Transcriber Note
Text emphasis denoted as _Italics_.
[Illustration: FONTENELLE.]
CONVERSATIONS
ON THE
_PLURALITY OF WORLDS_.
══════════════
BY
BERNARD DE FONTENELLE,
One of the Forty belonging to the French Academy;
and Secretary to the Academy of Sciences.
══════════════
WITH NOTES,
AND A CRITICAL ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS,
BY
_JEROME DE LA LANDE_,
SENIOR DIRECTOR OF THE OBSERVATORY AT PARIS.
══════════════
Translated from a late Paris Edition, by
MISS ELIZABETH GUNNING.
══════════════
London:
PRINTED BY J. CUNDEE, IVY-LANE;
SOLD BY T. HURST, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1803.
CRITICAL ACCOUNT
OF THE
_Life and Writings of the Author_,
BY
JEROME DE LA LANDE.
══════════════
Whenever I have entered into conversation with any sensible woman
on astronomy, I have always found that she had read Fontenelle's
Plurality of Worlds; and that his book had excited her curiosity on
the subject. As it has been so much read already, it must continue to
engage attention: I therefore thought it would be useful to point out
its faults; to add some observations, without which the reader would
be led into error with respect to the vortices; to make known the late
discoveries; and to shew what numbers, before our author, had written
on the plurality of worlds. But I have made no alterations in the text;
the reputation of Fontenelle renders him respectable, even in his
mistakes.
The Astronomy for Ladies, which I have published as a substitute for
this book, would be more instructive, but less amusing; therefore, as
it will be but little read, I shall endeavour to supply the defects of
Fontenelle's work, by adding to the original some ideas more exact than
his own.
M. Codrika has translated it into Greek, with explanations taken from
my Astronomy.
M. Bode has translated it into German; and his translation has already
gone through three editions: the last is that of 1798, Berlin, in
octavo, Bernard de Fontenelle, _Dialogen ueber die Mehrheit der
Welten_.
When Voltaire published, in 1738, his Essays on the Elements of Newton,
he began with these words: "Here is no Marchioness; no imaginary
philosophy." It was supposed that he here alluded to Fontenelle; this
he contradicts by saying: "so far from having his book in view, I
publicly declare that I consider it one of the best works that ever
were written." (Mem. de Trublet, p. 135).
This book has been printed a hundred times; the handsome edition of
Fontenelle's Works, in folio, published at the Hague in 1728,[1] with
figures by Bernard Pickart; the still more beautiful edition of the
Worlds alone, edited by Didot the younger, in 1797, in folio, are
master-pieces of typography; but in them nothing is found but the
original work; therefore I consider our edition far preferable.
[Footnote 1: That edition does not contain the account of the bees,
which is in the present edition.]
I shall here give a short account of the author of this work.
Bernard le Bovier[2] de Fontenelle was born at Bouen, February 11,
1657. He died January 9, 1757.
[Footnote 2: Lebeau writes the name le Bouyer, from the family name, in
the Mémoires de l'Académie des Inscriptions; but it is pronounced le
Bovier. (Mem. p. 19.)]
The first efforts of his genius were directed to poetry: at the age of
thirteen he had composed a Latin poem: about the year 1683 he devoted
himself to literature and philosophy. In 1699 he began l'Historie de
l'Académie des Sciences, which he continued with great success during
forty-two years. Few persons have contributed more to the progress of
the sciences than he has done, by accommodating them to every capacity,
and inspiring by his panegyrics, a love of study. For my part, I feel
a pleasure in acknowledging that I am indebted to him for the germ of
that insatiable activity of mind I have experienced ever since the
age of sixteen. I could find nothing in the world like the Academy of
Sciences, and ardently wished for the happiness of seeing it, long
before I had any idea of the possibility of one day belonging to it.
In 1727 he published his Elemens de la Géométrie de l'infini; this
was merely the amusement of a man of genius who had heard a little of
geometry, and chose to hazard his opinions on the subject.
We may find an eulogium on our author in l'Historie de l'Académie des
Sciences for 1757, in the Mémoires de l'Académie des Belles-Lettres,
and in a work written entirely on the subject, published by Trublet in
the year 1761, entitled Mémoires pour servir à l'Historie de la vie
et des Ouvrages de Fontenelle. In these memoirs a particular critique
shews us the various merits of Fontenelle's works: there is also an
article by Trublet in the edition of Moréri, published in 1759.
I have remarked in the twentieth book of my Astronomy, that in every
period of time it has been believed that the planets were inhabited, on
account of their resemblance to the earth. The idea of the plurality
of worlds is expressed in the Orphics, those ancient Grecian poems
attributed to Orpheus (_Plut. de Placitis Philosoph. l. 2, cap. 13_.)
Proclus has preserved some verses in which we find that the writer
of the Orphics places mountains, men, and cities in the moon. The
Pythagoreans, such as Philolaüs, Hicetas, Heraclides, taught that the
stars were all worlds. Several ancient philosophers even admitted an
infinity of worlds beyond the reach of our sight. Epicurus, Lucretius,
and all the Epicureans were of the same opinion; and Metrodorus thought
it as absurd to imagine but one world in the immensity of space, as to
say that only one ear of corn could grow in a great extent of country.
Zeno of Eleusis, Anaximenes, Anaximander, Leucippus, Democritus,
asserted the same thing: in short, there were some philosophers who,
although they did not consider the rest of the planets inhabited,
placed inhabitants in the moon; such were Anaxagorus, Xenophanes,
Lucian, Plutarch, (_De Oracular. defectu. De Facie in orbe Lunæ_,)
Eusebius, Stobius. We may see a long list of the ancients who have
treated on the subject, in Fabricius, (_Biblio. Græcæ, t. 1. cap.
20_.) and in the Mémoire de Bonamy (Acad. des Inscriptions, tom. ix.)
Hevelius appeared as firmly persuaded of this opinion in 1647, when he
talked of the difference between the inhabitants of the two hemispheres
of the moon: he calls them _selenitæ_, and examines at length all
the phœnomena observed in their planet, after the example of Kepler
(_Astron. Lunaris_.) It was maintained at Oxford, in certain themes
which are mentioned in the News of the Republic of Letters, June 1784,
that the system of Pythagoras on the inhabitants of the moon was well
founded: two years afterwards Fontenelle discussed this subject in his
agreeable work. There are farther details of the different astronomical
opinions at the end of Gregory's book. For the objections, we may refer
to Riccioli. (_Almagestum, tom. 1, p. 188, 204_). In 1686 the Plurality
of Worlds was adorned by Fontenelle with all the beauties of which a
philosophical work was susceptible. Huygens (who died in 1695) in his
book entitled Cosmothéoros, published in 1698, likewise enters largely
into the subject.
The resemblance between the earth and the other planets is so striking,
that if we allow the earth to have been formed for habitation, we
cannot deny that the planets were made for the same purpose; for if
there is, in the nature of things, a connection between the earth and
the men who inhabit it, a similar connexion must exist between the
planets and beings who inhabit them.
We see six planets around the sun, the earth is the third; they all
move in elliptical orbits; they have all a rotatory motion like the
earth, as well as spots, irregularities, mountains: some of them have
satellites, the earth has one satellite: Jupiter is flattened like our
world; in short there is every possible resemblance between the planets
and the earth: is it, then, rational to suppose the existence of living
and thinking beings is confined to the earth? From what is such a
privilege derived but the groveling minds of persons who can never rise
above the objects of their immediate sensations?
Lambert believed that even the comets were inhabited. (Systême du
Monde, Bouillon; 1770.) Buffon determines the period when each
planet became habitable, and when it will cease to be so, from its
refrigeration. (Suplèmens, in 4to. tom. 11.) What I have said of
planets that turn round the sun, will naturally extend to all the
planetary systems which environ the fixed stars; every star being an
immoveable and luminous body, having light in itself, may properly
be compared with our sun. We must conclude that if our sun serves to
attract and enlighten the planets which surround it, the fixed stars
have the same use. It is thought that the sun and fixed stars are
uninhabitable because they are composed of fire; yet M. Knight, in a
work written to explain all the phœnomena of nature, by attraction and
repulsion, endeavours to prove that the sun and stars may be habitable
worlds, and that the people in them may possibly suffer from extreme
cold. M. Herschel likewise thinks the sun is inhabited (Philos. Trans.
179. p. 155, et suiv.)
Some timid, superstitious writers have reprobated this system, as
contrary to religion: they little knew how to promote the glory of
their Creator. If the immensity of his works announce his power, can
any idea be more calculated than this to exhibit their magnificence and
sublimity? We see with the naked eye, several thousands of stars; in
every part of the firmament we discover with telescopes, innumerable
others; with more perfect telescopes, we still find a multitude more.
We compute, from the number seen through Herschel's telescopes in one
region of the sky, that there are a hundred millions. Imagination
pierces beyond the extent of vision, beholding multitudes of unknown
worlds, infinitely more in number than those which are visible to our
sight; and ranges unrestrained in the boundless space of creation.
Our only difficulty with respect to the inhabitants of so many millions
of planets, is the obscurity of the final causes, which it is difficult
to admit when we see into what errors the greatest philosophers have
fallen; for instance Fermat, Leibnitz, Maupertius, &c. in attempting
to employ these final causes or metaphysical suppositions of imagined
relations between effects that we see and the causes we assign them, or
the ends for which we believe them to exist.
If the plurality of worlds be admitted without difficulty; if the
planets are believed to be inhabited, it is because the earth is
considered merely as a habitation for man, from which it is inferred
that were the planets uninhabited they would be useless: but I
will venture to assert that such a mode of reasoning is confined,
unphilosophic, and at the same time, presumptuous. What are we in
comparison of the universe? Do we know the extent, the properties, the
destination, and the connexions of nature? Is our existence, formed
as we are, of a few frail atoms, to be considered any thing when we
think of the greatness of the whole? Can _we_ add to the perfection
and grandeur of the universe? These ideas are expressed by Saussure,
who in speaking of a traveller to Mont-blanc says: "if, during his
meditations, the thought of the insignificant beings that move on the
face of the earth offers itself to his mind, if he compares their
duration with the grand epochs of nature, how great will be his
astonishment that man, occupying so small a space, existing so short
a time, can ever imagine that his being is the only end for which the
universe was created."
From these considerations d'Alembert, in the Encyclopedia, (art. World)
after examining the arguments for supposing the planets inhabited,
concludes by saying: _the subject is enveloped in total obscurity_.
But Buffon affirms that wherever there is a certain degree of heat, the
motion produces organized beings; we need not enquire in what way, but
imagine these to be the inhabitants of the planets: if that should be
the case, we may conclude it highly probable that they are inhabited,
notwithstanding the preceding objections.
_LA LANDE._
1802.
_LINES ON FONTENELLE._
[Illustration]
Muse! if thou canst, this picture's truth excel;
Strive to pourtray the _soul_ of Fontenelle:
Him, to whose works, with wit and judgment warm,
Indulgent Nature, gave a magic charm.--
'Twas his to strew with flowers the toilsome road,
Which leads to Science in her dark abode;
And while he touch'd the pastoral reed, to prove,
That courtly pomp, must yield to rural love.
A Lucian rising from the silent tomb,
'Twas his, to pierce through Error's doubtful gloom;
And, with resistless eye, at once to dart
Full on the hidden secrets of the heart.--
Union divine!--in Fontenelle we find
A glowing genius, and a gentle mind!
_PREFACE_
BY
BERNARD DE FONTENELLE.
_I find myself nearly in the situation of Cicero, when he undertook to
write in his own language on philosophical subjects, that, till then,
had never been treated of but in Greek. He tells us that his works
were said to be useless, because those who delighted in philosophy,
having taken the pains to study the books written in Greek, would not
afterwards think of examining his Latin ones, which were not originals;
and that persons who had no taste for philosophy, would neither care
for the Greek nor the Latin._
_To which he answers, that exactly the contrary would happen; that the
unlearned would be allured to philosophy by the facility of reading
Latin works; and that the well-informed, after studying the Greek
authors, would be pleased to see how the subjects were handled in
Latin._
_Cicero might with propriety speak in this manner; his superior genius
and great celebrity assured him success in this untried project, but
I have not the same advantages to inspire me with confidence, in a
similar undertaking. I was desirous of representing philosophy in a
way that was not philosophical; I have attempted to compose a book that
shall neither be too abstruse for the gay, nor too amusive for the
learned. But if what was said to Cicero should be repeated to me, I
could not venture to answer as he did: possibly in attempting to find
a middle way which would accommodate philosophy to every class, I have
chosen one that will not be agreeable to any. It is very difficult to
maintain a medium, and I think I shall never be inclined to make a
second attempt of this nature._
_I should warn those that have some knowledge of natural philosophy,
that I do not suppose this book capable of giving them any information;
it will merely afford them some amusement, by presenting in a lively
manner what they have already become acquainted with by dint of study.
I would also inform those who are ignorant of these subjects that it
has been my design to amuse and instruct them at the same time: the
former will counteract my intention if they here expect improvement,
and the latter, if they here only seek for entertainment._
_I need not say that of all philosophical subjects I have chosen that
which is most calculated to excite curiosity: surely nothing ought to
interest us more than to know how our own world is formed; and whether
there be other worlds similar to it, and inhabited in the same way: but
let no one be disquieted if unable to answer these enquiries; they who
have time to spare may examine such subjects; many have it not in their
power._
_In these Conversations I have represented a woman receiving
information on things with which she was entirely unacquainted. I
thought this fiction would enable me to give the subject more ornament,
and would encourage the female sex in the pursuit of knowledge, by the
example of a woman who though ignorant of the sciences, is capable of
understanding all she is told, and arranging in her ideas the worlds
and vortices. Why should any woman allow the superiority of this
imaginary Marchioness, who only believes what she could not avoid
understanding?_
_'Tis true, she gives some attention to the subject, but what sort of
attention is requisite? Not such as will laboriously penetrate into an
obscure thing, or a thing that is spoken of in an obscure manner; it is
needful only to read with sufficient application to render the ideas
familiar. Women may understand this system of philosophy by giving it
as much attention as they would bestow on the Princess of Cleves, in
order to understand the story and see all the beauties of the work. I
do not deny that the ideas contained in this book are less familiar to
the generality of females than those in the Princess of Cleves, but
they are not more abstruse, and I am convinced that on a second perusal
they would be perfectly understood._
_As I did not wish to establish an imaginary system that had no
foundation, I have employed true philosophical arguments, and as many
of them as were necessary to establish my opinions; but fortunately the
ideas connected with natural philosophy are in themselves beautiful,
and whilst they satisfy the understanding, give as much pleasure as if
formed only to charm the imagination._
_To such parts of my subjects as did not possess these beauties
I have given extraneous ornaments; Virgil has done this in his
Georgics, where he renders a dry subject interesting by frequent and
agreeable digressions: Ovid likewise in his Art of Love has pursued
the same plan, although the matter of his poem was far more pleasing
than any thing he could add to it: he seems to think it tiresome to
speak constantly of one subject--even of love. I have more need of
embellishments than he, yet I have used them sparingly. I have only
given such as the freedom of conversation authorised; I have only
placed them in parts that I thought required them; I have inserted most
of them in the commencement of the work to accustom the mind by degrees
to the objects I wish to present to its attention, in short, I have
derived them from my subject, or formed them as much as possible to
resemble my subject._
_I did not venture to give any opinions on the inhabitants of the
different worlds, since they must have been entirely chimerical; I
have endeavoured to express all that might reasonably be imagined,
and even the conjectures that are added are not without foundation.
Truth and fiction are in some measure blended, but always so as to be
distinguishable from each other: I do not undertake to justify such a
composition; the union of philosophy and amusement is the chief aim of
this work, but I know not whether I have adopted the right method._
_It only remains for me now to address one class of persons; they are
perhaps the most difficult to satisfy, not because my reasoning is
inconclusive, but because they feel themselves privileged to disregard
the best arguments: I am speaking of scrupulous people who may imagine
religion is endangered by placing inhabitants any where but on the
earth. I respect even an excessive scrupulosity when it arises from
piety, nor would I willingly hurt the feelings of any one from whom I
differed: but by rectifying a little error of the imagination we shall
find that this objection cannot affect my system of giving inhabitants
to an infinite number of worlds. When you are told that the moon is
peopled, you immediately figure to yourself men like ourselves, and
then a variety of theological difficulties occur. The posterity of
Adam cannot have colonized the moon; therefore the inhabitants of that
planet are not descendants of our first parents; now it would be a
difficult point in theology to account for the existence of men who had
any other ancestor. No more need be said; every imaginable difficulty
is included in this, and the expressions that would be necessary for a
more full explanation are too worthy of reverence to be employed in a
work containing so little of the serious as this. The objection then
turns on the existence of men in the moon, but it is the objectors
themselves who talk of men as its inhabitants; I have asserted no such
thing: I say there are inhabitants, and I likewise say they may not at
all resemble us. What are they then?--I have never seen them; I do not
speak from acquaintance with them._
_Do not consider it a subterfuge, to rid myself of the objection,
when I affirm that the moon is not peopled by men; you will see that
according to the idea I entertain of the endless diversity of the works
of nature, it is impossible such beings as we, should be placed there.
This opinion is supported throughout the book, and it is an opinion
which no philosopher can deny: I think, therefore, on this ground, the
following conversations will be objected to only by those who have
never read them. But will this consideration suffice to deliver me
from the fear of censure? No; it rather gives me cause to apprehend
objections from every side._
_FONTENELLE._
CONVERSATIONS
ON THE
_PLURALITY OF WORLDS_.
TO MR. L----.
You desire me, dear Sir, to give you a particular account of the manner
in which my time has been spent whilst at the Marchioness of G--'s[3]
in the country. To obey your injunctions strictly, I shall be obliged
to fill a volume, and what is still more formidable, a volume of
philosophy.
[Footnote 3: The lady here mentioned was Madame de la Mesangire of
Rouen. She was a beautiful brunette; but in compliance with her desire
to be concealed, the author has spoken of her in the following pages,
as having a fair complexion. The park belonging to her residence, is
described in the "First Evening."]
You expect to be entertained with a history of splendid feasts,
hunting, and card-parties; and you will hear of nothing, but planets,
worlds, and vortexes:[4] for the discussion of these latter subjects,
formed our principal amusement. Fortunately _you_ are a philosopher,
therefore I have the less reason to dread raillery from such a quarter;
on the reverse, I may even hope for your congratulations, on having
rendered the Marchioness sensible to the charms of philosophy: we could
not have made a more valuable acquisition; for youth and beauty, in
every cause holds such power, that if wisdom herself were desirous of
being welcomed by mortals, and would assume the form of this lovely
woman, surely with such an exterior, and such fascinating eloquence,
she could not fail to attract every heart.
[Footnote 4: The Vortexes of Descartes, occupied the attention of the
learned, for nearly a century; but this hypothesis was superceded by
a discovery of the laws of attraction. Although Newton's famous book
on principles was published in 1687, Fontenelle always retained his
educational prejudice in favour of the Vortexes. A few years before his
death, he consulted me on a little work he had some time since composed
on the subject. I endeavoured to dissuade him from making it public;
but Falconet was afterwards weak enough to do so. The book is entitled
"Theory of the Cartesian Vortexes, with Reflections on Attraction." The
author's name was never affixed to the work.]
Notwithstanding all this, you must not expect to be transported with
admiration, whilst I repeat the conversations I have held with her
ladyship: my genius should be equal with her's, to relate what she
said, in her own delightful manner. Conscious of inability, I must
relinquish the attempt, and leave you to discern through the recital,
that rapidity of apprehension, which characterizes the mind of the
Marchioness. From the wonderful quickness with which she comprehends
the most abstruse subjects, I consider her already learned: at least,
I may be allowed to say, that after a little study, she might attain
the heights of science; when many, who spend their lives amid the dull
disputes of vast libraries, remain for ever in the deepest ignorance.
Before I recount our various conversations, perhaps you may expect some
description of their scene; some picture of the romantic country, under
whose shades the Marchioness is enjoying the autumn. If so, you will be
disappointed: so many people have exercised their talents on this gay
species of writing, that I shall dispense with the ceremony, and merely
say, that on my arrival I had the pleasure of finding myself the only
visitor.
The two first days were passed in relating the news of Paris, which
I had just quitted. When that subject was exhausted, an evening walk
in the park, suggested the discussion of those learned topics, the
commencement of which you will find in the next page.
_FIRST EVENING._[5]
[Footnote 5: This first book has been translated into a variety of
languages; it is the best eclogue that has been composed in the last
fifty years: the descriptions and imagery it contains are perfectly
suited to the style of pastoral poetry; indeed many of the images would
not have disgraced the pen of a Virgil.
_Dubos. Reflections on Poetry and Painting._
]
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THE EARTH IS A PLANET WHICH TURNS ON ITS AXIS, AND GOES ROUND THE SUN.
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After supper we went to take a walk in the park. We felt the fragrant
breeze of evening peculiarly delightful, as the heat had been intense
during the day: the silvery rays of the moon, gleaming through the
foliage, formed an agreeable contrast with the darkened shadows of
the landscape. Not a cloud intercepted or veiled the smallest star.
Every orb appeared a mass of pure gold, rendered more brilliant by
the rich blue of the sky. The beauty of the scenery produced a gentle
reverie, from which, had not the Marchioness been with me, I should
not have been easily roused; but in the company of so interesting a
woman I could not long abandon myself to the influence of the moon
and stars. Do you not think, said I, addressing myself to her, that
the charms of a fine night greatly exceed those of the day? Yes, she
replied, the splendour of day resembles a fair and dazzling beauty,
but the milder radiance of night may be compared to a woman of less
brilliancy of complexion, and more sweetness of expression. You are
very generous, resumed I, in giving the preference to the brunette,
whilst you are so fair. It is however true, that an unclouded sun
is the most glorious object in nature; and it is equally true, that
the heroines of romance, the most beautiful objects imagination can
depict, have almost invariably been represented with fair complexions.
Beauty, answered my companion, is nothing, unless it interests our
feelings. You will not deny that the finest day never had the power of
inspiring so delightful a reverie as you were falling into just now in
contemplating the loveliness of the evening. You are right, said I, but
the loveliest night I ever beheld, with all it's shadowy beauty, would
fail to give me such enchanting sensations as the contemplation of the
fair face of the Marchioness de G----. I should not be satisfied with
your compliment, she replied, did I even believe you sincere, since the
brightness of day, with which we have been comparing fair women, has
so little influence on your heart. Why do lovers, who undoubtedly can
judge of what is most touching, address all their poetic effusions to
the night? To the ear of day they neither confide their transports nor
their sorrows--why is it so entirely excluded from their confidence?
Probably, I answered, because it is not calculated to inspire that
delicious sentiment, at once impassioned and melancholy, which we feel
in the stillness of night, whilst all nature seems to repose. The stars
appear to move with more silent progress than the sun: every object
that decorates the heavens is soft, and attractive to the eye: in
short, we resign ourselves more easily to reverie because we feel as
if no other being was at that time enjoying the pensive pleasure that
expands our soul. Perhaps, too, the uniformity of day, in which the sky
presents no other object than the sun, is less favourable to the wild
and pleasing illusions of fancy than the view of innumerable stars,
scattered with sportive irregularity, over the boundless space. I have
always felt what you describe, said she, I love to see the stars, and
am almost inclined to reproach the sun for hiding them. Ah! cried I, I
cannot forgive him for concealing so many worlds from my sight! Worlds!
she exclaimed, turning to me with surprise, what do you mean? Forgive
me, said I, you touched the wildest chord of my imagination--I forget
myself in a romantic idea. And what is this romantic idea? enquired
the Marchioness. Ah! replied I, I am half ashamed of owning it:--I
have taken it in my head that every star may be a world. I would not
positively assert the truth of my opinion, but I believe it because it
affords me pleasure; it has possessed my mind with irresistible force;
and I consider pleasure a needful accessary to truth. Well, said she,
since your whim is such a pleasant one, make me a partaker of it; I'll
believe any thing you chuse about the stars, provided it contributes
to my happiness. Ah! madam, I replied, 'tis not such an enjoyment as
you would find in seeing one of Molière's comedies: it is an idea which
can only give delight to the understanding. What! exclaimed she, do you
think I am not susceptible of pleasures which depend only on reason? I
will convince you of your mistake. Teach me your system. No, answered
I, I will not subject myself to the reproach of having talked of
philosophy, in such an enchanting walk as this, to the most interesting
woman of my acquaintance. No, seek for pedants elsewhere.
For a long while I attempted, in vain, to excuse myself; I was at last
obliged to yield: I insisted, however, for my reputation's sake, on a
promise of secrecy. Every objection being removed, I wished to begin
the subject, but found the commencement extremely difficult; for, with
a person who was ignorant of natural philosophy, it was necessary to
converse in a very circuitous manner, to prove that the earth was a
planet, the other planets similar to the earth, and all the stars so
many suns which enlightened a number of worlds. I once more assured her
it would be much better to talk on such trifles as other people, in our
situation, would amuse themselves with. In the end, however, to give
her a general idea of philosophy, I pursued the following plan.
All philosophy, said I, is founded on two things; an inquisitive mind,
and defective sight; for if your eyes could discern every thing to
perfection you would easily perceive whether each star is a sun, giving
light to a number of worlds; on the other hand, had you less curiosity,
you would hardly take the trouble to inform yourself about the matter,
and consequently remain in equal ignorance; but the difficulty consists
in our wanting to become acquainted with more than we see: besides, it
is out of our power to understand much of what is even within the reach
of our sight, because objects appear to us very different from what
they are. Thus philosophers pass their lives in disbelieving what they
see, and endeavouring to conjecture what is concealed from them; such a
state of mind is not very enviable.
In thinking on this subject, nature always appears to me in the same
point of view as theatrical representations. In the situation you
occupy at the opera you do not see the whole of its arrangements:
the machinery and decorations are so disposed as to produce an
agreeable effect at a distance, and at the same time the weights and
wheels are hidden by which every motion is effected. You behold all
that is passing, without concerning yourself about the causes; and
so perhaps do all the other spectators, unless among the number some
obscure student of mechanics is puzzling himself to account for an
extraordinary motion which he cannot understand. You see the case of
this mechanical genius resembles that of the philosopher studying the
structure of the universe. What, however, augments the difficulty
with respect to philosophers is, that nature so conceals from us the
means by which her scenery is produced, that for a long time we were
unable to discover the causes of her most simple movements. Figure
yourself, as spectators of an opera, the Pythagorases, the Platos,
the Aristotles; all these men whose names are so celebrated. Let us
suppose them viewing the flight of Phæton, rising on the wind; ignorant
at the same time of the construction of the theatre, and the cords
by which the figure is put in motion. One to explain the phenomenon,
says, _it is some hidden virtue in Phæton which causes him to rise_;
another replies, _Phæton is composed of certain numbers which produce
his elevation_. A third says, _Phæton has a love for the top of
the stage; he is uneasy at any other part_. The fourth thinks, _it
is not essential to the nature of Phæton to rise in the air, but he
prefers flying up to leaving a vacuum at the top of the stage_. Such
were the ridiculous notions of the ancient philosophers, which to my
astonishment have not ruined the reputation of antiquity. After all
Descartes and some other moderns appear: they tell you that _Phæton
rises in consequence of being drawn by cords, fastened to a descending
weight, which is heavier than himself_. It is no longer believed that
a body can have motion, unless acted upon by another body; that it
can rise and descend without a counterbalancing weight; thus, whoever
examines the mechanism of nature is only going behind the scenes of
a theatre. If that be the case, answered the Marchioness, philosophy
is a very mechanical affair! So much so, I replied, that I am afraid
it will fall into disrepute. In short, the universe is but a watch on
a larger scale; all its motions depending on determined laws and the
mutual relation of its parts. Confess the truth, have you not hitherto
entertained a more exalted idea of the works of nature? Have you not
considered them with more veneration than they deserve? I have known
some people esteem them less as their knowledge encreased. For my part,
said she, I contemplate the universe with more awful delight now I
find that such wonderful order is produced by principles so simple.
I know not, rejoined I, how you have acquired such rational ideas,
for, to say the truth, they are not very common. The generality are
affected only by the obscure and marvellous. They admire nature merely
because they consider it a sort of magic; something too occult for the
understanding to reach: to them a thing appears contemptible as soon as
they find the possibility of explaining its nature: but you, madam, can
reason so clearly, that I have only to draw aside the veil, and present
the world to your inspection.
What we behold at the greatest distance from our earth is the azure
heaven, that immense arch to which the stars seem firmly to adhere.
They are called fixed, because they appear to have no other motion than
that of their sky, carrying them from east to west. Between the earth
and the remote firmament are suspended, at various distances, the sun,
moon, and the other five stars, denominated planets; Mercury, Venus,
Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.[6] These planets not being stationary at one
point in the heavens, but having unequal motions, vary with respect
to their relative situations; the fixed stars, on the contrary, always
bear the same local relation to each other. The chariot, for instance,
that you may distinguish, formed of those seven stars, has always had
that configuration, and is likely to retain it; but the moon sometimes
approaches nearer to the sun; sometimes retreats farther from it; the
same is observed of the other planets. Such were the observations made
by the Chaldean shepherds whose continual leisure enabled them to give
so much attention to the heavenly bodies as to form the rudiments of
astronomy, for we learn that that science took its rise in Chaldea,[7]
as Geometry was first studied in Egypt, where the inundations of the
Nile destroyed the boundaries of different possessions, made the
inhabitants desirous of exact measures by which they could again
separate their own lands from those of their neighbours. Thus astronomy
is the offspring of idleness, geometry of interest; and if we enquire
into the origin of poetry, we shall probably find that she is the
daughter of love.
[Footnote 6: In 1781, M. Herschel discovered a sixth. Astronomy by
Lalande, third edition, 1792, Vol. 1, Art. 116.]
[Footnote 7: Perhaps in Ethiopia. Astronomy, Art. 260.]
I am glad, said the Marchioness, you have given me this genealogy of
the sciences; astronomy is the only one that will suit me: geometry,
according to your account of it, requires a more selfish heart than
mine; and I have not susceptibility enough to attempt poetry with
success; I have, however, as much leisure as can be needful for the
study of astronomy; it is another favourable circumstance that we are
in the country, leading a pastoral life. Do not mistake madam, answered
I, talking of planets and fixed stars is not all that constitutes a
pastoral life. Was the conversation of the shepherds, in the golden
age, confined to astronomy? Ah, said she, but it would be dangerous to
conform one's mode of life to their's. No, that of the other shepherds
you mention appears preferable to me; therefore let us converse, if you
please, in the Chaldean style. After this disposition of the stars was
remarked, what followed? The next thing, I replied, was to imagine the
arrangement of the different parts of the universe; that is what the
learned call making a system. But before I explain to you the first
of these systems, give me leave to premise that we are all naturally
disposed to the same sort of madness as a certain Athenian of whom you
have heard, who had taken it in his head that every vessel which went
into the port of Pyreum belonged to him. We chuse to believe that every
thing in creation is destined to our service; and when we enquire of
some philosophers the use of such a prodigious number of fixed stars,
of which a smaller proportion would have been sufficient for all the
offices they appear to perform; they coolly answer, they were made to
gratify our sight. On this selfish principle it was for a long time
supposed that the earth was motionless in the midst of the universe,
whilst all the heavenly bodies were created for the sole purpose of
journeying round, and distributing their light to her. Next to the
earth they placed the moon, after the moon, Mercury, then Venus, the
Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn; beyond all these the firmament of fixed
stars. It was imagined that the earth was stationed exactly in the
middle of the circles described by these planets which extended in
proportion to their distance from the earth, and that consequently
the most remote planets required a longer time to perform their
revolutions, which certainly is true. But, interrupted the Marchioness,
I can't see why you should disapprove such an arrangement of the
universe, it appears to me sufficiently commodious and intelligible, I
really feel quite satisfied with it. I have taken pains, answered I,
to represent this system in the most favourable point of view; if I
were to explain it exactly as it was conceived by Ptolemy the author of
it, and his disciples, you would be quite shocked. As the motions of
the planets are irregular, being sometimes quicker, sometimes slower;
going sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another; now nearer to
the earth, then at a greater distance from it; the ancients figured
to themselves an endless number of circles intersecting each other, by
which they endeavoured to understand the great variety of movements.
The confusion, however, caused by such an infinity of circles was so
perplexing that, at the time no better system was known, one of the
kings of Castile,[8] a profound mathematician, was daring enough to
say, that if the supreme Being had consulted him when he created the
world, he would have given him some good advice. We are filled with
horror at the impiety of this expression, but it serves to shew us how
absurd must have been the hypothesis which could prompt it. The advice
this man wished to have given, undoubtedly regarded the suppression
of so many circles, which did but prevent the planetary motions from
being understood. Probably he would likewise have expunged from the
system two or three superfluous firmaments, supposed to be above the
fixed stars. The philosophers, to explain some particular motion of
the heavenly bodies, placed, beyond the heaven that bounds our view,
a sky of crystal, which communicated this motion to the lower sky.
Was a new movement discovered? they had nothing to do but to form
a second crystal firmament. In short skies of crystal were made
without any trouble. Why did they always chuse crystal? enquired the
Marchioness; would nothing else have answered the purpose as well? No,
answered I, it was necessary to have a substance, at once transparent
and solid, for it was Aristotle's opinion that solidity was essential
to the dignity of their nature, and as this was believed by a great
man, nobody thought of doubting it. But since that time comets have
been seen which, being higher than was formerly imagined, must have
broken all the crystal of these skies, in passing through them, and by
that mean, thrown the universe into confusion; it was therefore found
necessary to change the matter of which these firmaments were composed,
into a fluid, such as air.
[Footnote 8: Alphonsus, king of Castile died in 1284.]
It is now discovered with certainty, by the researches of later ages,
that Venus and Mercury turn round the Sun, and not round the earth,
on this subject the ancient system is absolutely exploded. I will
now acquaint you with another which provides for every difficulty,
one that does not require any amendments of the king of Castile,
for its simplicity is so charming that one cannot refuse to believe
it. Yours, interrupted the Marchioness, seems a sort of bargaining
philosophy; whoever offers a system that is effected at the least
expense, has the preference. 'Tis true, said I; we have no other
chance of understanding the plan by which the operations of nature
are carried on. Nature is a wonderful economist; if a work is to be
effected, and two ways are practicable, we may be sure she will adopt
that which costs her the least, however trifling the difference.
This economy is notwithstanding in every respect consistent with
the surprising magnificence which appears in all her productions.
Magnificence is employed in the design, and frugality in the execution
of it. Nothing should excite our admiration so much as a stupendous
project effected by simple means: but we are apt to cherish ideas
of a very different kind. We place the frugality in the designs of
nature, and her grandeur in the execution. We imagine her forming a
contracted plan, and executing it with ten times the labour that is
requisite: what can be so ridiculous? I hope, she replied, that the
system you are going to explain will strictly imitate nature; the
simplicity you so admire will spare me a great deal of trouble in
comprehending your instructions. Your hope will be realized, said I,
we have now no useless incumbrances. At the appearance of a certain
German named Copernicus,[9] astronomy became simplified; he destroyed
all the unnecessary circles, and crushed to pieces the crystalline
firmaments.[10] Animated with philosophic enthusiasm, he dislodged the
earth from the central situation which had been assigned it, and in its
room placed the sun, who was more worthy of such a mark of distinction.
The planets were no longer supposed to perform their revolutions round
the earth, and enclose it in the centre of their orbits. If they afford
us light it is as it were by chance, and in consequence of passing
us in their course. They all turn around the sun; the earth itself
not excepted; and as a punishment for the indolent repose it had been
thought to enjoy, Copernicus made it take an ample share of the general
activity: in short of all these celestial attendants, appointed for the
service of our little globe, the moon alone is left to move round it.
Stop a moment, said the Marchioness, your imagination is so elevated
with your subject, you have explained it in such pompous language,
that I believe I have scarcely understood you. The sun, you say, is
immoveable in the centre of the universe; which of the planets is
next in succession? 'Tis Mercury, I replied. Mercury goes regularly
round the Sun in nearly a circular orbit, of which that luminary is
the central point. Next to Mercury is Venus, which turns in the same
manner round the Sun. Afterwards comes the Earth, and being higher
than Mercury and Venus, describes a larger circle round the Sun than
either of those planets. Then follow Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, in the
order I have named them; thus you see the circle of Saturn must be the
most extensive of all; it likewise requires a longer time than the
other planets to perform its revolution. But, exclaimed she, you have
forgotten the moon. I shall recollect it presently, said I; the moon
never abandons the earth, but is constantly going round it; but as the
earth is continually moving onwards in a circle round the sun, the
moon at once follows its motion, and revolves round it; this attendant
planet, therefore only goes round the sun in consequence of invariably
continuing near to the earth.
[Footnote 9: He was born in 1472, at Thorn, in Prussia Royal: he died
in 1543.]
[Footnote 10: Several of the ancients were of opinion that we should
admit the motion of the earth. Astron. Art. 1075.]
I understand you, said she, and I love the moon for remaining attached
to us when we were forsaken by all the other planets. Confess that
if your German could have alienated that too, he would have done it
without regret; for one may see, in every part of his hypothesis, that
he was but little inclined to favour the earth. He did well, I replied,
to humble the vanity of men who chuse to claim the best situation in
the universe; 'tis with pleasure I consider the world mixing in the
crowd of planets. Pshaw! cried the Marchioness; do you think vanity
can have any thing to do with a system of astronomy? Do you suppose I
feel humbler for knowing that the earth goes round the sun? I assure
you I esteem myself just as highly as I did before. Certainly, madam,
I answered, men would be less concerned about the rank they held in
the universe than that they enjoyed amongst their associates; neither
would the disputes of two planets, for precedence, be so important
in their judgement as those of two ambassadors. Nevertheless, the
same disposition which induces a man of the world to aspire after the
most honourable place in a room, will make a philosopher desirous of
placing the globe on which he lives in the most distinguished situation
in the universe. He likes to consider every thing made for his use;
he encourages, without being aware of his vanity, so flattering an
opinion, and his heart becomes deeply engaged about an affair of
mere speculation. Upon my word, she exclaimed, you are calumniating
human nature--how happened it that the opinions of Copernicus were
received, since they are so very humiliating? Copernicus, answered I,
was himself very doubtful of the reception they would meet with: it
was a long while before he could resolve to publish his system; at
last, however, he yielded to the entreaty of several distinguished
characters; but what do you think was the consequence?--on the day they
took him the first printed copy of his book, he died: so he made use
of the shortest way to escape from all the contradictions he had been
anticipating.