The First Evening.

WE went one Evening after Supper, to walk in the Park, the Air was extreamly refreshing, because that day had been very hot; the Moon had been up about an hour, and as she shone between the Trees, made an agree­ble mixture of Light and Darkness; the Stars were in all their Glory, and not a Cloud appear'd on the Azure Sky; I was [Page 4] musing on this awful Prospect, but who can think long of the Moon and Stars, in the Company of a Pretty Woman! I am much mistaken if that's a time for Contemplation: Well Madam, said I to the Countess, is not the Night as plea­sant as the Day? The Day, said she, like a fair Beauty, is clear and dazling; but the Night, like a brown Beauty, more soft and moving. You are Generous, Ma­dam, I reply'd, to prefer the Brown. You that have all the Charms that belong to the Fair: But is there any thing more Beautiful in Nature than the Day? The Heroines of Romances are generally fair, and that Beauty must be perfect, which hath all the advantages of imagi­nation. Tell not me, said she, of perfect Beauty, nothing can be so that is not moving. But since you talk of Roman­ces, why do Lovers in their Songs and Elegies address themselves to the Night? 'Tis the Night, Madam, said I, that crowns their Joys, and therefore de­serves their thanks. But 'tis the Night, said she, that hears their Complaints, [Page 5] and how comes it to pass, the day is so little trusted with their secrets? I con­fess, Madam, said I, the night hath somewhat a more melancholly Air, than the day; we fancy the Stars march more silently than the Sun, and our thoughts wander with the more liberty, whilst we think all the world at rest but our selves: Besides, the day is more uniform, we see nothing but the Sun, and light in the Firmament; whilst the night gives us variety of Objects, and shews us ten thousand Stars, which inspire us with as many pleasant Ideas. What you say is true, said she, I love the Stars, there is somewhat charming in them, and I could almost be angry with the Sun for effacing 'em. I can never pardon him, I cry'd, for keeping all those Worlds from my sight: What Worlds, said she, looking ear­nestly upon me, what Worlds do you mean?

I beg your Pardon, Madam, said I, you have put me upon my folly, and I begin to rave: what Folly, said she, I discover none? Alas, said I, I am asham'd, [Page 6] I must own it, I have had a strong Fancy every Star is a World. I will not swear it is true, but must think so, be­cause it is so pleasant to believe it; 'Tis a fancy come into my head, and is very diverting. If your folly be so diverting, said the Countess, Pray make me sensible of it; provided the Pleasure be so great, I will believe of the Stars all you would have me. It is, said I, a diversion, Madam, I fear you will not relish, 'tis not like one of Moliere's Plays, 'tis a Pleasure rather of the fancy than of the Judgment. I hope, reply'd she, you do not think me incapable of it; teach me your Stars, I will shew you the contra­ry. No, no, I reply'd, it shall never be said I was talking Philosophy at ten of the Clock at Night, to the most amia­ble Creature in the World, find your Philosophers somewhere else.

But in vain I excus'd my self, who could resist so many Charms? I was forc'd to yield, and yet I knew not where to begin; for to a Person who understood nothing of Natural Philo­sophy [Page 7] you must go a great way about to prove that the Earth may be a Planet, the Planets so many Earths, and all the Stars worlds; however to give her a general Notion of Philosophy, I at last resolv'd on this Method. All Philoso­sophy, said I, Madam, is founded upon two things, either that we are too short sighted, or that we are too curious; for if our eyes were better than they are, we should soon see whether the Stars were worlds or not; and if on the other side we were less curious, we should not care whether the Stars are Worlds or not, which I think is much to the same purpose. But the business is, we have a mind to know more than we see: And again, if we could discern well what we do see, it would be so much known to us: But we see things quite otherwise than they are. So that your true Philosopher will not believe what he doth see, and is alwaies conjecturing at what he doth not, which is a Life I think not much to be envy'd: Upon this I fancy to my self, that Nature very much resembleth an [Page 8] Opera, where you stand, you do not see the Stage as really it is; but it is plac'd with advantage, and all the Wheels and Move­ments are hid, to make the Representation the more agreeable: Nor do you trouble your self how, or by what means the Machines are moved, tho' certainly an Engineer in the Pit is affected with what doth not touch you; he is pleas'd with the motion, and is demonstrating to himself on what it depends, and how it comes to pass. This Engineer then is like a Philoso­pher, tho' the difficulty is greater on the Philosophers part, the Machines of the Theatre being nothing so curious as those of Nature, which disposeth her Wheels and Springs so out of sight, that we have been long a guessing at the movement of the Universe. Suppose then the Sages at an Opera, the Pithagoras's, the Plato's, the Aristotles, and all the Wise Men who have made such a noise in the World, for these many Ages: We will suppose 'em at the Representation of Phaeton, where they see the aspiring Youth lifted up by the Winds, but do not discover the [Page 9] Wires by which he mounts, nor know they any thing of what is done behind the Scenes. Would you have all these Philosophers own themselves to be stark Fools, and confess ingenuously they know not how it comes to pass: No, no, they are not called Wise Men for no­thing; tho', let me tell you, most of their Wisdom depends upon the ignorance of their Neighbours. Every man pre­sently gives his Opinion, and how im­probable so ever, there are Fools enough of all sorts to believe 'em: One tells you Phaeton is drawn up by a hidden Magne­tick Vertue, no matter where it lies; and perhaps the grave Gentleman will take pet, if you ask him the Question. Ano­ther says, Phaeton is compos'd of certain Numbers that make him mount; and after all, the Philosopher knows no more of those numbers than a sucking Child of Algebra: A third tells you, Phaeton hath a secret love for the top of the Theatre, and like a true Lover cannot be at rest out of his Mistresses Company, with an hundred such extravagant fan­cies, [Page 10] that a Man must conclude the Old Sages were very good Banterers: But now comes Monsieur Descartes, with some of the Moderns, and they tell you Phaeton ascends because a greater weight than he descends; so that now we do not believe a Body can move without it is push'd and forc'd by ano­ther body, and as it were drawn by Cords, so that nothing can rise or fall but by the means of a Counterpoise; he then that will see Nature really as she is, must stand behind the Scenes at the O­pera. I perceive, said the Countess, Phi­losophy is now become very Mechanical. So mechanical, said I, that I fear we shall quickly be asham'd of it; they will have the World to be in great, what a Watch is in little; which is very regular, and depends only upon the just disposing of the several parts of the movement. But pray tell me, Madam, had you not formerly a more sublime Idea of the Universe? Do you not think you did then honour it more than it deserv'd? For most have the less esteem of it since [Page 11] they have pretended to know it. I am not of their opinion, said she, I value it the more since I know it resembles a Watch, and the whole order of Na­ture the more plain and easie it is, to me it appears the more admirable.

I know not, said I, who hath in­spir'd you with these solid Notions, but I am certain there are few that have them besides your self, People general­ly admire what they do not compre­hend, they have a Veneration for Ob­scurity, and look upon Nature while they do not understand her, as a kind of Magick, and despise her below Le­gerdemain, when once they are ac­quainted with her; but I find you, Madam, so much better dispos'd, that I have nothing to do but to draw the Curtain, and shew you the World. That then which appears farthest from the Earth, (where we reside) is call'd the Heavens, that Azure Firmament where the Stars are fastned like so many Nails, and are call'd fix'd, be­cause they seem to have no other Mo­tion [Page 12] than that of their Heaven, which carries them with it self from East to West. Between the Earth and this great Vault (as I may call it) hang at different heights the Sun, and the Moon, with the other Stars, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, which we call the Planets; these Planets, not being fastned to the same Heaven, and having very unequal Motions, have di­vers Aspects and Positions. Whereas the fix'd Stars in respect to one ano­ther, are always in the same Situation: for Example, Charles's Wain which is compos'd of those seven Stars, hath been and ever will be as it now is, tho' the Moon is sometimes nearer to the Sun, and sometimes farther from it, and so it is with the rest of the Planets. Thus things appear'd to the old Caldoean Shepherds, whose great leisure did produce these first Obser­vations, which have since been the foundation of Astronomy, for Astro­nomy had its Birth in Caldoea, as Geo­metry was born in Egypt, where the [Page 13] Inundation of the Nile confounding the bounds of their Fields, was an occasi­on of their inventing exacter Measures to distinguish every ones Land from that of his Neighbour: So that Astro­nomy was the Daughter of Idleness, Geometry the Daughter of Interest; and if we did but examine Poetry, we should certainly find her the Daugh­ter of Love.

I am glad, said the Lady, I have learnt the Genealogie of the Sciences, and am convinc'd I must stick to A­stronomy, my Soul is not mercenary enough for Geometry, nor is it tender enough for Poetry; but I have as much time to spare as Astronomy requires, beside, we are now in the Countrey, and lead a kind of Pastoral life, all which suits best with Astronomy. Do not deceive your self, Madam, said I, 'tis not a true Shepherds life to talk of the Stars and Planets: See if they pass their time so in Astrea. That sort of Shepherds Craft, reply'd she, is too dangerous for me to learn: I love the [Page 14] honest Caldaeans, and you must teach me their Rules, if you would have me improve in their Science. But let us proceed, When they had rank'd the Heavens in that manner you tell me, pray, what is the next Question? The next, said I, is the disposing the seve­ral parts of the Universe, which the Learned call making a Systeme; but before I expound the first Systeme, I would have you observe, we are all na­turally like that Mad man at Athens, who fancy'd all the Ships were his that came into the Port Pyroeum: Nor is our Folly less extravagant, we be­lieve all things in Nature design'd for our use; and do but ask a Philosopher, to what purpose there is that prodigi­ous company of fix'd Stars, when a far less number would perform the service they do us? He answers coldly, they were made to please our Sight. Up­on this Principle they imagin'd the Earth rested in the Centre of the Uni­verse, while all the Celestial Bodies (which were made for it) took the [Page 15] pains to turn round to give light to it. They plac'd the Moon above the Earth, Mercury above the Moon, after Venus the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, above all these they set the Heaven of fix'd Stars, the Earth was just in the middle of those Circles which contain the Planets, and the greater the Cir­cles were, they were the farther di­stant from the Earth, and by conse­quence the farthest Planets took up the most time in finishing their course, which in effect is true: But why, said the Countess, interrupting me, do you dislike this Systeme? It seems to me very Clear and Intelligible. However, Madam, said I, I will make it plainer; for should I give it you as it came from Ptolomy its Author, or from some who have since study'd it, I should fright you, I fancy, instead of diverting you. Since the Motions of the Planets are not so regular, but that sometimes they go faster, sometimes slower, some­times are nearer the Earth, and some­times farther from it; the Ancients [Page 16] did invent I do not know how many Orbs or Circles involv'd one within a­nother, which they thought would salve all Objections; this confusion of Circles was so great, that at that time when they knew no better, a certain King of Arragon, a great Mathematician, but not much troubled with Religion, said, That had God consulted him when he made the World, he would have told him how to have fram'd it better. The fan­cy was very Atheistical, and no doubt the Instructions he would have given the Almighty, was the suppressing those Circles with which they had clog'd the Celestial Motions, and the taking away two or three superfluous Heavens which they had placed above the fixed Stars; for these Philosophers to explain the Mo­tion of the Celestial Bodies, had above the uppermost Heaven (which we see,) found another of Crystal, to influence and give Motion to the inferiour Hea­vens; and wherever they heard of a­nother Motion, they presently clapp'd up a Crystal Heaven which cost 'em [Page 17] nothing. But why must their Heaven be of Crystal, said the Countess, would nothing else serve as well? No, no, I reply'd, nothing so well; for the Light was to come thro' them, and yet they were to be solid. Aristotle would have it so, he had found Solidity to be one of their Excellencies, and when he had once said it, no body would be so rude as to question it. But it seems there were Comets much higher than the Philoso­phers expected, which as they pass'd along brake the Crystal Heavens, and con­founded the Universe. But to make the best of a bad Market, they presently melt down their broken Glass, and to Aristotles Confusion, made the heavens fluid; and by the observations of these latter Ages it is now out of doubt, that Venus and Mercury turn round the Sun, and not round the Earth, according to the Antient Systeme, which is now every where exploded, and all the Ipse Dixits not worth a rush. But that which I am going to lay down, will salve all, and is so clear, that the King of Arragon him­self [Page 18] may spare his Advice. Methinks, saith the Countess, your Philosophy is a kind of Out-cry, where he that offers to do the work cheapest, carries it from all the rest. 'Tis very true, said I, Nature is a great Huswife, she always makes use of what costs least, let the difference be never so inconsiderable; and yet this frugality is accompany'd with an extra­ordinary magnificence, which shines thro' all her works; that is, she is mag­nificent in the design, but frugal in the Execution; and what can be more praise worthy, than a great design accomplish'd with a little Expence? But in our Ideas we turn things topsy-turvy, we place our thrift in the design, and are at ten times more charge in Workmanship than it requires, which is very ridiculous: Imitate Nature then, saith she, in your Systeme, and give me as little trouble as you can to comprehend you. Fear it not, Madam, said I, we have done with our [...]mpertinencies: Imagine then a German [...]all'd Copernicus confounding every thing, [...]earing in pieces the beloved Circles of [Page 19] Antiquity, and shattering their Crystal Heavens like so many Glass Windows, seiz'd with the noble Rage of Astronomy, he snatcheth up the Earth from the Cen­tre of the Universe, sends her packing, and placeth the Sun in the Centre to which it did more justly belong, the Planets no longer turn round the Earth, and do not inclose it in the Circles they describe; if they give us light, it is but by chance, and as they meet us in their way. All now turns round the Sun, the Earth her self goes round the Sun, and Copernicus to punish the Earth for her former Lazy­ness, makes her contribute all he can to the motion of the Planets and Heavens, and now stripp'd of all the heavenly E­quipage with which she was so glori­ously attended, she hath nothing left her but the Moon, which still turns round about her: Fair and softly, saith the Countess, I fancy you your self are seiz'd with the Noble Fury of Astrono­my; a little less Rapture, and I shall un­derstand you the better. The Sun You say is in the Centre of the Universe, and [Page 20] is immovable; what follows next? It is Mercury, said I, he turns round the Sun, so that the Sun is the Centre of the Circle wherein Mercury moves; above Mercury is Venus, who turns also round the Sun; after comes the Earth, which being pla­ced higher than Mercury and Venus, makes a greater circle round the Sun than either of them; at last come Mars, Ju­piter, Saturn, in the same order I name 'em, so that Saturn hath the greatest circle round the Sun, which is the reason he is a longer time in making his Revo­lution than any of the other Planets. And the Moon, you have forgot her, said she: We shall quickly find her again, said I; the Moon turns round the Earth, and doth not leave her, but as the Earth ad­vanceth in the Circle, which she describes about the Sun, and if the Moon turns round the Sun, it is because she will not quit the Earth; I understand you, said she, and I love the Moon for staying with us when all the other Planets do abandon us; nay, I fear your German would have willingly taken her away [Page 21] too if he could, for in all his proceedings, I find he had a great spight to the Earth. 'Twas well done of him, said I, to abate the Vanity of Mankind, who had taken up the best place in the Universe, and it pleaseth me to see the Earth in the croud of the Planets. Sure, said she, you do not think their Vanity extends it self as far as Astronomy! Do you believe you have humbled me, in telling me the Earth goes round the Sun? For my part I do not think my self at all the worse for't. I confess, said I, Madam, I be­lieve a Fair Lady would be much more concern'd for her place at a Ball, than for her rank in the Universe; and the Pre­cedence of two Planets will not make half such a noise in the World, as that of two Ambassadours; however the same inclination which reigns at a Ceremony, governs in a Systeme, and if you love the uppermost place in the one, the Philoso­pher desires the Centre in the other; he flatters himself that all things were made for him, and insensibly believes a matter of pure speculation to be a point of Inte­rest. [Page 22] This is a Calumny, said she, you have invented against Mankind; why did they receive this Systeme if it was so abasing? I know not, said I, but I am sure Copernicus himself distrusted the suc­cess of his Opinion, he was a long time before he would venture to publish it, nor had he done it then without the im­portunity of his Friends. But do you know what became of him? the very day they brought him the first Proof of his Book, he dy'd; he foresaw he should never be able to clear all the contradicti­ons, and very wisely slipt out of the way. I would be just to all the World, said the Countess; but 'tis hard to fancy we move and yet see we do not change our place; we find our selves in the Morning where we lay down at Night: Perhaps you will tell me the whole Earth moves—Yes cer­tainly, said I, it is the same case as if you fell asleep in a Boat upon the River, when you awake you find your self in the same place, and the same situation in respect of all the parts of the Boat. 'Tis true, she reply'd, but here's a great diffe­rence [Page 23] when I awake I find another shoar, and that shows me, my Boat hath chang'd place. But 'tis not the same with the Earth, I find all things as I left 'em. No, no, said I, there is another Shoar too; You know that beyond the circles of the Planets are fix'd Stars, there is our Shoar. I am upon the Earth, and the Earh makes a great circle round the Sun, I look for the centre of the circle and see the Sun there, I then direct my sight beyond the Sun in a right Line, and should certainly discover the fix'd Stars which answer to the Sun, but that the light of the Sun effaceth 'em: But at Night I easily per­ceive the Stars which corresponded with him in the day, which is exactly the same thing; if the Earth did not change its place in the Circle where it is, I should see the Sun always against the same fix'd Stars, but when the Earth doth change its place, the Sun must an­swer to other Stars and there again is your Shoar, which is always changing. And seeing the Earth makes her circle in a year, I see the Sun likewise in the [Page 24] space of a year answer successively to the whole Circle of the fix'd Stars, which Circle is call'd the Zodiack: I will draw you the Figure of it, if you please, on the Sand? 'Tis no matter, said she, I can do well enough with­out it; beside, it will give an Air of Learning to my Park which I would not have in it: For I have heard of a certain Philosopher, who being Shipwrack'd, and cast upon an unknown Island, seeing several Mathematical Fi­gures trac'd on the Sea-shore, cry'd out to those that follow'd him, Courage, Courage, my Companions, the Isle is inhabited, behold the Footsteps of Men; But you may spare your Figures, such Footsteps are not decent here.

I confess, said I, Madam, the footsteps of Lovers would better be­come this Place; that is, your Name and Cypher grav'd on the Trees by your Adorers. Tell not me, said she, of Lovers and Adorers, I am for my beloved Sun and Planets. But how comes it to pass that the Sun as to the [Page 25] fixed Stars compleats his course but in a year, and yet goes over our Heads every day? Did you never, I reply'd, observe a Bowl on a Bowling-green? It runs towards the Block, and at the same time turns very often round it self, so that the Parts which were above are below, and those which were below are above; just so it is with the Earth, at the same time that she advanceth on the Circle which in a years space she makes round the Sun, in twenty four hours she turns round her self; so that in twenty four hours every part of the Earth loseth the Sun, and recovers him again, and as it turns towards the Sun, it seems to rise, and as it turns from him, it seems to fall. It is very plea­sant, said she, that the Earth must take all upon her self, and the Sun do no­thing. And when the Moon, the other Planets, and the fix'd Stars seem to go over our Heads every twenty four hours, you'll say that too is only Fan­cy? Pure Fancy, said I, which pro­ceeds from the same cause, for the Pla­nets [Page 26] compleat their courses round the Sun at unequal times, according to their unequal distances, and that which we see to day answer to a certain Point in the Zodiack or Circle of the fix'd Stars, to morrow we see answer to a­nother Point, because it is advanced on its own Circle as well as we are ad­vanced upon ours. We move, and the Planets move too, which must make a great alteration; so that what seems irregular in the Planets, proceeds only from our motion, when in truth they are all very regular: I will suppose 'em so, said the Countess, but I would not have their Regularity put the Earth to so great trouble; methinks you exact too much Activity from so ponderous a Mass. But, said I, had you rather that the Sun and all the Stars, which are vast great Bodies, should in twen­ty four hours travel such an infinity of Miles, and make so prodigious a Tour as they needs must, if the Earth did not turn round it self every twenty four hours? Oh, said she, the Sun and [Page 27] the Stars are all Fire, their Motion is not very difficult; but the Earth, I fan­cy, is a little unweildy: That signifies nothing, I reply'd, for what do you think of a first rate Ship, which carries near an hundred Guns, and a thousand Men, beside her Provisions and other Furniture? you see one puff of Wind makes it sail on the Water, because the Water is liquid, and being easily separa­ted doth very little resist the motion of the Ship: So the Earth tho' never so Massive is as easily born up by the Celestial Matter, which is a thousand times more fluid than the Water, and fills all that great Space where the Pla­nets float; for where would you the Earth should be fastned to resist the mo­tion of the Celestial Matter, and not be driven by it? You may as well fancy a little block of Wood can with­stand the current of a River. But pray, said she, how can the Earth with all its weight be born up by your Celestial Matter, which must be very light, be­cause it is so fluid? It doth not argue, [Page 28] said I, that what is most fluid is most light: for what think you of the great Vessel I mention'd but now, which with all its Burthen is yet lighter than the Water it floats on? I will have no­thing to do with that great Vessel, said she, and I begin to apprehend my self in some danger on such a whirlegigg as you have made of the Earth: There is no danger, I reply'd; but Madam, if you are afraid, we will have the Earth supported by four E­lephants, as the Indians believe it. Hey day, cry'd she, here's another Systeme; however I love those People for taking care of themselves, they have a good Foundation to trust to, while you Co­pernicans are a little too venturous with the Celestial Matter; and yet I fancy if the Indians thought the Earth in the least danger of sinking, they would double their number of Ele­phants. They do well, said I, laugh­ing at her fancy, who would sleep in Fear? and if you have occasion for 'em to night, we will put as many as [Page 29] you please in our Systeme, we can take 'em away again by degrees as you grow better confirm'd. I do not think 'em very necessary, said she, I have courage enough to turn. You shall turn with pleasure, Madam, said I, and shall find delightful Ideas in this Sy­steme. For Example, sometimes I fan­cy my self suspended in the Air, with­out any motion, while the Earth turns round me in twenty four hours; I see I know not how many different Faces pass under me, some white, some black, and some tauny; sometimes I see Hats, and sometimes Turbants, now Heads with Hair, and then shav'd Heads; here I see Cities with Steeples, others with Spires and Crescents, others with Towers of Purcelain, and anon great Countreys with nothing but Cottages; here. I see vast Oceans, and there most horrible Desarts; in short, I discover the infinite variety which is upon the surface of the Earth. I confess, said she, twenty four hours would thus be very well bestow'd, so that in the same Place [Page 30] where we are now, I do not mean in the Park, but we will suppose our selves in the Air, other People continually pass by who take up our Place, and at the end of twenty four hours we re­turn to it again.

Copernicus himself, said I, could not have comprehended it better: First then, we see some of our Neighbours pas­sing by us, up to the Ears in Politicks, yet settling their Nation no better than we do the World in the Moon; then follows a great Sea, perhaps a Fleet of Ships, perhaps a Makrel-Boat, no mat­ter whether; then come some of the I­roquois going to eat a Prisoner for their Breakfast, who seems as little concern'd as his Devourers: After appear the Wo­men of the Land of Jesso, who spend all their time in dressing their Hus­bands Dinners and Suppers, and paint­ing their Lips and Eye-brows blue, on­ly to please the greatest Villains in the World: Then the fair Circassians, who are very free of their Favours, and grant all to the first Comer, except a [Page 31] little they reserve for their Husbands; then the Tartars going to steal Concu­bines for the Turks and Persians; and at last our own dear Countrymen, it may be in some points as ridiculous as the best of 'em. It is very pleasant, said the Countess, but to imagine what you tell me, tho' if I was above, and saw all this, I would have the Liberty to hasten or retard the motion of the Earth, according as the Objects pleas'd me more or less, and I assure you I should quickly send packing the Polititians and Man­eaters, but should have a great curiosity for the Fair Circassians, for methinks they have a custom very particular. They are so extreamly Beautiful, said I, that their Husbands have enough, and to spare to a Stranger. I fear then, said she, the Women of our Country are very ugly, in respect of those Fair Ladies, for the Husbands part with nothing here, but keep all to them­selves. 'Tis because they make more use, I reply'd, of—Hold your peace, said she, and no more of your Fooleries, [Page 32] I have a difficulty to clear, and you must be serious. As the Earth moves, the Air changeth every moment, so we breathe the Air of another Country: Not at all, I reply'd, for the Air which encompasseth the Earth, doth not extend above a certain height, perhaps 20 leagues it follows us and turns with us: Have you not seen the work of a Silk-Worm, the Shells which those little Animals impri­son themselves in, and weave with so much Art; they are made of a Silk very close, but are covered with a Down very slack and soft: So the Earth which is solid, is covered from the surface 20 Leagues upwards, with a kind of Down, which is the Air, and all the Shell of the Silk-Worm turns at the same time: Be­yond the Air is the Celestial Matter, in­comparably more pure and subtile, and much more agitated than the Air: Your comparison, said, she, is somewhat mean, and yet what wonders are wrought, what Wars, what Changes in this little Shell? 'Tis true, I reply'd, but Nature takes no notice of such little particular [Page 33] Motions, but drives us along with the general motion, as if she were at Bouls. Methinks, said she, 'tis very ridiculous to be upon a thing that turns, and yet not be well assur'd that it doth turn; and to tell you the Truth, I begin to distrust the Reasons you give, why we should not be sensible of the Motion of the Earth; for is it possible there should not some little mark be left, by which we might perceive it?

All Motions, said I, the more com­mon and Natural they are, are the less perceptible, and this holds true even in Morality; the motion of self Love is so natural to us, that for the most part we are not sensible of it, and we believe we act by other Principles: You are Mora­lizing, said she, to a question of Natu­ral Philosophy: But 'tis enough for the first time, let us now go home, and meet here again to Morrow; you with your Systemes, and I with my ignorance.

In returning back to the Castle, that I might say all I could on the Subject, I told her of a third Systeme, invented by [Page 34] Ticho Brahe, who had fix'd the Earth in the Centre of the World, turn'd the Sun round the Earth, and the rest of the Pla­nets round the Sun; for since the new discoveries, there was no way left to have the Planets turn round the Earth. But the Countess, who had a quick apprehen­sion, said, she thought it was too affected, among so many great Bodies, to exempt the Earth only from turning round the Sun; that it was improper to make the Sun turn round the Earth, when all the Planets turn round the Sun; and that tho' this Systeme was to prove the immo­bility of the Earth, yet she thought it very improbable: So we resolv'd to stick to Copernicus, whose opinion we thought most Uniform, Probable, and Diverting.

The Second Evening.

IN the Morning, I sent to the Coun­tess's Apartment, to know how she had rested, and whether the Motion [Page 35] of the Earth had not disturb'd her? she answer'd, she began to be accustom'd to it, and that she had slept as well as Copernicus himself: Soon after there came some Neighbours to dine with her, but they went away in the Eve­ning; so that after Supper we walk'd a­gain into the Park, and immediately fell upon our Systemes. She so well con­ceiv'd what I told her the night be­fore, that she desir'd I would proceed without any repetition. Well, Madam, said I, Since the Sun, which is now immoveable, hath left off being a Pla­net; and the Earth, which turns round him, is now become one, you will not be surprized when you hear that the Moon is an Earth too, and that she is inhabited as ours is. I confess, said she, I have often heard talk of the World in the Moon, but I always look'd upon it as Visionary and meer Fancy. And it may be so still, said I. I am in this case as People in a Civil War, where the un­certainty of what may happen makes 'em hold intelligence with the opposite [Page 36] Party; for tho' I verily believe the Moon is inhabited, I live civilly vvith those who do not believe it; and I am (as some honest Gentlemen in point of Religion) still ready to embrace the prevailing Opinion, but till the Un­believers have a more considerable Ad­vantage, I am for the People in the Moon.

Suppose there had never been any Communication between London and Greenwich, and a Cockney, who was ne­ver beyond the Walls of London, saw Greenwich from the top of the Pyramid; you ask him if he believes Greenwich is inhabited as London is? He presently answers, No; for, saith he, I see People at London, but none at Greenwich; nor did I ever hear of any there: 'Tis true, you tell him, that from the Pyramid he cannot perceive any Inhabitants at Green­wich, because of the distance; but all that he doth discover of Greenwich very much resembleth what he sees at Lon­don, the Steeples, Houses, Walls; so that it may very well be inhabited as London [Page 37] is; all this signifies nothing, my Cock­ney still persists Greenwich is not inha­bited, because he sees no body there. The Moon is our Greenwich, and every one of us as meer Cockneys as he that never was out of the sound of Bow-Bell. You are too severe, said she, up­on your Fellow-Citizens; we are not all sure so silly as your Cockney; since Greenwich is just as London is, he is a Fool if he doth not think it inhabited: But the Moon is not at all like the Earth. Have a care what you say, I reply'd, for if the Moon resembleth the Earth, you are under a necessity to believe it inhabited. If it be so, said she, I own I cannot be dispens'd from believing it, and you seem so confident of it, that I fear I must, whether I will or no. 'Tis true, the two Motions of the Earth (which I could never imagine till now) do a little stagger me as to all the rest: But yet how is it possible the Earth should enlighten as the Moon doth, without which they cannot be alike? If that be all, said I, the difference is [Page 38] not great, for 'tis the Sun which is the sole Fountain of Light; that Quality proceeds only from him, and if the Pla­nets give Light to us, it is because they first receive it from the Sun; the Sun sends Light to the Moon, and she re­flects it back on the Earth; the Earth in the same manner receives Light from the Sun, and sends it to the Moon; for the Distance is the same between the Earth and the Moon, as between the Moon and the Earth. But is the Earth, said the Countess, as fit to send back the Light of the Sun as the Moon is? You are altogether for the Moon, said I, she is much oblig'd to you; but you must know that Light is made up of certain little Balls, which rebound from what is solid, but pass through what ad­mits of an entrance in a right Line, as Air or Glass: So that, that which makes the Moon enlighten us, is that she is a Firm and Solid Body, from which the little Balls rebound; and we must deny our Senses, if we will not allow the Earth the same Solidity; in short, the [Page 39] Difference is how we are seated, for the Moon being at so vast a Distance from us, we can only discover her to be a Body of Light, and do not perceive that she is a great Masse, altogether like the Earth: Whereas on the contrary, because we are so near the Earth, we know her to be a great Masse, but do not discover her to be a Body of Light, for want of the due distance: It is just so with us all, said the Countess, we are dazled with the Quality and Fortune of those who are above us, when, do but look to the Bottom, and we are all a­like.

Very true, said I, we would judge of all things, but still stand in the wrong place; we are too near to judge of our selves, and too far off to know others: So that the true way to see things as they are, is to be between the Moon and the Earth, to be purely a Spectator of this World, and not an In­habitant. I shall never be satisfy'd, said she, for the Injustice we do the Earth, and the too favourable opinion we have [Page 40] of the Moon, till you assure me that the People in the Moon are as little ac­quainted with their Advantages, as we are with ours, and that they take our Earth for a Planet, without knowing theirs is one too. Do not doubt it, said I, we appear to them to perform very regularly our function of a Planet: 'Tis true, they do not see us make a Circle round them, but that is no great mat­ter. That half of the Moon which was turn'd towards us at the beginning of the World, hath been turn'd towards us ever since; the Eyes, Mouth, and Face which we have fancy'd of the Spots in her, are still the same, and if the other opposite half should appear to us, we should no doubt fancy another Figure from the different Spots that are in it: Not but that the Moon turns upon her self, and in the same time that she turns round the Earth, that is in a Month; but while she is making that turn upon her self, and that she should hide a cheek for Example, and appear somewhat else to us, she makes a like part of her Circle [Page 41] round the Earth, and still presents to us the same Cheek; so that the Moon, who in respect of the Sun and Stars turns round her self, in respect of us doth not turn at all; they seem to her to rise and set in the space of fifteen Days; but for our Earth, it appears to her to be held up in the same place of the Hea­vens: 'Tis true, this apparent Immobi­lity is not very agreeable for a Body which should pass for a Planet, but it is not altogether perfect, the Moon hath a kind of trembling, which causeth a little corner of her Face to be sometimes hid from us, and a little corner of the opposite half appears; but then upon my word, she attributes that trembling to us, and fancies that we have in the Heavens the motion of a Pendulum, which vibrates to and fro.

I find, saith the Countess, the Planets are just like us; we cast that upon o­thers which is in our selves; the Earth saith, 'Tis not I that turn, 'tis the Sun; the Moon saith, 'tis not I that shake, 'tis the Earth; there is a great deal of [Page 42] errour every where. But I would not advise you, said I, to undertake the reforming it; you had better convince your self of the entire resemblance of the Earth and the Moon: Imagine then these two great Bowls held up in the Heavens, you know that the Sun always enlightens the one half of a Bo­dy that is round, and the other half is in the Shadow; there is then one half of the Earth and one half of the Moon which is enlightned by the Sun; that is, which hath Day, and the other half which is Night. Observe also, that as a Ball hath less force after it hath been struck against a Wall which sends it to the other side, so Light is weakned when it is reflected. This pale Light which comes to us from the Moon, is the very Light of the Sun, but it can­not come to us from the Moon but by reflection; it hath lost much of the Force and Lustre it had when it came directly from the Sun upon the Moon; and that bright Light which shines directly upon us from the Sun, and which the Earth [Page 43] reflects upon the Moon, is as pale and weak when it arrives there; so that the Light which appears to us in the Moon, and which enlightens our Nights, is the parts of the Moon which have Day, and that part of the Earth which hath Day, when it is opposite to the part of the Moon which hath Night, gives Light to it: All depends upon how the Moon and the Earth behold one another. At the beginning of the Month we do not see the Moon, be­cause she is between the Sun and us; that half of her which hath Day, is then turn'd towards the Sun, and that half which hath Night, turn'd towards us; we cannot see it then, because it hath no Light upon it; but that half of the Moon which hath Night, being turn'd to the half of the Earth which hath Day, sees us without being per­ceiv'd, and we then appear to them just as the full Moon doth to us; so that, as I may say, the People of the Moon have then a full Earth; but the Moon being advanc'd upon her Circle [Page 44] of a Month, comes from under the Sun, and begins to turn towards us a little corner of the half which is Light, there's the Crescent; then those parts of the Moon which have Night do not see all the half of the Earth which hath Day, and we are then in the Wayn to them.

I comprehend you very well, said the Countess, the People in the Moon have a Month quite contrary to us; when we have a full Moon, their half of the Moon which is light, is turn'd to our half of the Earth which is dark; they do not see us at all, and they have then a new Earth, this is plain. But now tell me how come the Eclip­ses? You may easily guess that, said I, when it is new Moon, that she is between the Sun and us, and all her dark half is turn'd towards us who have Light, that obscure shadow is cast upon us, if the Moon be directly un­der the Sun, that shadow hides him from us, and at the same time obscures a part of that half of the Earth which [Page 45] is light, which was seen by that half of the Moon which was dark, here then is an Eclipse of the Sun to us during our Day, and an Eclipse of the Earth to the Moon during her Night. When it is full Moon, the Earth is between her and the Sun, and all the dark half of the Earth is turn'd towards all the light half of the Moon; the shadow then of the Earth casts it self towards the Moon, and if it falls on the Moon, it obscures that light half which we see, which hath then Day, and hinders the Sun from shining on it: Here then is an Eclipse of the Moon to us during our Night, and an Eclipse of the Sun to the Moon during her Day: But the reason that we have not Eclipses every time that the Moon is between the Sun and the Earth, or the Earth between the Sun and the Moon, is, because these three Bodies are not exactly plac'd in a right Line, and by Consequence that that should make the Eclipse, casts its sha­dow a little beside that which should be obscur'd.

[Page 46]I am surpriz'd, said the Countess, that there should be so little mystery in E­clipses, and that the whole World should not know the Cause of 'em. Nor never will, said I, as some People go about it. In the East Indies, when the Sun and the Moon are in Eclipse, they be­lieve a certain Devil who hath black Claws is seising on those Planets with his Talons, and during that time the Rivers are cover'd with the Heads of Indians, who are up to the Neck in Water, because they esteem it a very devout Posture, to implore the Sun and the Moon to defend themselves against the Devil. In America they are persua­ded that the Sun and the Moon, when Eclipsed, are angry, and what is it they will not do to be reconciled with them? The Greeks, who were so refin'd, did they not believe the Moon was enchant­ed, and that the Magicians forc'd her to descend from Heaven, and shed a dan­gerous juice on the Plants? Nay, in what a pannick Fear were we in above thirty years ago at an Eclipse of the [Page 47] Sun? How many People hid themselves in their Cellars, and all the Philoso­phers of Gresham could not perswade them to come out till the Eclipse was over?

Methinks, said she, 'tis scandalous for Men to be such Cowards; there ought to be a general Law of Mankind to prohibit the discoursing of Eclipses, that we might not call to mind the Follies that have been said and done upon that Subject. Your Law then, said I, must abolish even the Memory of all things, and forbid us to speak at all, for I know nothing in the World which is not a Monument of the Folly of Man.

But what do you think, said she, of the People in the Moon, are they as a­fraid of an Eclipse as we are? It would be very burlesque for the Indians there to be up to the Neck in Water; that the Americans should believe the Earth angry with them; the Greeks fancy we were bewitch'd, and would destroy their Plants; in short, that we should cause the same Consternation among them, as [Page 48] they do here. And why not, said I? I do not doubt it at all; for why should the People of the Moon have more Wit than we? What right have they to affright us, and not we them? For my part, I believe that since a prodi­gious company of Men have been and still are such Fools to adore the Moon, there are People in the Moon that wor­ship the Earth, and that we are upon our knees the one to the other. But sure, said she, we don't pretend to send any Influences to the Moon, and to give a Crisis to her sick; if the People have any Wit in those Parts, they will soon destroy the Honour we flatter our selves with, and I fear, we shall have the disadvantage.

Fear it not Madam, said I; do you think we are the only Fools of the U­niverse? Is it not consistent with Igno­rance to spread it self every where? 'Tis true, we can only guess at the Folly of the People in the Moon, but I no more doubt it, than I do the most au­thentick News that comes from thence. [Page 49] What News comes from thence, said she? That which the Learned bring us, I reply'd, who travel thither every day with their Tubes and Tellescopes: they will tell you of their Discoveries there, of Lands, Seas, Lakes, high Mountains, and deep Abysses.

I fancy indeed, said she, they may dis­cover Mountains and Abysses, because of the remarkable inequality; but how do they distinguish Lands and Seas? Very easily, said I, for the Waters letting part of the Light pass thro' them, send back but a very little, so that they ap­pear afar off like so many dark Spots; whereas the Lands being solid, reflect the whole Light, and appear to be more bright and shining: Nay, they pretend to be so well acquainted with the seve­ral parts that they have given them all Names; one place they call Copernicus, a­nother Archimedes, another Galileus; there is the Caspian Sea, the Black Lake, the Porphirite Mountains; in short, they have publish'd such exact descriptions of the Moon, that a very Almanack-ma­ker [Page 50] will be no more to seek there, than I am in London.

I must own then, said the Countess, they are very exact; but what do they say to the inside of the Country? I would very fain know that. 'Tis im­possible, I reply'd, Mr. Flamsted himself, (one of the most Learned Astrono­mers of our Age) cannot inform you. You must ask that of Astolfo, who was carried into the Moon by St. John. I am going to tell you one of the agreeable Follies of Ariosto, and I am confident you will be well pleas'd to hear it: I must confess he had better have let alone St. John, whose Name is so worthy of Respect, but 'tis a Poetical License, and must be allow'd. The Po­em is dedicated to a Cardinal, and a great Pope hath honour'd it with his Approbation, which is prefix'd to seve­ral of the Editions; this is the Argu­ment, Rowland Nephew to Charlemagne, falls mad because the fair Angelica prefers Medore before him. Astolfo a Knight Errant, finding himself one day in the [Page 51] terrestrial Paradise, which was upon the top of a very high Mountain, whereto he was carry'd by his flying Horse, meets St. John there, who tells him, if he would have Rowland cured, he must make a Voyage with him into the Moon. Astolfo, who had a great mind to see Countrys, did not stand much upon en­treaty, and immediately there came a fiery Chariot which carry'd the Apostle and the Knight up into the Air; Astol­fo being no great Philosopher, was sur­priz'd to find the Moon so much bigger than it appear'd to him when he was upon the Earth; to see Rivers, Seas, Mountains, Cities, Forrests, nay, what would have surpriz'd me too, Nymphs hunting in those Forrests; but that which was most remarkable, was a Valley where you might find any thing that was lost in our World, of what nature soever; Crowns, Riches, Fame, and an infinity of Hopes, the time we spend in Play, and in searching for the Philosophers Stone, the Alms we give after our Death, the Verses we present to great Men and [Page 52] Princes, and the Sighs of Lovers. I know not, said she, what became of the Sighs of Lovers in the time of A­riosto, but I fancy there are very few of 'em ascend to the Moon in our days. Ah Madam, I reply'd, how many doth the Countess of D—r send thither every day? those that are address'd to her, will make a considerable Heap; and I assure you the Moon keeps all safe that is lost here below. Yet I must tell you Ariosto doth but whi­sper it, tho' every thing is there, even to the donation of Constantine, (i. e.) the Popes have pretended to be Masters of Rome and Italy by Virtue of a Dona­tion which the Emperour Constantine made Silvester; and the truth is, no body knows what is become of it; but what do you think is not to be found in the Moon? Folly, all that e­ver was upon the Earth is kept there still, but in lieu of it, it is not to be imagin'd how many Wits (if I may so call 'em) that are lost here, are got up into the Moon, they are so many [Page 53] Vials full of a very subtile Liquor, which evaporates immediately if it be not well stopp'd; and upon every one of these Vials the Names are written to whom the Wits belong; I think Ari­osto hath heap'd 'em upon one ano­ther a little confusedly, but for order sake we will fancy 'em plac'd upon Shelves in a long Gallery; Astolfo won­der'd to see several Vials full inscribed with the Names of the most conside­rable Statsemen, Divines, Lawyers, &c. Bless me, said he, is my Lord— and my Lord— here! Sir Tho. Sir Jo. nay, Doctor — and Fa­ther — too? Why, in my Coun­trey, we look upon 'em as Oracles; and after all, it seems, they are but little better than mad Men, if not stark Fools. I find now the poor Rogue was in the right, tho' he was soundly whipp'd for't, who told the Judge that he had seen an Ass cloathed in Scarlet; and a right Worshipful Alderman, that he knew not which was the greatest Bruit of the two, the Beast that bore [Page 54] the Furr, or the Beast that wore it; but had I been there, I should have told Astolfo the saucy Knave was well enough serv'd, for we are not to look upon the Man, but the Place he fills; we are to reverence a Magistrate when and wheresoever we meet him, and to suppose his Merit was the sole cause of his Preferment, tho' we are certain it came by Bribery or Pimping; but e­nough of this, let us return to our Vials. To confess the truth, I begin to fear, since I have entertain'd you with these Philosophical and Poetical Visions, mine there is not very empty; however, 'tis some consolation to me, that while you are so attentive, you have a little Glass full as well as your Servant: The good Knight found his own wits among the rest, and with the Apostles leave snuff'd it all up his Nose, like so much Queen of Hungary's Wa­ter; but Ariosto said, he did not carry it far, it return'd again to the Moon a little after.

Well, he did not forget Orlando's Vi­al, which was the occasion of his Voy­age, but he was cursedly plagu'd to carry it, for Hero's wits are naturally very heavy, and there did not want one drop of it; in conclusion Ariosto, according to his laudable custom, ad­dresseth himself to his Mistress in this manner,

Is not this very fine? To reason like Ariosto, the safest way of losing our wits, is to be in love; for you see they do not go far from us, we may recover 'em again at our Lips: but when we lose 'em by other means, as for Exam­ple, by Philosophizing, whip, they are gone into the Moon, and there is no coming at 'em again when we would. However, said the Countess, our Vials have an honourable Station among the Philosophers, when 'tis forty to one, but Love fixeth our Wits on an Object we cannot but be asham'd of. But to take away mine entirely, pray tell me, but tell me seriously, if you believe there are any Men in the Moon? for me­thinks hitherto you have not been very positive. For my part, said I, I do not believe there are Men in the Moon, for do but observe how much the Face of Nature is chang'd between this and Chi­na; other Visages, Shapes, Manners, [Page 57] nay, almost other Principles of Reason; and therefore, between us and the Moon the alteration must be much more considerable. In the Lands that have been lately discover'd, we can scarce call the Inhabitants Men, they are rather A­nimals of humane Shape, and that too sometimes very Imperfect, almost with­out humane Reason; he therefore that will travel to the Moon, must not ex­pect to find Men there.

What sort of People will they be then, said the Countess? Troth, Madam, said I, I know not; for put the case that we our selves inhabited the Moon, and were not Men, but rational Crea­tures; could we imagin, do you think, such fantastical People upon the Earth, as Mankind is? Is it possible we should have an Idea of so strange a Compo­sition, a Creature of such foolish Passions, and such wise Reflections? So Learned in things of no use, and so stupidly Ignorant of what most concerns him? So much con­cern for Liberty, and yet such great in­clinations to Servitude? So desirous of [Page 58] Happiness, and yet so very incapable of being so? the People in the Moon must be wise indeed to suppose all this of us. But do we not see our selves continually, and cannot so much as guess how we were made? So that we are forc'd to say, the Gods when they crea­ted us were drunk with Nectar, and when they were sober again, could not chuse but laugh at their own handy-work. Well, well, said the Countess, we are safe enough then, they in the Moon know nothing of us; but I could wish we were a little better acquainted with them, for it troubles me that we should see the Moon above us, and yet not know what is done there. Why, said I, are you not as much concern'd for that part of the Earth which is not yet discover'd? What Creatures inhabit it, and what they do there? for we and they are carry'd in the same Vessel; they possess the Prow, and we the Poop, and yet there is no manner of Com­munication between us; they do not know at one end of the Ship who lives [Page 59] or what is done at the other end; and you would know what passeth in the Moon, which is another great Vessel, sailing in the Heavens at a vast distance from us.

Oh, said she, for the Earth, I reckon it all as good as discover'd, and can guess at the People, tho' I never heard a word of 'em; for certainly they all re­semble us very much, and we may know 'em better when we have a mind to't; they will stay where they are, and 'tis no more but going to see 'em; but we cannot get into the Moon if we would, so that I despair of knowing what they do there. You would laugh at me, said I, if I should answer you seriously, perhaps I may deserve it, and yet, I fan­cy, I can say a great deal to justifie a ridiculous thought that is just now come into my Head; nay to use the Fools best Argument, I'll lay a wager I make you own (in spite of Reason) that one of these days there may be a Communication between the Earth and the Moon, and who knows what great [Page 60] Advantages we may procure by it? Do but consider America before it was dis­cover'd by Columbus, how profoundly ignorant were those People, they knew nothing at all of Arts or Sciences, they went naked, had no other Arms but a Bow and Arrows, and did not conceive they might be carry'd by Animals; they look'd upon the Sea as a wide Space, forbidden to Man, that it was joyn'd to the Heavens, and that beyond it was nothing: 'Tis true, after having spent whole years in making hollow the trunks of great Trees with sharp stones, they put themselves to Sea in these Trunks, and floated from Land to Land, as the Wind and Waves drove 'em; but how often was their Trough overset, and they forc'd to recover it again by swimming? So that (except when they were on the Land) it might be said they were continually swimming: And yet had any one but told 'em of another kind of Navigation incomparably more perfect and useful than their own, that they might easily pass over that infinite [Page 61] Space of Water, that they might stop in the middle of the Waves, and in some sense command the Winds, and make their Vessel go fast or slow as they pleas'd; in short, that this impas­sable Ocean should be no obstacle to their conversing with another different People; do you think they would have believed you? and yet at last that day is come; the unheard of and most surpri­zing Sight appears, vast great Bodies, with white Wings, are seen to fly upon the Sea, to vomit Fire from all Parts, and to cast on their Shoars an unknown People, all scaled with Iron, who dis­pose and govern Monsters as they please; carry Thunder in their Hands, and over­throw and destroy whoever resists 'em: From whence came they? Who brought 'em over the Sea? Who gave to 'em the Disposal of the Fire of Heaven? Are they Gods? Are they Sons of the Sun? for certainly they are not Men. Do but consider, Madam, the surprize of the Americans, there can be nothing greater; and after this, shall any one [Page 62] say there shall never be a Communica­tion between the Moon and the Earth. Did the Americans believe there would ever be any between them and Europe, till it came to pass? 'Tis true, you must pass this great Space of Air and Heaven which is between the Earth and the Moon; but did not those vast Seas seem at first as impassable to the Ame­ricans? You rave, I think, said she, did you not own the Americans were so ignorant, that they had not the least conception of crossing the Sea; but we who know a great deal more then they, can imagine and fancy the going through the Air, tho' we are assur'd it is not to be done. There is somewhat more than Fancy, I reply'd, when it hath been al­ready practis'd, for several have found the secret of fastning Wings, which bear them up in the Air, to move them as they please, and to fly over Rivers, and from Steeple to Steeple; I cannot say indeed they have yet made an Eagles Flight, or that it doth not cost now and then a Leg or an Arm to one of [Page 63] these new Birds; but this may serve to represent the first Planks that were launch'd on the Water, and which were the very beginning of Navigation; there were no Vessels then thought of to sail round the World, and yet you see what great Ships are grown by little and little from those first Planks. The Art of Flying is but newly invented, it will improve by degrees, and in time grow perfect; then we may fly as far as the Moon. We do not yet pretend to have discover'd all things, or that what we have discover'd can receive no ad­dition; and therefore, pray let us agree, there are yet many things to be done in the Ages to come. Were you to live a thousand Ages, said the Countess, I can never believe you will fly, but you must endanger your Neck. I will not, I reply'd, be so unmannerly as to con­tradict a fair Lady, but tho' we cannot learn the Art here, I hope you will al­low they may fly better in the Moon; 'tis no great matter whether we go to them, or they come to us, we shall then [Page 64] be the Americans, who knew nothing of Navigation, and yet there were very good Ships at t' other end of the World. Were it so, said she, the People in the Moon would have been here before now. All in good time, said I, the Eu­ropians were not in America till at the end of some thousands of years, they were so long in improving Navigation to the point of crossing the Ocean. The People in the Moon have already made some short Voyages in the Air; they are exercising continually, and by de­grees will be more expert, then we shall see 'em, and God knows how we shall be surpriz'd. It is unsufferable, said she, you should banter me at this rate, and justifie your ridiculous Fancy by such false reasoning. I am going to demonstrate, said I, you reproach me very unjustly: Consider, Madam, that the World is unfolded by degrees; for the Ancients were very positive, that the Torrid and Frigid Zones were not inhabitable, by reason of their excessive Heat and Cold; and in the time of the [Page 65] Romans, the general Map of the World was but very little extended beyond that of their Empire; which tho' in one sense, express'd much Grandeur, in ano­ther sense, was a sign of as great Ig­norance; however, there were Men found both in very hot and in very cold Countreys; so that you see the World is already encreas'd after that it was thought that the Ocean cover'd the whole Earth, except what was then discover'd; there was no talk then of the Antipodes, not so much as a thought of 'em, for who could fancy their Heels at top, and their Heads at bottom; and yet after all their fine reasoning, the Antipodes were discover'd; here's now another half of the World starts up, and a new Reformation of the Map; methinks this, Madam, should restrain us, and teach us not to be so positive in our Opinions, the World will unfold it self more to us hereafter; then we shall know the People in the Moon as well as we do now the Antipodes; but all things must be done in order, the whole [Page 66] Earth must be first discover'd, and till we are perfectly acquainted with our own Habitation, we shall never know that of our Neighbours. Without fool­ing, said the Countess, you are so very profoud in this Point, that I begin to think, you are in earnest, and believe what you say. Not so neither, said I, but I would shew you how easie it is to maintain a chymerical Notion, that may (like some opinions in Religion,) perplex a Man of understanding, but never per­swade him; there is nothing perswades but Truth, it hath no need of all its proofs, but enters naturally into our Understanding; and when once we have learn'd it, we do nothing but think of it. I think you then, said she, for imposing on me no longer; for I con­fess your false reasoning disturb'd me, but now I sha [...]l sleep very quietly, if you think fit to go home.

The Third Evening.

THE Countess was so intent up­on her Notions, that she would fain have engag'd me next day, to go on where I left off; but I told her, since the Moon and Stars were become the Subject of our Discourse, we would trust our Chymaeras with no body else: At Night we went again into the Park, which was now dedicated to our Learn­ed Conversation.

Well, Madam, said I, I have great News for you; that which I told you last Night, of the Moon's being inhabi­ted, may not be so now: There is a new Fancy got into my Head, which puts those People in great Danger. I can­not suffer it, said she; yesterday you were preparing me to receive a Visit from 'em, and now there are no such Peo­ple in Nature: Once you would have me believe the Moon was inhabited; I surmounted the Difficulty I had, and [Page 68] will now believe it. You are a little too nimble, I reply'd; did I not advise you never to be entirely convinc'd in things of this nature, but to reserve half of your understanding free and dis­engag'd, that you may admit of the contrary opinion, if there be any oc­casion. I care not for your Sentences, said she, let us come to matter of Fact. Are we not to consider the Moon as Greenwhich? No, said I, the Moon doth not so much resemble the Earth, as Greenwich doth London: The Sun draws from the Earth and Water, Exhalations and Vapours, which mounting to a cer­tain height in the Air, do there assemble, and form the Clouds; these uncertain Clouds are driven irregularly round the Globe, sometimes shadowing one Coun­trey, and sometimes another; he then who beholds the Earth from a-far off, will see frequent alterations upon its surface, because a great Country over­cast with Clouds, will appear dark or light, as the Clouds stay, or pass over it; he will see the Spots on the Earth often [Page 69] change their Place, and appear, or dis­appear as the Clouds remove; but we see none of these changes wrought upon the Moon, which would certainly be the same, were there but Clouds about her; but on the contrary, all her Spots are fix'd and certain, and her light parts continue where they were at first, which truly is a great misfortune; for by this reason, the Sun draws no Exhala­tions or Vapours above the Moon; so that it appears she is a Body infinitely more hard, and solid than the Earth, whose subtile parts are easily separated from the rest, and mount upwards as soon as Heat puts them in Motion: But it must be a heap of Rock and Mar­ble, where there is no Evaporation; be­sides, Exhalations are so natural and necessary where there is Water, that there can be no Water at all, where there is no Exhalation; and what sort of In­habitants must those be, whose Coun­trey affords no Water, is all Rock, and produceth nothing? Very fine, said she, you have forgot since, you assur'd [Page 70] me, we might from hence distinguish Seas in the Moon; nay, You or your Friends were Godfathers to some of 'em. Pray, what is become of your Caspian Sea, and your Black Lake? All Conje­cture, Madam, I reply'd, tho' for your Ladyships sake, I am very sorry for it; for those dark places we took to be Seas, may perhaps be nothing but large Ca­vities; 'tis hard to guess aright at so great a distance. But will this suffice then, said she, to extirpate the People in the Moon? Not altogether, I reply'd, we will neither determine for, nor a­gainst them. I must own my weakness (if it be one) said she, I cannot be so perfectly undetermin'd as you would have me to be, but must believe one way, or the other; therefore pray fix me quickly in my opinion; as to the Inhabitants of the Moon; preserve or annihilate them, as you shall think fit; and yet methinks I have a strange in­clination for 'em, and would not have 'em destroy'd, if it were possible to save 'em. You know, Madam, said I, I can [Page 71] deny you nothing; the Moon shall be no longer a Defart, but to do you ser­vice, we will repeople her. Since to all appearance, the Spots in the Moon do not change, I cannot conceive there are any Clouds about her, that some­times obscure one part, and sometimes another; yet this doth not hinder, but that the Moon sends forth Exhalations, and Vapours. Our Clouds which we see in the Air, are nothing but Exhalations and Vapours, which at their coming out of the Earth, were separated into such minute Particles, that they could not be discern'd; but as they ascend higher, they are condens'd by the Cold, and by the re-union of their Parts, are ren­der'd visible; after which they become great Clouds, which fluctuate in the Air, till they return back again in Rain; how­ever these Exhalations and Vapours do sometimes keep themselves so dispers'd, that they are imperceptible; or if they do assemble, it is in forming such subtile Dews, that they cannot be discern'd to fall from any Cloud. It may likewise [Page 72] happen, that the Vapours which go out of the Moon (for it is incredible that the Moon is such a Mass, that all its Parts are of an equal Solidity, all at rest one with another, and all incapable of any alteration from the efficacy of the Sun; I am sure we are yet unacquaint­ed with such a Body: Marble it self is of another Nature, and even that which is most Solid, is subject to Change and Alteration; either from the secret and invisible motion it hath within it self, or from that which it receives from with­out) it may so happen then, that the Va­pours which issue from the Moon, may not assemble round her in Clouds, and may not fall back again in Rain, but only in Dews. It is sufficient for this, that the Air with which the Moon is environ'd, (for it is certain that the Moon is encompassed with Air as well as the Earth) be a little different from our Air, and the Vapours of the Moon a little different from those of the Earth, which is very probable. Hereupon the matter being otherwise dispos'd in the Moon than on the Earth, [Page 73] the Effects must be different; tho' it is of no great consequence whether they are or no; for from the moment we have found an inward motion in the parts of the Moon, or produced by foreign Cau­ses, here is enough for the new birth of its Inhabitants, and a sufficient and ne­cessary fund for their Subsistence. This will furnish us with Corn, Fruit, Wa­ter, according to the custom or man­ner of the Moon, which I do not pre­tend to know; and all proportion'd to the wants and use of the Inhabitants, with whom I pretend to be as little ac­quainted. That is to say, reply'd the Countess, you know all is very well, without knowing how it is so, which is a great deal of Ignorance upon a very little Knowledge; however I comfort my self, that you have given the Moon her Inhabitants again, and have wrap'd her in an Air of her own, without which a Planet would seem but very naked.

'Tis these two different Airs, said I, that hinder the Communication of the two Planets; if it was only [Page 74] flying, as I told you yesterday, who knows but we may improve it to per­fection, tho' I confess there is but little hopes of it; the great distance between the Moon and the Earth is a difficulty not easily to be surmounted, yet were the distance but inconsiderable, and the two Planets almost contiguous, it would be still impossible to pass from the Air of the one, into the Air of the other: The Water is the Air of Fishes, they ne­ver pass into the Air of the Birds, nor the Birds into the Air of the Fish; and yet 'tis not the distance that hinders them, but both are emprison'd by the Air they breath in; we find our Air con­sists of thicker and grosser Vapours than the Air of the Moon. So that one of her Inhabitants arriving at the Confines of our World, as soon as he enters our Air will inevitably drown himself, and we shall see him fall dead on the Earth.

I should rejoyce at a Wreck, said the Countess, as much as my Neighbours on the Coast of Sussex; how pleasant would [Page 75] it be to see 'em lie scatter'd on the ground, where we might consider at our ease, their extraordinary Figures? But what, said I, if they could swim on the outward surface of our Air, and be as curious to see us, as you are to see them; should they Angle or cast a Net for us, as for so many Fish, would that please you? why not? said the Countess; For my part I would go into their Nets of mine own accord, were it but for the pleasure to see such strange Fisher­men.

You would be very Sick, said I, when you were drawn to the top of our Air, for it is not respirable in all its extent, as may be seen on the tops of some very high Mountains; and I ad­mire that they who have the folly to believe that our Faries, whom they a­low to be Corporeal, and to inhabit the most pure and refin'd Air, do not tell us that the reason why they give us such short and seldom visits, is that there are very few among them that can dive, and those that can, if it be possible to [Page 76] get through the thick Air where we are, cannot stay half so long in it, as one of the worst of Sir Harry Blount's Sponge-gatherers. Here then are natural Barri­cades, which defend the passage out of our World, as well as the Entry into that of the Moon; so that since we can only guess at that World, let us fancy all we can of it. For Example, I will suppose that we may see there the Fir­mament, the Sun, and the Stars, of a­nother colour than what they are here; all these apear to us through a kind of Natural Spectacles, which change and alter the Objects. These Spectacles are our Air, mix'd as it is with Vapours and Exhalations, and which doth not extend it self very high. Some of our Modern Philosophers pretend, of it self it is blue, as well as the Water of the Sea, and that this colour neither appears in the one nor in the other, but at a great depth; the Firmament, say they, where the fix'd Stars are fastned, hath no peculiar light of its own, and by consequence must ap­pear black, but we see it through the [Page 77] Air which is blue, and therefore to us it appears blue; which if so, the Beams of the Sun and Stars cannot pass through the Air without being ting'd a little with its colour, and losing as much of their own; yet were the Air of no colour, it is very certain, that through a great Mist the light of a Flambeau at some di­stance appears reddish, though it be not its true natural colour. Our Air is no­thing but a great Mist, which changeth the true colour of the Sky, of the Sun, and of the Stars; it belongs only to the Celestial Matter to bring us the Light and Colours as they really are in all the purity; so that since the Air of the Moon is of another nature than our Air, or is stain'd of another colour, or at least is another kind of Mist, which causeth o­ther alterations to the Colours of the Celestial Bodies; in short, as to the People of the Moon, their Spectacles through which they see every thing are chang'd.

If it be so, said the Countess, I pre­fer my abode before that of the Moon; [Page 78] for I cannot believe the Celestial Co­lours are so well suited as they are here; for if you will let us put green Stars on a red Sky, they cannot be so agre­able as Stars of Gold on an Azure Fir­mament. To hear you, said I, one would think you was chusing a Petti­coat, or a suit of Knots; but believe me, Nature hath as good a Fancy as Mrs. Harrison; leave it to her to chuse Colours for the Moon, and I'll engage they shall be well sorted; she will not fail to vary the Prospect of the Uni­verse, at every different point of Sight, and always the Alteration shall be very agreable. I know very well, said the Countess, her Skill in this Point; she is not at the charge of changing the Ob­jects, but only the Spectacles, and hath the credit of this great variety, with­out being at any expence; with a blue Air, she gives us a blue Firmament; and perhaps with a red Air, she gives to the Inhabitants of the Moon a red Firma­ment; and yet still it is but the same Fir­mament; nay, I am of opinion, she hath [Page 79] plac'd a sort of Spectacles in our Ima­gination, through which we see all things, and which to every particular Man change the Objects. Alexander look'd on the Earth as a fit place to e­stablish a great Empire, it seem'd to Ce­ladon a proper residence for Astraea, and it appear'd to a Philosopher, a great Pla­net in the Heavens, covered with Fools: I do not believe the Sights vary more between the Earth and the Moon, than they do between one Man's Fancy and anothers.

This change in our Imaginations, said I, is very surprizing; for they are still the same Objects, tho' they appear dif­ferent; when in the Moon, we may see other Objects we do not see here, or at least, not see all there we do see here; perhaps in that Country they know no­thing of the Dawn and the Twilight, before the Sun riseth, and after the Sun sets; the Air which encompasseth, and is elevated above us, receives the Rays, so that they cannot strike on the Earth; and being gross, stops some of them, and [Page 80] sends 'em to us, tho' indeed they were never naturally design'd us; so that the Day-break and the Twilight are a fa­vour which Nature bestows on us; they are a Light which regularly we should not have, and which she gives us over and above our due; but in the Moon, where apparently the Air is more pure, and therefore not so proper to send down the Beams it receives from the Sun before his rising, and after his setting; you have not that Light of Grace (as I may call it) which growing greater by degrees, doth more agreably prepare you for the arrival of the Sun, and which growing weaker, and diminishing by degrees, doth insensibly prepare you for the Sun's departure: But you are in a profound darkness, where a Curtain (as it were) is drawn all on a sudden, your Eyes are immediately dazled with the whole light of the Sun, in all its glo­ry and brightness; so likewise, you are on a sudden surpriz'd with utter Dark­ness; the Night and the Day have no medium between them, but you fall in [Page 81] a moment from one extreme into the o­ther. The Rainbow likewise is not known to them in the Moon; for if the Dawn is an effect of the grossness of the Air and Vapours, the Rainbow is form'd in the Clouds, from whence the Rain falls; so that the most beautiful things in the World, are produc'd by those things which have no beauty at all. Since then there are no Vapours thick enough, nor no Clouds of Rain about the Moon, farewell Dawn, adieu Rainbow: What must Lovers do for Similies in that Coun­trey, when such an inexhaustible Ma­gazine of Comparisons is taken from them?

I doubt not, said the Countess, but there are those in the Moon as good at Simily as the greatest Beau in Covent-Garden; and had they neither Sun nor Stars, Pearls nor Rubies, Roses nor Lillies, yet could say as many fine things to a Visor-Mask, as the pertest Wit at the Pup­pet Show; and they are well enough recompenc'd for the loss of our Dawn and Rainbow; for by the same reason, [Page 82] they have neither Thunder nor Light­ning, both which are formed in the Clouds; how glorious are their days, the Sun continually shining? How plea­sant their Nights, not the least Star is hid from them? They never hear of Storms or Tempests, which certainly are an effect of the wrath of Heaven: Do you think then they stand in need of our pity? You are describing the Moon, I reply'd, like an enchanted Palace; but do you think it is so pleasant to have a scorching Sun always over our Heads, and not the least Cloud to moderate its Heat? Tho' I fancy 'tis for this reason that Nature hath made great Cavities in the Moon; we can discern 'em easily with our Tellescopes, for they are not Mountains, but so many Wells or Vaults in the middle of a Plain; and what do we know but the Inhabitants of the Moon, being continually broil'd by the excessive heat of the Sun, do retire in­to those great Wells; perhaps they live no where else, and 'tis there they build 'em Cities; for we still see in the Ruines [Page 83] of old Rome, that that part of the City which was under ground, was almost as large as that which was above ground. I fancy, during the late siege of Buda, they liv'd there as they do in the Moon, or 'tis but going to the Fountain Tavern Cellar, where the several Vaults are as so many high Streets, the Vats, Pipes, Hogsheads, so many different Edifices, and the Drawers and Coopers, like so many Troglodites. I perceive you laugh at me, yet if I may be so free with a fair Lady, you deserve it much better than I; for you believe the People in the Moon must live upon the surface of their Planet, because we do so upon ours; but quite contrary, since we dwell upon the Superficies of our Planet, they should not dwell upon the superficies of their Planet; if things differ so much in this World, what must they do in another?

'Tis no matter, said the Countess, I can never suffer the Inhabitants of the Moon to live in perpetual darkness. You will be more concern'd for 'em, I re­ply'd, [Page 84] when I tell you that one of the ancient Philosophers did long since dis­cover the Moon to be the abode of the blessed Souls departed out of this Life, and that all their Happiness consisted in hearing the Harmony of the Spheres; that is, the Musick (I had like to have said Noise) which is made by the mo­tion of the Celestial Bodies; if you have seen a Rarée Show, you will easily comprehend it: But because the Philo­sopher pretends to know exactly all they do there, he tells you, that when the Moon is obscur'd by the shadow of the Earth, they no longer hear the Hea­venly Musick, but howl like so many Souls in Purgatory; so that the Moon taking pity of 'em, makes all the haste she can to get into the Light again. Methinks then, says she, we should now and then see some of the Blessed Souls arrive here from the Moon, for cer­tainly they are sent to us. I confess indeed, said I, it would be very plea­sant to see different Worlds; such a Voyage, tho' but in Imagination, is ve­ry [Page 85] delightful; what would it be in effect? It would be much better cer­tainly than to go to Japan, which at best, is but crawling from one end of the World to t' other, and after all to see nothing but Men. Well then, says she, let us travel over the Planets, as fast as we can; what should hinder us? Let us place our selves at all the dif­ferent Prospects, and from thence con­sider the Universe. But first, have we any thing more to see in the Moon? I believe not, I reply'd; at least, you have seen all I can shew you. Com­ing out of the Moon, towards the Sun, we see Venus, which puts me again in mind of Greenwich. Venus turns upon her self, and round the Sun, as well as the Moon; they likewise discover by their Tellescopes, that Venus like the Moon, (if I may speak after the same manner) is sometimes new, sometimes full, and sometimes in the wain, accord­ing to the diverse situations she is in, in respect of the Earth.

The Moon, to all appearance, is inha­bited, [Page 86] why should no Venus be so too? You are so full of your Whys, and your Wherefores, says she, interrupting me, that I fancy you are sending Colo­nies to all the Planets. You may be certain, so I will, I reply'd, for I see no reason to the contrary; we find that all the Planets are of the same nature, all obscure Bodies, which receive no light but from the Sun, and then send it to one another; their motions are the same, so that hitherto they are alike; and yet if we are to believe that these vast Bo­dies are not inhabited, I think they were made but to little purpose; why should Nature be so partial, as to ex­cept only the Earth? But let who will say the contrary, I must believe the Pla­nets are peopled as well as the Earth. I find, says the Countess, with some con­cern, a Philosopher will never make a good Martyr, you can so quickly shift your Opinion, 'twas not many minutes since the Moon was a perfect Desart, now the rest of the Planets are inhabi­ted. Why truly, Madam, said I, there [Page 87] is a time for all things, and your true Philosopher believes any thing, or no­thing, as the Maggot bites. Had you taken me in the sceptical Vein, I would have as soon granted a Nation in a Mustard Ball, as a living Creature in the Moon; but the tide is turn'd, and all the Planets are Peopled like an Ant­hill; yet, Raillery apart, this is not so very improbable as you think it; for do you believe we discover, (as I may say) all the Inhabitants of the Earth? there be as many kinds of invisible as visible Creatures; we see from the Ele­phant to the very Hand-worm, beyond which our Sight fails us, and yet count­ing from that minute Creature, there are an infinity of lesser Animals, which were they perceptible, would be as little in comparison with a Mite, as a Mite is of an Ox. How lately have our Virtuoso's found out the Pepper Worms, which in the least drop of Wa­ter appear like so many Dolphins, sport­ing in the Ocean; nay, they tell you that the sharpness of Vinegar consists in [Page 88] the fierceness of the little Animals that bite you by the Tongue; not to name the blue on Plums, and twenty Experi­ments of the like nature.

Nay, to shew you that they can see as far into a Milstone as Descartes him­self, they have discover'd that several, even of the most solid Bodies, are no­thing but an immense swarm of imper­ceptible Animals: Do but consider this little Leaf; why it is a great World, of a vast extent, what Mountains, what A­bysses are there in it? the Insects of one side, know no more of their fellow Crea­tures on t' other side, then you and I can tell what they are now doing at the An­tipodes; is it not reason then that a great Planet should be inhabited? In the hard­est Stones, for Example, in Marble, there are an infinity of Worms, which fill up the vacuums, and feed upon the sub­stance of the Stone; fancy then millions of living Creatures to subsist; many years on a grain of Sand; so that were the Moon but one continued Rock, she should be gnaw'd by these invisible Mites, (as [Page 89] if she were a green Cheese) rather than not be inhabited: In short, every thing is animated, and the Stones upon Salis­bury Plain are as much alive, as a Hive of Bees; imagine then those Animals which are yet undiscovered, and add them and those which are but lately discover'd, to those we have always seen, you will find the Earth swarms with Inhabitants. Why then should Nature, which is fruitful to an excess here, be so very barren in the rest of the Planets? I must own, said the Coun­tess, you have convinc'd my Reason, but you have confounded my Fancy, with such variety, that I cannot imagine how Nature, which hates Repetitions, should produce so many different kinds. There is no need of Fancy, I reply'd, do but trust your Eyes, and you will easily perceive how Nature diversifies in these several Worlds.

All humane Faces, in general, are of the same Model, and yet the Europeans and the Africans have two particular Moulds; nay, commonly every Family have a [Page 90] different Form; what secret then has Nature to shew so much variety in the single Face? Our World, in respect of the Universe, is but a little Family; all whose Faces have some resemblance; in another Place, there is another Family, whose Faces have a different Air and Fa­shion; the difference too increaseth with the distance, for whosoever should see an Inhabitant of the Moon, and an In­habitant of the Earth, would soon per­ceive they were nearer Neighbours than one of the Earth, and one of Saturn; here, for Example, we have the use of Voice, in another World, they speak by Signs, and at a greater distance they do not speak at all; here our Reason is form'd by Experience, in the next World, Experience contributes little to­wards it; and in the next to that, old Men know no more than Children; here we are troubled more with what is to come, than with what is past; further off, they are not concern'd with either, which by the way, I think, is much the better: Here, 'tisthought we want [Page 91] a sixth Sense, which would teach us many things, of which we are now ig­norant; this sixth Sense, is apparently in another World, where they want one of the five which we enjoy; nay, per­haps there is a much greater number of Senses, but in the Partition we have made of 'em with the Inhabitants of the other Planets, there are but five fall'n to our share, with which we are well contented, for want of being ac­quainted with the rest: Our Sciences have bounds, which the wit of Man could never pass; there is a point where they fail us on a sudden, the rest is re­serv'd for other Worlds, where some­what which we know, is unknown to them. This Planet enjoys the pleasures of Love, but lies desolate in several pla­ces by the fury of War; in another Pla­net, they enjoy a perpetual Peace, yet in the midst of that Peace, know no­thing of Love, and time lies on their hands; in a word, that which Nature practises here in little, in distributing her Gifts among Mankind; she does at [Page 92] large in other Worlds, where she makes use of that admirable secret she hath to diversifie all things, and at the same time makes 'em equal, by compensating for the inequality; this I confess is on the Borders of Nonsense, but a Man is ne'er the less a Philosopher for being a little obscure, if not unintelligible.

But is it not time, Madam, to be serious, how will you dispose of all these Noti­ons? Trouble not your self, says she, Fancy is a great Traveller; I already compre­hend these several Worlds, and represent to my self their different Characters and Customs; some of 'em, I assure you, are very extraordinary; I see at this moment, a thousand different Figures, tho' I cannot well describe 'em. Oh leave 'em, I reply'd, to your Dreams, they will represent 'em very faithfully.

The Fourth Evening.

I Have been told of a Physician that makes his Patients dream as he plea­ses, by prescribing such a Specifick for their Supper, as works those impressions he would have on the Fancy; of what use he may be to the modern Poets, I leave to the curious; and return to the Countess, who either did not dream at all, or nothing to the purpose; so that continuing our Voyage to the other Worlds, we could only guess at their Inhabitants. We were come to Venus, and I told her, that Venus certainly turn'd on it self, tho' no body could tell in what time, and consequently were ig­norant how long her Day lasted; but her Year was compos'd of eight Months, because 'tis in that time she turns round the Sun: And seeing Venus is forty times less than the Earth, the Earth appears (to them in Venus) to be a Planet, forty times bigger than Venus appears to us [Page 94] on the Earth; and as the Moon is forty times lesser than the Earth, so she seems to be just of the same magnitude, to the Inhabitants of Venus, as here Venus seems to us.

I see then, says the Countess, that the Earth is not to Venus, what Venus is to the Earth; I mean, that the Earth is too bigg to be the Mother of Love, or the Shepherd's Star to Venus; but the Moon, which appears to Venus, of the same big­ness that Venus appears to us, is assign'd to be the Mother of Love, and Shep­herds Star to Venus; for such names are only proper for a little brisk airy Planet, bright, and shining as the Goddess her self. Oh, blessed Moon, how happy art thou, to preside over the Amours of those gallant People, where all they say, is soft and moving, and perfectly refin'd from the dross of our Wits, who are fitter for a Bear-Garden than a Circle? How gross is their Courtship? how mean their Raillery? without any distinction of time, place, or person; they make Love, (as they call it) but one way, [Page 95] and the form is the same, at a Farce, or Funeral. Be not so very severe, I re­ply'd, if some of our Beaux speak plain English, some of your Belles, like 'em ne're the worse for't: The art of Love is as much improv'd as the art of War, the Generals of this Age take a Town in two days, which in the last, held out as many years; and the Roses, Lillies, Pearls, and Rubies, (a whining Lovers train of Artillery) are grown as useless as Bows and Arrows: tho' after all, I must own they have another Standard in the Planet Venus; there Clelia and Parthenissa, is below the language of Grooms and Chamber Maids; and every Porter and Car-Man a perfect Sir Court­ly; but then consider the difference of Climats; Venus is much nearer than the Earth is to the Sun, from whence she re­ceives a more vigorous and active influ­ence.

I find, says the Countess, it is easie enough to guess at the Inhabitants of Venus; they resemble what I have read of the Moors of Granada, who were a [Page 96] little black People, scorch'd with the Sun, witty, full of Fire, very Amorous, much inclin'd to Musick and Poetry, and ever inventing Masques and Turnaments in honour of their Mistresses. Pardon me, Madam, said I, you are little ac­quainted with the Planet; Granada in all its Glory, was a perfect Greenland to it; and your gallant Moors, in compa­rison with that People, were as stupid as so many Laplanders.

But what do you think then of the Inhabitants of Mercury? They are yet nearer to the Sun, and are so full of Fire, that they are absolutely mad; I fancy, they have no memory at all, like most of the Negroes, that they make no reflections, and what they do is by sud­den starts, and perfect hap-hazard; in short, Mercury is the Bedlam of the U­niverse; the Sun appears to them much greater than it does to us, because they are much nearer to it than we; it sends them so vast and strong a light, that the most glorious day here, would be no more with them than a declining [Page 97] twilight: I know not if they can di­stinguish Objects, but the heat to which they are accustom'd, is so ex­cessive, that they would be starved with cold in the Torrid Zone; their year is but three Months, but we know not the exact length of their Day, because Mer­cury is so little, and so near the Sun; it is, (as it were) lost in his Rays, and is very hardly discover'd by the Astrono­mers; so that they cannot observe how it moves on its Centre, but because it is so little, fancy it compleats its motion in a little time; so that by consequence, the day there is very short, and the Sun appears to them like a vast fiery Furnace at a little distance, whose motion is pro­digiously swift and rapid; and during their Night, Venus and the Earth (which must appear considerably big) give light to them; as for the other Planets which are beyond the Earth, towards the Fir­mament, they appear less to them in Mercury, than they do to us here, and they receive but little light from them, perhaps none at all; the fix'd Stars like­wise [Page 98] seem less to them, and some of 'em totally disappear, which were I there, I should esteem a very great loss.

What signifies the loss of a few fix'd Stars, says the Countess? I pity 'em for the excessive heat they endure; let us give 'em some relief, and send Mercury a few of the refreshing Showers they have sometimes four Months together in the hottest Countries during their greatest ex­tremity. Your Fancy is good, Madam, I reply'd, but we will relieve 'em ano­ther way; In China there are Countries which are extreamly hot by their Si­tuation: yet in July and August are so cold, that the Rivers are Frozen; the reason is, they are full of Salt-Petre, which being exhal'd in great abundance by the excessive heat of the Sun, makes a perfect Winter at Midsummer. We will fill the little Planet with Salt-petre, and let the Sun shine as hot as he plea­ses. And yet after all, who knows but the Inhabitants of Mercury may have no occasion either for Rain, or Salt-Pe­tre. If it is a certain truth, that Nature [Page 99] never gives life to any Creature, but where that Creature may live; then thro' Custom, and ignorance of a better Life, those People may live hap­pily.

After Mercury comes the Sun, but there is no possibility of peopling it, nor no room left for a wherefore. By the Earth which is inhabited, we judge that other Bodies of the same Nature may be like­wise inhabited; but the Sun is a Body not like the Earth or any of the Planets, the Sun is the source or Fountain of Light, which tho' it is sent from one Planet to another, and receives several alterations by the way, yet all origi­nally proceeds from the Sun, he draws from himself that precious substance which he emits from all sides, and which reflects when it meets with a solid Body, and spreads from one Planet to another those long and vast trains of Light which cross, strike thro', and intermingle in a thousand different fashions, and make (if I may so say,) the Richest Tissu's in the World. The Sun likewise is placed [Page 100] in the Centre, from whence with most convenience, he may equally distribute and animate by his heat; it is then a particular Body, but what sort of Body has often puzled better heads than mine. It was thought formerly a Body of pure Fire, and that Opinion passed currant till the beginning of this Age; when they perceived several spots on its sur­face. A little after they had discover'd new Planets, (of which, hereafter) which some said were those Spots; for those Planets moving round the Sun, when they turned their dark half to us, must necessarily hide part of it; and had not the Learned with these pretended Pla­nets made their Court before to most of the Princes in Europe, giving the name of this Prince to one, and of that Prince to another Planet; I believe they would have quarrel'd who should be Master of these spots, that they might have nam'd them as they pleas'd.

'Twas but t'other day, says the Coun­tess, you were describing the Moon, and call'd several places by the names of [Page 101] the most famous Astronomers. I was pleased with the fancy; for since the Princes have seiz'd on the Earth; 'tis fit the Philosophers [who are as proud as the best of 'em] should reserve the Heavens for themselves without any Competitors. Oh! trouble not your self, said I, the Philosophers make the best advantage of their Territories; and if they part with the least Star, 'tis on very good terms; let me tell you, an Acre of Land in England, is worth ten thousand in the Moon, but the spots on the Sun are fallen to nothing; the acti­ons of Pensilvania are not half so low, 'tis now discover'd that they are not Planets, but Clouds, Steams, or Dross, which rise upon the Sun, sometimes in great quantity, sometimes in less; sometimes they are dark, sometimes clear, sometimes they continue a great while, and sometimes they disappear as long. It seems the Sun is a Liquid Matter, some think of melted Gold, which boils over (as it were) continual­ly, and by the force of its motion casts [Page 102] the Scum or dross on its surface, where it is consumed, and others arise. Ima­gine then what strange Bodies these are, when some of 'em are as big as the Earth; What a vast quantity must there be of this melted Gold, and what must be the extent of this great Sea of Light and Fire which they call the Sun? O­thers say, the Sun appears through their Tellescopes, [which are the Astrono­mers Spectacles] full of Mountains which vomit Fire continually, and are joyn'd together like millions of Etna's. Yet there are those who say these burning Mountains are pure Vision, caus'd by a fault in the Spectacles; but what shall we trust, if we must distrust our Telle­scopes to which we owe the knowledge of so many new Objects? But let the Sun be what it will, it cannot be at all proper for habitation; and what pity 'tis not, for how pleasant would it be? You might then be at the Centre of the Universe, where you would see all the Planets turn regularly about you; but now we know nothing but extravagant [Page 103] fancies, because we do not stand in the proper place; there is but one place in the World where the study or know­ledge of the Stars is easily obtain'd, and what pity 'tis there is no body there. You forget your self sure, says she, were you in the Sun you would see nothing, neither Planets nor fix'd Stars, doth not the Sun efface all? so that could there be any Inhabitants there, they might justly think themselves the only people in Nature.

I own said I, my mistake; I was thinking of the Situation of the Sun, and not of the effect of its Light: I thank you for your correction, but must take the boldness to tell you, that you are in an errour, as well as my self; for were there Inhabitants in the Sun, they would not see at all, either they could not bear the strength of its light, or for want of a due distance, they could not receive it; so that things well consider'd, all the People there must be stark blind, which is another reason why the Sun cannot be inhabited; but let us pur­sue [Page 104] our Voyage. We are now arriv'd at the Centre, which is always the bottom, or lowest place of what is round; if we go on, we must ascend; we shall find Mercury, Venus, the Earth, the Moon, all the Planets we have already visited; the next is Mars: Mars hath nothing curious that I know of, his Day is not quite an hour longer than ours, but his Year is twice as much as our Year; he is a little less than the Earth; and the Sun seems not altoge­ther so large and so bright to him, as it appears to us? but let us leave Mars, he is not worth our stay: But what a pretty thing is Jupiter, with his four Moons, or Yeomen of the Guard; they are four little Planets that turn round him, as our Moon turns round us. But why, says she, interrupting me, must there be Planets to turn round other Planets, that are no better than them­selves? I should think it would be more regular and uniform, that all the Pla­nets, little and great, without any di­stinction, should have one and the same motion round the Sun.

[Page 105]Ah, Madam, said I, if you knew what were Descartes's Whirlpools or Vor­tex's, (whose Name is terrible, but their Idea pleasant) you would not talk as you do. Must my Head, says she, smi­ling, turn round to comprehend 'em, or must I become a perfect Fool to un­derstand the misteries of Philosophy? Well, let the World say what it will, go on with your Whirlpools. I will, said I, and you shall see the Whirlpools are worthy of these transports: That then which we call a Whirlpool, or Vor­tex, is a Mass of Matter, whose parts are separated or detach'd one from ano­ther, yet have all one uniform motion, and at the same time, every one is al­low'd, or has a particular Motion of its own, provided if follows the general Motion: Thus a Vortex of Wind, or Whirlwind, is an infinity of little par­ticles of Air, which turn round all to­gether, and involve what ever they meet with. You know the Planets are born up by the Celestial Matter, which is pro­digiously subtile and active; so that this [Page 106] great Mass, or Ocean of Celestial Mat­ter, which flows as far as from the Sun to the fix'd Stars, turns round, and bears the Planets along with it, making them all turn after the same manner round the Sun, who possesses the Centre, but in a longer or shorter time, according as they are farther or nearer in distance to it; there is nothing to the very Sun, which does not turn, but he turns on himself because he is just in the middle of this Celestial Matter; and you must know by the way, that were the Earth in his place, it must turn on it self, as the Sun does. This is the great Vor­tex, of which the Sun is Lord; yet at the same time, the Planets make little particular Vortex's, in imitation of that of the Sun, each of 'em in turning round the Sun, doth at the same time turn round it self, and makes a certain quantity of Celestial Matter turn round it likewise, which is always prepar'd to follow the Motion the Planet gives it, provided it is not diverted from its ge­neral Motion; this then is the particu­lar [Page 107] Vortex of the Planet, which pushes it as far as the strength of its Motion reaches; and if by chance, a lesser Pla­net falls into the Vortex of a greater Planet, it is immediately born away by the greater, and is indispensably forc'd to turn round it, tho' at the same time, the great Planet, the little Planet, and the Vortex which encloses 'em, all turn round the Sun: 'Twas thus at the beginning of the World, when we made the Moon follow us, because she was within the reach of our Vortex, and therefore wholly at our dispose: Ju­piter was stronger, or more fortunate than we, he had four little Planets in his neighbourhood, and he brought 'em all four under his subjection; and no doubt, we, tho' a principal Planet, had had the same Fate, had we been within the Sphere of his Activity; he is nine­ty times bigger than the Earth, and would certainly have swallow'd us into his Vortex; we had then been no more than a Moon in his Family, when now we have one to wait on us; so that [Page 108] you see the advantage of Situation, de­cides often all our good Fortune.

But pray, says she, who can assure us we shall still continue as we do now? if we should be such Fools as to go near Jupiter, or he so ambitious as to ap­proach us, what will become of us? for if (as you say) the Celestial Matter is continually under this great Motion, it must needs agitate the Planets irregu­larly; sometimes drive 'em together, and sometimes separate 'em. Luck is all, said I; we may win as well as lose, and who knows, but we should bring Mercury and Venus under our Govern­ment; they are little Planets, and can­not resist us; but in this particular, Ma­dam, we need not hope or fear; the Pla­nets keep within their own bounds, and are oblig'd (as formerly the Kings of China were) not to undertake new Conquests. Have you not seen when you put Water and Oyl together, the Oyl swims a top; and if to these two Liquors, you add a very light Liquor, the Oyl bears it up, and it will not sink to the Water: But [Page 109] put an heavier Liquor, of a just weight, and it will pass through the Oyl, which is too weak to sustain it, and sink till it comes to the Water, which is strong e­nough to bear it up; so that in this Li­quor, compos'd of two Liquors, which do not mingle, two Bodies of an une­qual weight, will naturally assume two different Places; the one will never a­scend, the other will never descend: Fancy then that the Celestial Matter which fills this great Vortex, hath se­veral resting places, one by another, whose weight are different, like that of Oyl, Water, and other Liquors; the Pla­nets too are of a different weight, and consequently, every Planet settles in that place which has a just strength to su­stain and keep it equilibrate, so you see 'tis impossible it should ever go beyond.

Would to God, says the Countess, our World were as well regulated, and every one among us knew their proper Place. I am now in no fear of being over-run by Jupiter; and since he lets us alone in our Vortex, with our Moon, I do not [Page 110] envy him the four which he hath. Did you envy him, I reply'd, you would do him wrong, for he has no more than what he has occasion for; at the distance he is from the Sun, his Moons receive, and send him but a very weak light; it is true, that as he turns upon himself in ten hours, his nights, by consequence, are but five hours long; so one would think there is no great occasion for four Moons; but there are other things to be considered. Here under the Poles, they have six Months Day, and six Months Night, because the Poles are the two extremities of the Earth, the farthest removed from those places where the Sun is over 'em in a perpen­dicular line. The Moon seems to keep almost the same course as the Sun, and if the Inhabitants of the Poles see the Sun during one half of his course of a Year, and during the other half, do not see him at all; they see the Moon like­wise during one half of her course of a Month; that is, she appears to 'em fifteen days, but they do not see her during [Page 111] the other half. Jupiter's Year is as much as twelve of ours, so that there must be two opposite extremities in that Planet, where their Night and their Day are six Years each. A Night six Years long, is a little disconsolate, and 'tis for that reason, I suppose, they have four Moons; that which (in regard to Jupiter) is uppermost, finisheth its course about him in seventeen days, the second in seven, the third in three days and an half, and the fourth in two and forty hours; and tho' they are so unfortu­nate as to have six years Night, yet their course being exactly divided into halves, they never pass above one and twenty hours, wherein they do not see at least the last Moon, which is a great comfort in so tedious a darkness; so that be where you will, these four Moons are sometimes the prettiest sight imaginable; sometimes they rise all four together, and then se­parate according to the inequality of their course; sometimes they are all in their Meridian, rang'd one above ano­ther, sometimes you see 'em at equal [Page 112] distances on the Horizon, sometimes when two rise, the other two go down. Oh, how I should love to see this plea­sant sport of Eclipses; for there is not a Day passes but they Eclipse the Sun, or one another; and they are so accustom'd to this diversion in Jupiter, that the late Duke of B—m in his Rehersal, brought the dance of Eclipses from that Planet, as now most of our modish Dances come out of France.

Well, says the Countess, I hope you will People these four Moons, tho' you say they are but little secondary Pla­nets, appointed to give light to another Planet during its Night. Do not doubt it, I reply'd; these Planets are not a jot the worse to be inhabited, for being forc'd to turn round another Planet of greater consequence. I would have then, says she, the People of these four Moons, to be so many Colonies under Jupiter's Government; they should re­ceive their Laws and Customs from him. Would it not be convenient too, said I, that they should send Deputies with Ad­dresses [Page 113] to him; for he hath cetainly a more absolute command over his Moon, than we have over ours; tho' his Pow­er after all, is but imaginary, and con­sists chiefly in making 'em afraid; for that Moon which is nearest to him, sees that he is three hundred and sixty times bigger than our Moon appears to us; for in truth, he is so much bigger than she; he is also much nearer to them, than our Moon is to us, the which makes him appear the greater, so that this for­midable Planet hangs continually ove [...] their Heads, at a very little distance and if the Gauls were afraid heretofore that the Heavens would fall on 'em, I think the Inhabitants of that Moon may well be apprehensive that Jupiter will at some time or other overwhelm 'em. They are, says she, I fancy, possess'd with that fear, because they are not con­cern'd at Eclipses: Every one has their due folly; we are afraid of an Eclipse, and they, that Jupiter will fall on their Heads. It is very true, said I, the Inventer of the third Systeme, I told you t'other [Page 114] night, the famous Ticho Brahe, (one of the greatest Astronomers that ever was,) did not apprehend the least danger from an Eclipse, when every body else was under the greatest consternation; yet this great Man had as an unaccountable a fear, did a hare cross him, or were the first Person he met in a morning an old Wo­man, home presently went Ticho Brahe, he shut himself up for that day, and would not meddle with the least Business.

Let us go on with ours tho', says the Countess, and leave Ticho Brahe to de­fend his Superstition. Pray tell me, if the Earth be so little in comparison of Jupiter, whether his Inhabitants do dis­cover us? Indeed, said I, I believe not; for if we appear to him ninety times less than he appears to us; judge you if there be any possibility: Yet this we may reasonably conjecture, that there are Astronomers in Jupiter, that after they have made the most curious Tele­scopes, and taken the clearest Night for their observations, they may have dis­cover'd a little Planet in the Heavens, [Page 115] which they never saw before; if they publish their discovery, most People know not what they mean, or laugh at 'em for Fools; nay, the Philosophers themselves will not believe 'em, for fear of destroying their own opinions; yet some few may be a little curious; they continue their observations, discover the little Planet again, and are now assur'd it is no Vision; then they con­clude it hath a motion round the Sun, which it compleats in a year, and at last, (thanks to the Learned,) they know in­ Jupiter our Earth is a World, every bo­dy runs to see it at the end of the Te­lescope, tho' 'tis so little, 'tis hardly dis­cover'd.

It must be pleasant, says she, to see the Astronomers of both Planets, level­ling their Tubes at one another, like two files of Musqueteers, and mutually asking, What World is that? What Peo­ple inhabit it? Not so fast neither, I reply'd, for tho' they may from Jupiter discover our Earth, yet they may not know us; that is, they may not have [Page 116] the least suspicion it is inhabited; and should any one there chance to have such a fancy, he might be sufficiently ridicul'd, if not prosecuted for it; for my part, I believe they have work e­nough to make discoveries on their own Planet, not to trouble their Heads with ours; and had Sir Francis Drake and Co­lumbus been in Jupiter, they might have had good employments; why, I warrant you, they have not yet discover'd the hundredth part of their Planet; when Mercury is so little, they are all (as it were) near Neighbours, and 'tis but taking a walk, to go round that Planet. But if we do not appear to 'em in Jupiter, they cannot certainly discover Venus and Mer­cury, which are much less than the Earth, and at a greater distance; but in lieu of it, they see Mars, their own four Moons, and Saturn, with his; this I think is work enough for their Astronomers; and Nature hath been so kind to conceal from 'em the rest of the Universe. Do you think it a favour then, says she? Yes, certainly, said I, for there are sixteen Pla­nets [Page 117] in this great Vortex: Nature saves us the trouble of studying the Motions of 'em all, and shows us but seven, which I think is very obliging, tho' we know not how to value the kindness, for we have recover'd the other nine which were hid from us, and so render'd the Science of Astronomy much more difficult than Nature design'd it.

If there are sixteen Planets, says she, Saturn must have five Moons. 'Tis very true, said I, and two of these five, are but lately discover'd; but there is some­what that is more remarkable, since his Year is thirty of ours, there are conse­quently in him some Countreys, where their Night is fifteen years long; and what can you imagine Nature hath in­vented to give light, during so dreadful a Night? Why, she hath not only given Saturn five Moons, but she hath encom­pass'd him round with a great Circle or Ring, the which being plac'd beyond the reach of the shadow which the Bo­dy of that Planet casts, reflects the light of the Sun continually on those places [Page 118] where they cannot see the Sun at all.

I protest, says the Countess, this is very surprizing, and yet all is contriv'd in such great order, that it is impossible not to think but Nature took time to consider the necessities of all animate Beings, and that the disposing of these Moons was not a work of Chance, for they are on­ly divided among those Planets which are farthest distant from the Sun, the Earth, Jupiter, Saturn; indeed it was not worth while to give any to Mercury or Venus, they have too much light already; and they account their nights (as short as they are) a greater blessing than their day. But pray, why has not Mars a Moon too? It seems he has none, tho' he is much further than the Earth from the Sun. It is very true, said I; no doubt but he hath other helps, tho' we do not know 'em: You have seen the Phosphorus, both liquid and dry, how it receives and imbibes the rays of the Sun, and what a great light it will cast in a dark Place: Perhaps Mars hath many great high Rocks, which are so many na­tural [Page 119] Phosphorus's, which in the day take in a certain provision of light, and re­turn it again at night. What think you, Madam, is it not very pleasant when the Sun is down to see those lighted Rocks, like so many Illuminations at a Birth day night? Besides, there is a kind of Bird in America, that yields such a light, you may read by it in the darkest night; and who knows but Mars may have great flocks of these Birds, that as soon as it is night, disperse themselves into all parts, and spread from their wings another day.

I am not at all contented, says she, with your Rocks, or your Birds; 'tis a pretty fancy indeed, but 'tis a sign that there should be Moons in Mars, since Na­ture hath given so many to Saturn, and Jupiter; and if all the other Worlds that are distant from the Sun, have Moons, why should Mars only be excepted? Ah, Madam, said I, when you are a little more dip'd in Philosophy, you will find exceptions in the very best Systemes; there are always some things that agree extream well, but then there are others [Page 120] that do not accord at all; those you must leave as you found 'em, if ever you in­tend to make an end: We will do so by Mars, if you please, and say no more of him; but return to Saturn. What do you think of his great Ring, in the form of a semy Circle, that reaches from one end of the Horizon to the other, which reflecting the light of the Sun, performs the office of a continual Moon. And must we not inhabit this Ring too, says she? I confess, said I, in the humour I am in, I could almost send Colonies every where; and yet I can't well plant any there, it seems so irregular an habitation; but for the five little Moons, they can­not chuse but be inhabited; tho' some think this Ring is a Circle of Moons, which follow close to one another, and have one equal Motion; and that the five little Moons fell out of this Circle; how many Worlds are there then in the Vor­tex of Saturn? But let it be how it will, the People in Saturn live very miserably: 'Tis true, this Ring gives light to 'em, but it must be a very poor one, when the [Page 121] Sun seems to 'em but a little pale Star, whose light and heat cannot but be ve­ry weak at so great a distance; they say Greenland is a perfect Bagnio in compa­rison of that Planet, and that they would expire with heat in our coldest Countreys.

You give me, says she, such an Idea of Saturn, that makes me shake with cold, and that of Mercury, puts me into a fea­ver. It cannot be otherwise, I reply'd, for the two Worlds, which are the ex­tremities of this great Vortex, must be opposite in all things. They must then, says she, be very wise in Saturn, for you told me they were all Fools in Mercury. If they are not wise, said I, yet they have all the appearances of being very Flegmatick: They are People that know not what 'tis to laugh, they take a days time to answer the least question you can ask 'em; and are so very grave, that were Cato living among 'em, they would think him a merry Andrew.

It is odd to consider, says she, that the Inhabitants of Mercury are all life, and the Inhabitants of Saturn quite contrary; [Page 122] but among us, some are brisk, and some are dull; it is, I suppose, because our Earth is plac'd in the middle of the other Worlds, and so we participate of both ex­treams, there is no fix'd or determin'd Character; some are made like the Inha­bitants of Mercury, some like those of Saturn; we are a mixture of the several kinds that are found in the rest of the Planets. Why, said I, do you not ap­prove of the Idea? Methinks it is plea­sant to be compos'd of such a fantastical Assembly, that one would think we were collected out of different Worlds; we need not travel, when we see the other Worlds in Epitome at home.

I am sure, says the Countess, we have one great convenience in the situation of our World; it is not so hot as Mer­cury or Venus, nor so cold as Jupiter or Saturn; and our Country is so justly plac'd, that we have no excess either of Heat or Cold. I have heard of a Philo­sopher, who gave thanks to Nature that he was born a Man, and not a Beast, a Greek, and not a Barbarian; and [Page 123] for my part, I render thanks that I am seated in the most temperate Planet of the Universe, and in one of the most temperate Regions of that Planet. You have more reason, said I, to give thanks that you are Young, and not Old; that you are Young and Handsome, and not Young and Ugly; that you are Young, Handsome, and an English Woman, and not Young, Handsome, and a Spaniard, or an Italian; these are other guess Sub­jects for your thanks, than the Situation of your Vortex, or the Temperature of your Countrey.

Pray Sir, says she, let me give thanks for all things, to the very Vortex in which I am planted: Our proportion of Happi­ness is so very small, that we should lose none, but improve continually what we have, and be grateful for every thing, tho' never so common or inconsiderable. If nothing but exquisite pleasure will serve us, we must wait a long time, and be sure to pay too dear for it at last. I wish, said I, that Philosophy was the pleasure you propose, that when you think of [Page 124] Vortex's, you would not forget an humble Servant of your Ladyships. I esteem it a pleasure, says she, while it diverts in­nocently, but no longer. I will engage for it till to morrow, I reply'd, for the fix'd Stars are beyond what you have yet seen.

The Fifth Evening.

THE Countess was very impatient to know what would become of the fix'd Stars; are they inhabited, says she, as the Planets are, or are they not inhabited? What shall we do with 'em? You may soon guess, said I; the fix'd Stars cannot be less distant from the Earth than fifty millions of leagues; nay, if you anger an Astronomer, he will set 'em fur­ther. The distance from the Sun to the farthest Planet, is nothing in comparison of the distance from the Sun, or from the Earth, to the fix'd Stars, it is almost be­yond Arithmetick. You see their light [Page 125] is bright and shining, and did they re­ceive it from the Sun, it must needs be very weak after a passage of fifty milli­ons of leagues; then judge how much it is wasted by reflection; for it comes back again as far to us; so that forwards and backwards, here are an hundred mil­lions of leagues for it to pass; and it is impossible it should be so clear and strong as the light of a fix'd Star, which cannot but proceed from it self; so that in a word, all the fix'd Stars are so many Suns.

I perceive, says the Countess, where you would carry me; you are going to tell me, that if the fix'd Stars are so many Suns, and our Sun the centre of a Vortex that turns round him, why may not e­very fix'd Star be the centre of a Vortex that turns round the fix'd Star? Our Sun enlightens the Planets; why may not e­very fix'd Star have Planets to which they give light? You have said it, I reply'd, and I will not contradict you.

You have made the Universe so large, says she, that I know not where I am, or [Page 126] what will become of me; what is it all to be divided into heaps confusedly, one among another? Is every Star the centre of a Vortex, as big as ours? Is that vast space which comprehends our Sun and Planets, but an inconsiderable part of the Universe? and are there as many such spaces, as there are fix'd Stars? I protest it is dreadful. Dreadful, Madam, said I; I think it very pleasant, when the Heavens were a little blue Arch, stuck with Stars; methought the Universe was too strait and close, I was almost stifled for want of Air; but now it is enlarg'd in heigth and breadth, and a thousand and a thousand Vortex's taken in; I begin to breath with more freedom, and think the Uni­verse to be incomparably more magni­ficent than it was before. Nature hath spar'd no cost, even to profuseness, and nothing can be so glorious, as to see such a prodigious number of Vortex's, whose several centres are possess'd by a particular Sun, which makes the Planets turn round it. The Inhabitants of a Planet of one of these innumerable Vortex's, see on all [Page 127] sides these luminous centres of the Vor­tex, with which they are encompass'd; but perhaps they do not see the Planets, who receiving but a faint light from their Sun, cannot send it beyond their own World.

You present me with a kind of Per­spective of so vast a length, that no Eye can reach to the end of it: I plainly see the Inhabitants of the Earth, and you have made me discover those that dwell in the Moon, and in other Planets of our Vortex; but these indeed I do not see so clearly as those of the Earth; after these, we come to the Inhabitants of the Planets which are in other Vortex's, but they are sunk into so great a depth, that tho' I do all I can to see them, yet I must confess I can hardly perceive 'em; by the expression you use in speaking of 'em, they seem to be almost annihilated; you ought then to call 'em the Inhabi­tants of one of those innumerable Vor­tex's: We our selves, for whom the same expression serves, must confess, that we scarce know where we are, in the midst [Page 128] of so many Worlds; for my own part, I begin to see the Earth so fearfully little, that I believe from henceforth, I shall ne­ver be concern'd at all for any thing: That we so eagerly desire to make our selves great, that we are always designing, always troubling and harassing our selves, is certainly because we are ignorant what these Vortex's are; but now I hope my new lights will in part justifie my lazi­ness, and when any one reproaches me with my carelessness, I will answer, Ah did you but know what the fix'd Stars are! It was not fit, said I, that Alex­ander should know what they were; for a certain Author who maintains that the Moon is inhabited, very gravely tells us, that Aristotle, (from whom no truth could be long conceal'd) must necessari­ly be of an opinion, back'd with so much reason; but yet he would never acquaint Alexander with the secret, fearing he might run mad with despair, when he knew there was another World, which he could not conquer; with much more reason then was this mystery of Vortex's, [Page 129] and fix'd Stars kept secret in Alexander's time; for tho' they had been known in those days, yet a Man would have been a great Fool, to have said any thing of 'em to Alexander; it had been but an ill way of making his court to that ambitious Prince; for my part, I that know 'em, am not a little troubled to find my self not one jot the wiser for all the know­ledge I have of 'em; the most they can do, according to your way of reasoning, is but to cure People of their ambition, and their unquiet restless humour, which are diseases I am not at all troubled with; I confess, I am guilty of so much weak­ness, as to be in love with what is beau­tiful; that's my distemper, and I am con­fident, the Vortex's can never cure it: what if the other Worlds render ours so very little? they cannot spoil fine Eyes, or a pretty Mouth; their value is still the same, in spite of all the Worlds that can possibly exist.

This Love, reply'd the Countess, smi­ling, is a strange thing; let the World go how 'twill, 'tis never in danger; there [Page 130] is no System can do it any harm. But tell me freely, is your System true? Pray conceal nothing from me; I will keep your secret very faithfully; it seems to have for its foundation, but a slight probability; which is, that if a fix'd Star be in it self a luminous Body, like the Sun, then by consequence, it must as the Sun is, be the Centre and Soul of a World; and have its Planets turning round about it: But is there an absolute necessity it must be so? Madam, said I, since we are in the humour of mingling amorous Follies with our most serious Discourses, I must tell you, that in Love and the Mathematicks People reason alike: Allow never so little to a Lover, yet presently after you must grant him more; nay more and more, which will at last go a great way: In like man­ner, grant but a Mathematician one little Principle, he immediately draws a con­sequence from it, to which you must ne­cessarily assent; and from this conse­quence another, till he leads you so far (whether you will or no) that you have [Page 131] much ado to believe him. These two sorts of People, Lovers and Mathemati­cians, will always take more than you give 'em. You grant that when two things are like one another in all those things that appear to you, it is possible they may be like one another in those things that are not visible, if you have not some good reason to believe otherwise: Now this way of arguing have I made use of. The Moon, say I, is inhabited, because she is like the Earth; and the o­ther Planets are inhabited, because they are like the Moon; I find the fix'd Stars to be like our Sun, therefore I attribute to them what is proper to that: You are now gone too far to be able to retreat, therefore you must go forward with a good grace. But, says the Countess, if you build upon this resemblance or like­ness which is between our Sun and the fix'd Stars, then, to the People of ano­ther great Vortex, our Sun must appear no bigger than a small fix'd Star, and can be seen only when 'tis Night with them. Without doubt, Madam, said I, it must [Page 132] be so: Our Sun is much nearer to us, than the Suns of other Vortex's, and therefore its Light makes a much greater impression on our Eyes, than theirs do: We see nothing but the light of our own Sun, and when we see that, it darkens and hinders us from seeing any other light: but in another great Vortex, there is a­nother Sun, which rules and governs, and, in its turn, extinguisheth the light of our Sun, which is never seen there, but in the Night, with the rest of the other Suns, that is the fix'd Stars; with them our Sun is fastned to the great arched roof of Heaven, where it makes a part of some Bear or Bull: For the Planets which turn round about it, (our Earth for Example) as they are not seen at so vast a distance, so no body doth so much as dream of 'em: All the Suns then are Day Suns in their own Vortex's, but Night Suns in other Vortex's: In his own World or Sphere every Sun is single, and there is but one to be seen; but every where else, they serve only to make a number. May not the Worlds, reply'd the Countess, [Page 133] notwithstanding this great resemblance between 'em, differ in a thousand other things; for tho' they may be alike in one particular, they may differ infinitely in others.

It is certainly true, said I; but the difficulty is to know wherein they differ. One Vortex hath many Planets that turn round about its Sun; another Vortex hath but a few: In one Vortex, there are inferiour or less Planets, which turn a­bout those that are greater; in another perhaps, there are no inferiour Planets; here, all the Planets are got round about their Sun, in form of a little Squadron; beyond which, is a great void space, which reacheth to the neighbouring Vor­tex's: In another place, the Planets take their course towards the out side of their Vortex, and leave the middle void. There may be Vortex's also quite void, without any Planets at all; others may have their Sun not exactly in their Centre; and that Sun may so move, as to carry its Planets along with it: others may have Planets which in regard of their Sun, a­scend [Page 134] and descend, according to the change of their Equilibration, which keeps them suspended. But I think I have said enough for a Man that was never out of his own Vortex.

It is not so much, reply'd the Countess, considering what a multitude of Worlds there are; what you have said is suffi­cient but for five or six, and from hence I see thousands.

What, Madam, would you say, if I should tell you, there are many more fix'd Stars than those you see? and that an infinite number are discover'd with Glasses, which never shew'd themselves to our Eyes: In only one Constellation, where it may be, we count twelve or fifteen, there are as many to be found as usually appear in the whole Hemisphere.

I submit, says the Countess, and beg your pardon: You quite confound me with Worlds and Vortex's. I have yet more to tell you, Madam, said I: You see that whiteness in the Sky, which some call the milky way; Can you imagine what that is? 'Tis nothing but an infini­ty [Page 135] of small Stars, not to be seen by our Eyes, because they are so very little; and they are sown so thick, one by another, that they seem to be one cotinu'd white­ness: I wish you had a Glass, to see this Ant-hill of Stars, and this Cluster of Worlds, if I may so call 'em: They are in some sort, like the Maldivian Islands: those twelve thousand banks of Sand, se­parated by narrow Channels of the Sea, which a Man may leap as easily, as over a Ditch: So near together are the Vor­tex's of the Milky way, that the People in one World, may talk, and shake Hands with those of another; at least I believe, the Birds of one World, may easily fly in­to another; and that Pigeons may be train'd up to carry Letters, as they do in the Levant. These little Worlds are ex­cepted out of that general Rule, by which one Sun in his own Vortex, as soon as he appears, effaceth the light of all other for­reign Suns: If you were in one of these little Vortex's of the Milky way, your Sun would not be much nearer to you, and consequently, would not make any much [Page 136] greater sensible impression on your Eyes, than a hundred thousand other Suns of the neighbouring Vortex's: You would then see your Heaven shine bright with an infinite number of Fires, close to one another, and but a little distant from you; so that tho' you should lose the light of your own particular Sun, yet there would still remain visible Suns enough beside your own, to make your Night as light as Day, at least, the difference would hard­ly be perceiv'd, for the truth is, you would never have any Night at all: The Inhabitants of these Worlds accustom'd to perpetual Brightness, would be strange­ly astonish'd, if they should be told that there are a miserable sort of People, who where they live, have very dark Nights, and when 'tis Day with them, they ne­ver see more than one Sun; certainly they would think Nature had very little kindness for us, and would tremble with horrour, to think what a sad condition we are in.

I do not ask you, said the Countess, whether in those Worlds of the Milkyway, [Page 137] there be any Moons; I see they would be of no use to those principal Planets which have no Night, and move in spaces too strait and narrow to cumber themselves with the baggage of inferiour Planets: Yet pray take notice, that by your liberal multiplication of Worlds, you have started an objection, not easily an­swer'd: The Vortex's whose Suns we see, touch the Vortex in which we are, and if it be true, that Vortex's are round, how then can so many Bowls or Globes all touch one single one? I would fain imagine how this may be done, but can­not think which way.

You shew a great deal of Wit, Ma­dam, said I, in raising this doubt, and likewise in not being able to resolve it; for in it self the thing is extreme difficult, and in the manner you conceive it, no answer can be given to it; and he must be a Fool who goes about to find An­swers to Objections which are unanswera­ble. If our Vortex had the form of a Die, it would have six squares or flat faces, and would be far from being round, [Page 138] and upon every of these Squares, might be plac'd a Vortex of the same Figure, but if in stead of these six Square faces, it had twenty, fifty, or a thousand; then might a thousand Vortex's be plac'd up­on it, one upon every flat; and you know very well, that the more flat faces any body hath on its outside, the near­er it approacheth to roundness, just as a Diamond cut facet-wise on every side, if the facets be very many and little, it will look as round as a Pearl of the same bigness: 'Tis in this manner that the Vor­tex's are round; they have an infinite number of facets on their outside, and every one of 'em hath upon it another Vortex; these faces are not all equal and alike; but here, some are greater, and there, some less; The least facets of our Vortex, for Example, answer to the Milky way, and sustain all those little Worlds. When two Vortex's are sup­ported by the two next flats on which they stand, if they leave beneath any void space between them, as it must often happen, Nature, who is an excellent [Page 139] Huswife, and suffers nothing to be useless, presently fills up this void space with a little Vortex or two, perhaps with a thou­sand, which never in commode the others, and become one, two, or a thousand Worlds more; so that there may be ma­ny more Worlds than our Vortex hath flat faces to bear 'em: I will lay a good wager, that tho' these little Worlds were made only to be thrown into the corners of the Universe, which otherwise would have been void and useless; and tho' they are unknown to other Worlds which they touch, yet they are well satisfy'd with their being where they are: These are the little Worlds, whose Suns are not to be discover'd but with a Tellescope, and whose number is prodigious: to conclude, all these Vortex's are joyn'd to one ano­ther in so admirable a manner, that eve­ry one turns round about his Sun, with­out changing place; every one hath such a turn as is most easie, and agree­able to its own situation: they take hold of one another, like the wheels of a Watch, and mutually help one anothers [Page 140] motion: And yet 'tis true, that they act contrary to one another. Every World, as some say, is like a Foot-ball, made of a Bladder, cover'd with Leather, which sometimes swells of its own accord, and would extend it self, if it were not hin­dred. But this swelling World being press'd by the next to it, returns to its first Figure; then swells again, and is a­gain deprest; and some affirm that the reason why the fix'd Stars give a twink­ling and trembling light, and sometimes seem not to shine at all, is because their Vortex's perpetually push and press our Vortex, and ours again continually re­pulseth theirs.

I am in love with these Fancies, said the Countess; I am pleas'd with these Foot-balls, which swell every moment, and sink again, and with these Worlds, which are continually striving and push­ing one another: But above all, I am pleas'd to see how this justling keeps up the trade of Light, which is certain­ly the only correspondence that is be­tween them.

[Page 141]No, no, Madam, said I; Light is not their sole commerce; the Neighbouring Worlds sometimes send visits to us, and that in a very magnificent and splendid manner: There come Comets to us from thence, adorn'd with bright shin­ing Hair, Venerable Beards, or Maje­stick Tails; these said the Countess are Embassadors, whose Visits may be well spared, since they serve onely to affright us. They scare only Children, said I, with their extraordinary train; but indeed, the number of such Children is now a days very great. Comets are nothing but Planets, which belong to a Neigh­bouring Vortex, they move towards the out-side of it; but perhaps this Vor­tex being differently press'd by those Vortex's which encompass it, it is round­er above than it is below, and it is the lower part that is still towards us. These Planets which have begun to move in a Circle above, are not aware that below their Vortex will fail 'em, because it is as it were broken. Therefore to con­tinue the Circular Motion, it is necessary [Page 142] that they enter into another Vortex, which we will suppose is ours, and that they cut through the outsides of it. They appear to us very high, and are much higher than Saturn, and according to our System, it is absolutely necessary they should be so high, for Reasons that signifie nothing to our present subject. From Saturn downwards to the outsides of our Vortex, there is a great void space without any Planets. Our Adversaries often ask us, to what purpose this void space serves? but let them not trouble themselves any more, I have found an use for it. 'Tis the Apartment of those strange Planets, which come into our World.

I understand you, says she, we do not suffer them to come into the heart of our Vortex, among our own Planets, but we receive them as the Grand Sig­nior doth the Embassadours that are sent to him; he will not shew them so much respect as to let 'em Lodge in Constanti­nople, but Quarters 'em in one of the Suburbs of the City: Madam, said I, [Page 143] we, and the Ottomans agree likewise in this, that as they receive Embassadours, but never send any, so we never send a­ny of our Planets into the Worlds that are next us.

By this, says she, it appears that we are very proud, however I do not yet very well know what I am to believe. These forreign Planets with thei Tails and their Beards have a terrible Counte­nance, it may be they are sent to affront us; but ours that are of another make, if they should get into other Worlds, are not so proper to make people a­fraid.

Their Beards and their Tails Madam, said I, are not real, they are Phaenome­na, and but meer Appearances. These forreign Planets differ in nothing from ours, but entring into our Vortex, they seem to us to have Tails or Beards, by a certain sort of Illumination which they receive from the Sun, and which hath not been yet well explain'd. But certain it is, that 'tis but a kind of illu­mination, and when I am able I will [Page 144] tell you how 'tis done. I wish then, says she, that our Saturn would go take a Tail or a Beard in another Vortex, and affright all the Inhabitants of it. That done, I would have him come back a­gain, leaving his terrible Accoutrements behind him, and taking his usual place a­mongst our other Planets, fall to his ordinary business. 'Tis better for him, said I, not to go out of our Vortex. I have told you how rude and violent the Shock is, when two Vortex's justle one another, a poor Planet must needs be terribly shaken, and its Inhabitants in no better condition. We think our selves very unhappy when a Comet ap­pears, but 'tis the Comet that is in an ill case. I do not believe that, say she, it brings all its Inhabitants with it in very good health; there can be nothing so diverting as to change Vortex's. We that never go out of our own, lead but a dull Life; if the Inhabitants of a Co­met had but the wit to foresee the time when they are to come into our world, they that had already made the Voyage, [Page 145] would tell their Neighbours before­hand what they should see, they would tell them, that they would discover a Planet with a great Ring about it, mean­ing our Saturn, they would also say, you shall see another Planet which hath four little ones to wait on it; and perhaps some of them, resolv'd to observe the ve­ry Moment of their entring into our World, would presently cry out A New Sun, a New Sun, as Sailors use to cry Land, Land.

You have no reason then, said I, to pity the Inhabitants of a Comet, yet I suppose you will think their Condition lamentable, who inhabit a Vortex whose Sun comes in time to be quite extinguish­ed, and consequently live in Eternal Night. How? cry'd the Countess, can Suns be put out? Yes, without doubt said I, for People some thousand years ago saw fix'd Stars in the Sky, which are now no more to be seen; these were Suns which have lost their Light, and certainly there must be strange Desolation in their Vortex's, and a general Morta­lity [Page 146] over all the Planets, for what can People do without a Sun? This is a dis­mal Fancy, said the Countess, I would not if I could help it, let it come into my head. I will tell you if you please, I re­ply'd, what in this particular is the Opi­nion of Learned Astronomers. They think that the fix'd Stars which have disappear'd, are not quite extinguish'd, but that they are half Suns, that is, they have one half Dark, and the other half Light, and turning round upon their own Axis or Centre, they sometimes shew us their Light side, and afterwards turning to us their Dark side, we see them no more. To oblige you Madam, I will be of this Opinion, because it is not so harsh as the other, but I cannot make it good, but in relation to some certain Stars, because as some have lately observed, those Stars have their Regula­ted times of appearing, and disappearing, otherwise there could be no such thing as half Suns. But what shall we say of Stars, which totally disappear, and never shew themselves again after they have [Page 147] finish'd their Course of turning round upon their own Axis? you are too just Madam to oblige me to believe that such Stars are half Suns. However I will try once more what I can do in favour of your Opinion; the Suns are not extinct, they are only sunk so low into the immense depth of Heaven, that we cannot possi­bly see them, in this Case the Vortex follows his Sun and all's well again. 'Tis true, that the greatest part of the fix'd Stars have not this motion, by which they remove themselves so far from us, because at other times they might re­turn again nearer to us, and we should see them sometimes greater, and some­times less, which never happens. But we will suppose that none but the Lit­tle, Light, and most Active Vortex's which slip between the others make cer­tain voyages, after which they return a­gain, while the main body of Vortex's re­main unmov'd. 'Tis likewise very strange that some fix'd Stars shew themselves to us, spending a great deal of time in ap­pearing, and disappearing, and at last, totally and entirely disappear. Half Suns [Page 148] would appear again at their set and re­gulated time. Now Madam, boldly de­clare your Opinion; Must not these Stars of necessity be Suns which are so much darkned as not to be visible to us, yet afterwards shine again, and at last are wholly extinct? How can a Sun said the Countess, be darkned, and quite extinguish'd, when it is in its own Nature a Fountain of Light? It may be done Madam, said I, with all the ease in the world, if Descàrtes Opinion be true, that our Sun hath Spots; now whether these Spots be Scum or thick Mists, or what you please, they may thicken and unite, till at last they cover the Sun with a Crust, which daily grows thicker, and then Farewell Sun. We have hitherto scap'd pretty well; but 'tis said, that the Sun for some whole years together hath look'd very pale; for Example, the year after Caesar's death; it was this Crust that then began to grow, but the force of the Sun broke and dissipated it; had it con­tinued, we had been all lost People. You make me tremble, reply'd the Countess; and now I know the fatal consequences [Page 149] of the Sun's paleness, I believe, instead of going every morning to my Glass, to see how I look, I shall cast my Eyes up to Hea­ven, to see whether or no the Sun looks pale. Oh, Madam, said I, there is a great deal of time required to ruine a World. Grant it, said she, yet 'tis but time that is required. I confess it, said I; all this immense mass of Matter that composes the Universe, is in perpetual motion, no part of it excepted; and since every part is moved, you may be sure that changes must happen sooner or la­ter; but still in times proportioned to the Effect. The Ancients were pleasant Gentle­men, to imagine that the celestial Bodies were in their own nature unchangeable, because they observed no change in them; but they did not live long enough to confirm their opinion by their own experience; they were Boys in comparison of us. Give me leave, Madam, to explain my self by an Allegory: If Roses, which last but a day, could write Histories, and leave Memoirs one to another; and if the first Rose should draw an exact Picture of their Gardiner, and after fifteen thousand Rose-Ages, it should be left to o­ther Roses, and so left still to those that should succeed, without any change in it; should the Roses hereupon say, we have every day seen the same Gardiner, and in the memory of Roses, none ever saw any Gardiner but [Page 150] this; he is still the same he was, and therefore certainly he will never die, as we do; for there is no change at all in him. Would not these Roses, Madam, talk very foolishly? and yet there would be more reason in their di­scourse, than there was in what the Ancients said concerning celestial Bodies; and tho' e­ven to this very day there should appear no visible change in the Heavens, and the matter of which they are made, should have all the signs of an eternal duration without any change; yet I would not believe 'em unchange­able, till I had the experience of many more Ages. Ought we, who last but a moment, make our continuance the measure of any other things duration; 'tis not so easie a matter to be eternal. To have lasted many Ages of Men, one after another, is no sign of Immor­tality. Truly, says the Countess, I find the Worlds are far from being able to pretend to it; I will not do 'em so much honour, as to om­pare 'em to the Gardiner that lived so much longer than the Roses: I begin to think 'em like the Roses themselves, which blow one day, and die the next: For now I understand, that if old Stars disappear, new ones will come in their room, because every species must preserve it self. No species, Madam, said I, can totally perish; some perhaps will tell you, that such new Stars are Suns, which return to [Page 151] our sight again, after they have been a long time hid from us, in the profundity of Hea­ven: Others may tell you, they are Suns cleared from that thick crust, which once co­vered them: If I should think all this possi­ble, yet I likewise believe that the Universe may be framed in such a manner, that from time to time it may produce new Suns; why may not that matter which is proper to make a Sun, be dispers'd here and there, and gather it self again at long run, into one certain place, and lay the foundation of a new World? I am very much inclin'd to believe such new productions, because they suit with that glo­rious and admirable Idea which I have of the works of Nature. Can we think that wise Nature knows no more than the secret of making Herbs and Plants live and die by a continual revolution? I am verily perswaded, and are not you so too, Madam? that Nature, without much cost or pains can put the same secret in practice, upon the Worlds. I now find, says the Countess, the Worlds, the Hea­ven, and celestial Bodies so subject to change, that I am come to my self again. To come the better again to our selves, I reply'd, let us say no more of these Matters. We are arrived at the very roof and top of all the Heavens; and to tell you whether there be any Stars beyond it, you must have an abler [Page 152] Man than I am; you may place Worlds there, or no Worlds, as you please: 'Tis the Phi­losopher's Empire to describe those vast invi­sible Countries, which are, and are not, or are such as he pleases to make 'em: It is e­nough for me, to have carried your mind as far as you can see with your Eyes.

Well, says the Countess, I have now in my Head, the System of the Universe: How learned am I become? Indeed, Madam, said I, you are pretty knowing, and you are so with the advantage of believing, or not be­lieving any thing I have said: For all my pains, I only beg this favour, that when e­ver you see the Sun, the Heaven, or the Stars, you will think of me.