'd Stars, receive their Light from the Sun, it must certainly be very weak and faint before it comes to 'em, having passed through a hundred and fifty Milli­ons of Miles of the Celestial Substance, I spoke of before: Then consider, the fix'd Stars are oblig'd, to reflect this borrow'd Light upon us at the same distance, which [Page 132] in reason must make that Light yet paler and more faint, it is impossible that this Light if it were borrow'd from the Sun, and not only suffer'd a Reflection, but pass'd through twice the distance of a hundred and fifty Millions of Miles, cou'd have that Force and Vivacity, that we observe in the fix'd Stars: Therefore I conclude they are enlightned of them­selves; and are by consequence so many Suns. Do not I deceive my self, cry'd out the Marquiese, do I see whither you are going to lead me? Are you not about to tell me the fix'd Stars, are so many Suns, and that our Sun is the Center of a great Tourbillion which turns round him; what hinders but a fix'd Star may be the Center of a Tourbillion, whirling or turn­ing round it? Our Sun has Planets, which he enlightens, why may not every fix'd Star have Planets also? I have no­thing to answer, but what Phoedra said to Oenone, 'tis you that have hit it. But said she, I see the Universe to be so vast, that I lose my self, I know not where I am, and have conceived nothing all this while. What is the Universe thus divided into Tourbillions, confusedly cast together? [Page 133] Is every fixt Star the Center of a Tour­billion; and it may be full as big as our Sun? Is it possible, that all this Immense space, wherein our Sun and Planets have their Revolution, is nothing but an in­considerable part of the Universe? And that every fix'd Star must comprehend and govern an equal space with our Sun? This confounds, afflicts, and frightens me. And for my part, said I, it pleases and rejoices me; when I believ'd the U­niverse to be nothing, but this great A­zure Vault of the Heavens, wherein the Stars were placed, as it were so many gol­den Nails or Studs, the Universe seem'd to me too little and strait; I fansied my self to be confin'd and oppress'd: But now when I am perswaded, that this Azure Vault has a greater depth and a vaster Ex­tent, and that 'tis divided into a thousand and a thousand different Tourbillions or Whirlings, I imagine I am at more Li­berty, and breath a freer Air; and the Uni­verse appears to me to be infinitely more Magnificent. Nature has spared nothing in her Production, and hath profusely be­stow'd her Treasures upon a glorious Work worthy of her: You can represent [Page 134] nothing so august to your self, as this pro­digious Number of Tourbillions, whose Center is possess'd by a Sun, that makes the Planets turn round him. The Inhabi­tants of the Planets of any of these infi­nite Tourbillions, see from all sides the enlightned Center of the Tourbillion with which they are inviron'd; but can­not discover the Planets of another, who enjoy but a faint Light, borrow'd from their own Sun, which it does not dart further than its own Sphere or Activity. You show me, said the Marquiese, so vast a Prospect, that my sight cannot reach to the end of it: I see clearly the Inhabi­tants of our World; and you have plain­ly presented to my Reason the Inhabitants of the Moon, and other Planets of our Tourbillion or Whirling: After this you tell me of the Inhabitants of the Planets of all the other Tourbillions. I confess, they seem to me to be sunk into so bound­less a depth, that whatever force I put up­on my Fancy, I cannot comprehend 'em; and indeed you have annihilated 'em by the Expressions you made use of in speak­ing of 'em and their Inhabitants. You must certainly call 'em the Inhabitants [Page 135] of one of the Planets, of one of these infi­nite Tourbillions; and what shall be­come of us in the middle of so many Worlds; since the Title you give to the rest agrees to this of ours? And for my Part, I see the Earth so dreadfully little, that hereafter I shall scorn to be concern'd for any part of it. And I ad­mire why Mankind are so very fond of Power, so earnest after Grandure, laying design upon design, circumventing, be­traying, flattering, and poorly lying, and are at all this mighty Pains to grasp a part of a World they neither know nor understand, nor any thing of these migh­ty Tourbillions: For me, I'll lazily con­temn it, and my carelesness shall have this Advantage by my Knowledge, that when any Body shall reproach me with my Po­verty, I will with vanity reply, Oh! you do not know what the fix'd Stars are. I do believe, said I, Madam, that Alexander the Great himself did not know: For a certain Author who holds that the Moon is inhabited, says very gravely, that it was impossible, but Aristotle must be of so reasonable an Opinion (for how cou'd such a truth escape so great a Man as A­ristotle?) [Page 136] but that he wou'd never say any thing of it for fear of displeasing Alexan­der; for had he known there had been a World which he cou'd not have conquer'd, it wou'd have reduc'd him to certain De­spair. There was yet more Reason to conceal the Tourbillions of the fix'd Stars from him; if they had been known in those Days, he wou'd have made his Court very ill to that great Prince, who shou'd but have mention'd 'em. As for me who know 'em, I am very sorry I can draw no advantage from that Knowledge, which can cure nothing but Ambition and Disquiet, and none of these Diseases trou­ble me. I confess a kind of Weakness in Love, a kind of frailty for what is deli­cate and handsom, this is my Distemper, wherein the Tourbillions are not concern'd at all. The infinite Multitude of other Worlds may render this little in your E­steem, but they do not spoil fine Eyes, a pretty Mouth, or make the Charms of Wit ever the less: These will still have their true Value, still bear a price in spight of all the Worlds in the Universe.

It is a strange thing, said the Marquiese laughing, that Love saves himself from [Page 137] all Dangers, and there is no Systeme or Opinion can hurt him: But tell me frank­ly, are your Systemes certainly true? Do not dissemble, for I promise to keep it se­cret: I fansie 'tis founded upon a very small bottom, a fix'd Star enlightned of it self, as the Sun is, and therefore it must be a Sun, the Soul and Center of the World having Planets turning round it as that also has. Is this absolutely ne­cessary, says she? I fear, Madam, said I: Since we are always in the humour of mix­ing some little Gallantries with our most serious Discourses, give me leave to tell you, that Mathematical reasoning is in some things near a-kin to Love; and you can­not allow the smallest Favour to a Lover, but he will soon perswade you to yield another, and after that a little more, and in the end prevails entirely; so if you grant the least Principle to a Mathema­tician, he will instantly draw a conse­quence from it, which you must yield also, and from that another, and then a third, and maugre all your Resistance, in a short time, he will lead you so far, that you cannot retreat. These two sorts of Men, The Lover and Philosopher [Page 138] always take more than is given 'em. You must acknowledge that when I see two Objects alike in every thing that I do see, I have Reason to believe them to be also alike in what I see not; for where is the hindrance or difficulty? From thence I have argu'd that the Moon is inhabited because it is like the Earth; that the o­ther Planets are inhabited because they are like the Moon. I find that the fix'd Stars are like our Sun as to what I see; and therefore, I conclude they are Suns, and have Planets turning round about 'em; and every thing else we attribute to our Suns. Now, Madam, you are too far engag'd to retire; and therefore you must generously yield. By this rule of resemblance, said she, which you make betwixt our Sun and the fix'd Stars, the Inhabitants of another Tourbillion, must only see our Sun as a small fix'd Star, which only appears to them, during their Night. Without doubt, said I, Madam, our Sun is so near us, in respect of the Suns of the other Tourbillions, that his Light must have infinitely greater force upon our Sight than the Light of the o­ther Suns; when we see our Sun, we see [Page 139] nothing else, his brightness makes all o­ther things disappear: In another great Tourbillion, where another Sun governs, he in his turn removes and darkens our Sun, which does not appear, but in the Night as a fix'd Star amongst the other strange Suns (that is) fix'd Stars, and our Sun appears to the Inhabitants of that Tourbillion in the great Vault of the Hea­vens, as a Star of some Constellation, such as the Bear or the Bull: As to the Planets which turn round about him (as our Earth for example) since they can­not see it at so great a distance, they do not so much as think of it, so that all these Suns are Suns by day for the Tour­billion which they govern, and fix'd Stars by Night; for all the other, every one of them is the only one of his kind in his own World; but serve only to make up the Number of fix'd Stars for all the other Worlds. Notwithstanding, said she, of this Equality of Resemblance of the Worlds, yet I cannot believe, but they differ in a thousand things, for likeness upon the main does not hinder infinite little differences.

Most certainly, said I; but the diffi­culty [Page 140] will be, to find out those Differen­ces. What do I know but in one Tour­billion, there are more Planets turning round it than in another? In one there are Inferior Planets turning round the greater, in another there are none at all: In one Tourbillion the Planets are gather'd together, as it were a little Party, round their Sun, and beyond them a vast Vacui­ty, extending to the next Tourbillion; in another, the Planets take their Course to­wards the Extremity of their Tourbillion, and leave a Void in the middle, and I do not doubt but there are Tourbillions de­stitute of Planets; and others, where their Sun is not plac'd in the middle, and yet has a free Motion, and carries his Planets round with him; others, where the Pla­nets rise and fall in respect of their Sun, according to the Changes of the Coun­terpoise which balances 'em. What wou'd you have, Madam? Have not I said enough for a Man that was never out of his own Tourbillion?

No, said she, not for the quantity of Worlds which you say there is: What you have describ'd will suffice but for five or six, and I see thousands.

[Page 141]What wou'd you say, Madam, said I, if I shou'd tell you that there are infinitely more fixed Stars than those you see, that by the help of Telescopes an unaccounta­ble number are discover'd, which we can­not see with our Eyes alone; and that in one Constellation, where we counted but twelve or fifteen fixed Stars, there have been discover'd more than we see with our Eyes in the whole Heavens?

I ask your Pardon, said she; I yield and confess, you have over-charg'd me with Worlds and Tourbillions. Madam, said I, I have still a Reserve for you: You see that Whiteness in the Hemisphere, call'd The Milky Way; Can you imagine what it is? 'Tis nothing but an Infinity of lit­tle fixed Stars, which cannot be seen by our Eyes, because they are so very small, and are plac'd so near to one another, that they appear to be but one continued Whiteness: I wish you cou'd see this Ant­hill or Stars, and these Seeds of Worlds; they look like the Maldevia-Islands, or those twelve thousand little Isles, or Banks of Sand, separate only by small Canals of the Sea, which one may over-leap with as much Ease as a Ditch. So that these [Page 142] little Tourbillions of the Milky Way, being so near one to another, may converse and shake hands with those of their Neigh­bouring World; at least, the Birds of one World may fly into another; and they may teach Pidgeons to carry Letters, as they do in the Levant. By which, the Sun, in his own Tourbillion, as soon as he begins to spread his Light, he faceth that of all other Stranger-Suns; for if you were in one of these little Tourbillions of the Milky Way, your Sun wou'd not be so near to you; and by consequence, wou'd have but little more power, force, or in­fluence upon your Eyes, than a hundred thousand other Suns of the neighbouring Tourbillions; you wou'd then see your Heaven shining with an infinite number of Fires, very near to one another, and not far distant from you; and tho' you shou'd lose the sight of your own Sun, you wou'd still have Light enough, and your Nights wou'd be no less bright than your Days; at least, you wou'd not be sen­sible of the difference; or, to speak more properly, you wou'd have no Night at all: The Inhabitants of this World, accu­stom'd to perpetual Day, wou'd be strange­ly [Page 143] surpriz'd if one shou'd tell 'em, that there are several People in the Universe, who are under the Tribulation of dismal, real Nights, and who fall into long and profound Darknesses, and who, when the Light returns, behold one and the same Sun: They wou'd look upon such Peo­ple as the Out-casts of Nature, and the ve­ry Thoughts of our sad Condition wou'd sieze them with Horrour.

I do not ask you, said the Marquiese, whether there be any Moons in the World of the Milky Way; I see very well, that they wou'd be of no use to these Planets that have no Night; and who besides, move in too little Room to be troubled with an Equipage of inferior Planets. But do you know that by your multiplying upon me such a multitude of Worlds, you have started a great Difficulty to my Fan­cy, which, I doubt, you will hardly satis­fie: The Tourbillions, whose Suns we see touch the Tourbillions where we are, and all the Tourbillions are round, how is it possible that so many different Globes can touch one single one? This I wou'd wil­lingly understand, but find I cannot.

[Page 144]There's a great deal of Sense, said I, Ma­dam, in your proposing of this Difficul­ty, and no less in your not knowing how to salve it; for 'tis very judicious in it self, and unanswerable, as you understand it; and 'tis an Argument of very little Wit, to answer an Objection that is un­answerable. If our Tourbillion were in the shape of a Dy, it wou'd have six plain Superficies, and wou'd be very far from being round; yet upon every one of these six Superficies, or flat Sides, a Tourbillion might be plac'd, being of the same Figure: But instead of six flat sides, suppose it had twenty, fifty, or a thousand; then it were possible to place a thousand Tourbillions upon it, every Side bearing one; and you easily understand, that the more Superficies, or flat Sides any Body has, the nearer it approaches to a Globe: So a Diamond cut in Fossets on all sides, if those Fossets were very small, that Dia­mond wou'd be as round almost as a Pearl of the same bigness; the Tourbillions are only round in this sense, they are com­pos'd of an infinite number of flat Sides, and every one of 'em carries another Tour­billion: The flat Superficies are very un­equal; [Page 145] here they are big, there they are little; the smallest Superficies of our Tour­billion, for Example, answer to the Milky Way, and support all those little Worlds; but if two Tourbillions, that rest upon two neighbouring Sides or Faces, have any void space below between 'em (as that must fall out very often) Nature, who will lose nothing, and turns all her work to the best advantage, instantly fills up that Va­cuity with one, two, or it may be a thou­sand little Tourbillions, which does not at all trouble or incommode the rest, and yet every one of these may have a World in it; so that there may be more Worlds, than our Tourbillion has flat Sides to sup­port: And I dare say, that although these little Worlds were only made to fill up Chinks of the Universe, which other­wise wou'd have been useless, and that they are altogether unknown to the other Worlds which touch them; yet I doubt not but they are very well contented with their own Condition, and 'tis they whose little Suns we discover by the helps of Telescopes, whose number is so prodigi­ous. In fine, all these Tourbillions are so rightly adjusted, and join'd to one ano­ther [Page 146] in so delicate a Form, that every one turns round his own Sun, without chang­ing his Situation; every one takes that way of turning, which is most proper and commode to its place: They are fixed to one another like the Wheels of a Watch, assisting one another in their Motions, and yet moving contrary to one another. And 'tis said, that every World is like a Balloon, or Foot-ball, which swells and fills of it self, and which wou'd extend farther, if it were not hinder'd by neigh­bouring Worlds, who press it, and then it shrinks to its first form; after that, it swells a-new, and is again depress'd. And the Philosophers pretend, that the fixed Stars transmit to us a trembling Light, and an unequal Sparkling, because their Tourbillions push against ours, and ours against theirs.

I am extreamly in love, said the Mar­quiese, with these Idea's you give me of the Balloons, which swell and fall every Moment; and those Worlds, which are always justling together: But, above all, I am pleas'd to consider, that this Strife amongst 'em produces a Commerce of Light, which is the only Traffick they can have.

[Page 147]No, no, said I, Madam; that is not the only Traffick; the neighbouring Worlds send Envoys sometimes to us, and that with a great deal of Splendor: We have Comets from thence too, who are always adorn'd with shining Hair, a venerable Beard, and a Royal Train.

Good God! said the Marquiese, laugh­ing; What Ambassadors are these? We cou'd easily dispence with their Visits, for they do nothing but fright us. They fright only Fools and Children, Madam, said I; but of those Ignorants, I confess, there are a great number: The Comets are nothing but Planets which belong to some neighbouring Tourbillion, who make their Course toward the Extremity, or Out-side of it: But this Tourbillion being press'd by others that encompass it, 'tis rounder above than it is below, and it is from below that they appear to us. These Planets, which have begun to move in a Circle above, and not fore-seeing that their Tourbillion will sail 'em below, be­cause it is, as it were, braz'd or squeez'd in that part; these Planets, which we call Comets, are necessitated, for the Conti­nuance of their Circular Motion, to come [Page 148] into another Tourbillion, which happens sometimes to be ours, making their pas­sage through the Extremity of it: They all appear to us highly elevated, their Course being constantly above Saturn.

'Tis very necessary for the Defence of our System (for Reasons that do not at all relate to our present Subject) that there shou'd be a great vast space betwixt Saturn, and the Extremities of our Tour­billion, free from Planets. Our Adversa­ries do constantly reproach us with the unusefulness of this great Void; but let 'em not trouble their Heads with that, for we have found an Use for it; and it is the Appartment, or Chambers of State, where we receive the Stranger Planetary Ambassadors.

I understand you, said she, and am pleas'd with your Chamber of State; for we do not permit 'em to come directly in the middle of our Tourbillion, but receive 'em as the Grand Seignior does his Fo­reign Ministers; he does 'em not the Ho­nour to lodge 'em in Constantinople, but sends 'em to the Suburbs. Madam, re­ply'd I, we agree with the Turks also in one thing more; that is (as they) so we [Page 149] receive Ambassadors, but send none; for none of our Planets ever go to visit other Worlds. At this rate, said the Marquiese, we are very proud, yet I know not what to think of the matter; these Stranger-Planets, with their long Tails and Beards, have usually but a scurvy threatning Look, and it may be they are sent to terrifie us; whereas ours, not being made of that ter­rible Form, wou'd not be so proper to frighten People, were they sent into ano­ther World. These Tails and Beards, said I, are not real, but only Appearan­ces, and these Stranger-Planets differ in nothing from ours; but entring into our Tourbillion, they take a Tail, or a Beard from a certain kind of Illumination which they receive from the Sun; which, as yet, is not fully explain'd amongst us. But let this be found out when it can, we now are sure it is nothing but a kind of Illumi­nation, or false Light. I wish then, said the Marquiese, that our Saturn wou'd take a Tail, or a Beard, and go into some other Tourbillion, to frighten its Inhabitants; and that afterwards, laying aside this ter­rible Equipage, he wou'd return, with the rest of our Planets, to his own place. [Page 150] 'Twill be better for him, said I, not to go out of our Tourbillion: I have told you already of the Encounter between two Tourbillions pushing against one another; and I believe, upon that occasion, a poor Planet is strangely shaken, and that his Inhabitants are not the better for it. We believe our selves very miserable when we see a Comet appear, but it is the Comet it self that is most unhappy. I do not be­lieve that, said the Marquiese, for it brings its Inhabitants to us in good health; and you know, nothing is wholsomer than Change of Air: As for us that never go out of our own, Life languishes but dully on. If the Inhabitants of a Comet had but the Skill to fore-see their Passage into our World, those who have already made that Voyage will tell these new Adventu­rers what they will see in their way: A Planet, say they, which has a great Ring round him, meaning Saturn; and then you will see another that has four little ones following him, and it may be that amongst them there are People set a-part, on purpose for observing the very Minute when they shou'd enter into our World, and who are instantly to cry out, A new [Page 151] Sun! A new Sun! as our Mariners do, Land! Land! after a long Sea-Voyage. I hope you will no longer pity the Inha­bitants of a Comet; but, no doubt, you will commiserate those who live in a Tour­billion where the Sun comes to be extinct, and leaves them in Eternal Night. What! cry'd out Madam the Marquiese, Can Suns be extinguish'd? Yes, said I, with­out dispute. The Ancients have seen fix­ed Stars in the Firmament, which we see no more; these Suns have lost their Light: A great Desolation certainly for that Tourbillion, and a great Mortality for all the Inhabitants of its Planets; for there is no living without a Sun. That Idea, said she, is too mournful; Is there no way to pass it by? If you please, said I, Ma­dam, I'll tell you what very learned Men say; that the fixed Stars which have dis­appeared are not however extinguished, but that they are Half-Suns; that is to say, they have one side obscure, and the other englightned; and as they turn upon their own Axis, sometimes they present their enlightned half, and then we see 'em; and sometimes their obscure half, and then we lose 'em. To oblige you, [Page 152] Madam, I shall follow this Opinion, be­cause 'tis more favourable than the other; but it must only be for certain Stars, who have regular Seasons of appearing and disappearing, as hath been discover'd; otherwise these Half-Suns cannot subsist. But what shall we say of Stars that disap­pear, and do not shew themselves again after the time in which they ought cer­tainly to have perform'd the Revolution upon their own Axis? You are too just, Madam, to oblige me to believe that these Stars are Half-Suns: However, for your Satisfaction, I will endeavour to solve this Objection another way: Those Suns shall not be extinguish'd then, but shall only be sunk into the depth of the vast Hea­vens, which removes 'em from our sight; and in that Case, these Suns are follow'd by their Tourbillions, and all is well. 'Tis true, that the greatest part of the fixed Stars have no such Motion as carry them from us; if they had, they might as well approach more near us, and we shou'd see 'em sometimes bigger, sometimes less; which can never fall out: Let us there­fore suppose that there are some little Tourbillions of less Light and Activity, [Page 153] which slide in among the others, and make certain Turnings; after which, they come back again, whilst in the mean time the great Tourbillions remain where they did before; and 'tis a strange Mis­fortune that there shou'd be certain fixed Stars which appear to us, and after a great deal of time of appearing and dis-appea­ring, entirely vanish, and are lost. In that time the Half-Suns, I spoke of, wou'd appear again, and Suns that were sunk into the Heavens wou'd dis-appear once, and not to appear again for a long time. Resolve well what to think, Madam, and take Courage; there is a necessity that these Stars must be Suns, which grown ob­scure enough to be invisible to our sight, are afterwards enlightned, and in the end must lie extinguished. How! said the Marquiese; Can a Sun be obscur'd, or en­tirely extinguish'd, who is himself the Fountain of Light? The most easily in the World, said I, Madam: According to the Opinion of Des Cartes, our Sun has Spots; let 'em be Scum or Vapours, or what else you will, these Spots may con­dense, and many of 'em may come toge­ther, and form a kind of Crust, which [Page 154] may afterwards augment, and then fare­wel the Sun and all its Light. 'Tis said, we escap'd once very hardly, for the Sun was grown extreamly pale for several Years together; and particularly the Year after the Death of Iulius Caesar, it was that Crust that began to gather, and the Face of the Sun brake and dissipated it; but had it continu'd, we had been all un­done. You make me tremble, said the Marquiese; and now that I understand the Consequences of the paleness of the Sun, I shall henceforth every Morning, instead of going to my Looking-Glass to consult my own Face, go and look up to the Heavens to consider that of the Sun. Ma­dam, said I, be assur'd there goes a great deal of time to ruin a World. Then, said she, there is nothing requisite but Time. I acknowledge it, Madam, said I; all this vast Mass of Matter which composes the Universe, is in perpetual Motion, from which no part of it is entirely exempt; and therefore Changes must come sooner or later, but always in Time proportio­nable to the Effect. The Ancients were foolish to imagine, that the Celestial Bo­dies were of an unchangeable Nature, be­cause [Page 155] they never saw any Change in 'em; but they had neither Leisure nor Life long enough to undeceive themselves by Expe­rience; but the Ancients were young in respect of us. Suppose now, Madam, that the Roses, which last but for a Day, shou'd write Histories, and leave Memorials from one to another; the first wou'd have de­scrib'd the Picture of their Gardener of a certain manner; and after fifteen thou­sand Ages of Roses, the others that had follow'd 'em wou'd have alter'd nothing in that Description of the Gardener, but wou'd have said, We have always seen the same Gardener, since the Memory of Roses we have seen but him, he has always been as he is, he dies not as we do; nay, he chan­ges not, and certainly will never be other than what he is: Wou'd this way of argu­ing of the Roses be good? Yet it wou'd be better grounded than that of the An­cients, concerning Celestial Bodies; and tho' there had never happen'd any Change in the Heavens to this Day, and tho' they shou'd seem to last for ever, yet I wou'd not believe it, but wou'd wait for a longer Experience; nor ought we to measure the Duration of any thing by that of our own [Page] scanty Life. Suppose a thing had a Being a hundred thousand times longer than ours, shou'd we therefore conclude it shou'd last for ever? Eternity is not so ea­sie a matter; and some things must have pass'd many Ages of Men, one after ano­ther, before any sign of Decay had ap­pear'd in 'em. I am not so unreasonable, said the Marquiese, as to consider the Worlds as things eternal, nor will I do them the honour to compare 'em to your Gardener, who liv'd so many Ages lon­ger than the Roses: They are themselves but as a Rose, which are produc'd but in a Garden, that bud one Day, and fall the next; and as those Roses die, new ones succeed; so for some ancient Stars that dis-appear, other new ones are born in their places, and that Defect in Nature must be so repair'd, and no Species can totally perish. Some will tell you, they are Suns, which draw near to us after ha­ving been long lost in the depth of Hea­vens: Others will say, they are Suns that have cast off the Crust which began to cover them. If I cou'd easily believe all this, yet I shou'd believe also that the U­niverse was made in such a manner, that [Page 157] new Suns have been, and may be form'd in it from time to time; and what shou'd hinder the Substance proper to make Suns from gathering together, and producing new Worlds? And I am the more inclin'd to believe these new Productions, since they are more correspondent to the great Idea I have of the glorious Works of Na­ture: And why shou'd not she who knows the Secret to bring forth and destroy Herbs, Plants and Flowers, in a continu'd Succession, practise also the same Secret on the Worlds, since one costs her no more Pains and Expence than the other. Indeed, says the Marquiese, I find the Worlds, the Heavens and the Celestial Bodies so subject to change, that I am altogether returned to my self. Let us return yet more, said I, and if you please, make this subject no longer, that of our Discourse; besides you are arriv'd at the utmost bounds of Heaven; and to tell you, that there are any Stars beyond that, were to make my self a wiser Man than I am, place Worlds there, or place none there, it depends upon your Will. These vast invisible Regions, are proper­ly the Empires of Philosophers, which it [Page 158] may be are or are not, as they themselves shall fansie. 'Tis sufficient for me to have carried your Understanding as far as your sight can penetrate.

What, cry'd out the Marquiese, have I the Systemes of all the Universe in my Head, am I become so learned? Yes, Madam, you know enough; and with this Advantage, that you may believe all or nothing of what I have said, as you please. I only beg this as a Recompence for my pains, that you will never look on the Heavens, Sun, Moon or Stars, with­out thinking of me.