I see, plainly enough, the inhabitants of the earth; then you enable
me to discover, with somewhat less clearness, those of the moon and
other planets contained in our vortex. After all that you require me
to view the people that dwell in planets belonging to other vortices.
I must confess they are so much in the back ground that with all my
efforts they are scarcely perceptible to me. In short do they not seem
almost annihilated by the very expression you are obliged to make use
of in describing them? You must call them the inhabitants of one of the
planets, contained in one, out of the infinity of vortices. Surely the
very idea of ourselves is as nothing when such a description is applied
to us, when we are thus lost amongst millions of worlds. For my part,
the earth begins to diminish into such a speck, that in future I shall
hardly consider any object worthy of eager pursuit. Surely people, who
form unnumbered schemes of aggrandizement, who are wearing themselves
out in following up projects of ambition, are ignorant of the vortices.
I think my augmentation of knowledge will encrease my idleness, and
when I am reproached for being indolent I shall reply, _Ah! if you
knew the history of the fixed stars!_ Alexander could not have been
acquainted with it, answered I; for a certain author, who believes that
the moon is inhabited, tells us very seriously that it was impossible
for Aristotle to avoid receiving so rational an opinion, (could
Aristotle be ignorant of any truth?) but that he never disclosed it for
fear of displeasing Alexander, who would have been miserable to hear
of a world that he could not subjugate. There would have been a still
greater reason for keeping the vortices of the fixed stars a secret;
if any body in those days had known them, they would not have thought
of ingratiating themselves with the monarch by talking of them. It is
unfortunate that I who am acquainted with the system should not be
able to reap any benefit from it. According to your reasoning it will
only be an antidote to the disquietudes of ambition; that is not my
malady. The weakness I am most addicted to is an excessive admiration
of beauty, and I fear the vortices will have no power to assist me in
overcoming it. The immense number of worlds destroys the grandeur of
this, but it does not lessen the charms of a fine pair of eyes or a
beautiful mouth, _they_ retain their power in spite of all the worlds
that can be created.
Love is a strange thing, said she, laughing; it escapes every
corrective; there is no system that can abate its influence. But answer
me seriously; have you sufficient reason for believing this system? To
me it appears to rest on an uncertain foundation. A fixed star is of a
luminous nature like the sun, therefore you say it must, like the sun,
be a centre to a vortex containing planets which travel round the sun.
Now, is that a necessary consequence?
Listen, madam, I replied; we are so naturally disposed to mingle the
follies of gallantry with our gravest discussions, that mathematical
reasoning partakes of the nature of love. Grant ever so little to a
lover, and presently you are forced to grant him a great deal more,
and so on till you don't know how to stop. In like manner admit any
principle a mathematician proposes, he then draws a consequence which
you are obliged to admit, and from that consequence another, and thus
before you are aware he carries you so far that on a sudden you wonder
where you have got to: these two characters always take more than you
mean to give them. You must own that when two things are similar in all
that I know of them, I may reasonably think them similar in what I am
unacquainted with in respect to them. From that principle I draw the
conclusion of the moon being inhabited because she resembled the earth;
and the other planets, because they resemble the moon. And because the
fixed stars bear a resemblance to our sun, I attribute to them all that
he possesses. You have already made too many concessions to draw back,
you must go on; do it therefore with a good grace. But, said she, in
admitting this resemblance between the fixed stars and our sun, we must
suppose that the inhabitants of another great vortex see it as a little
fixed star, visible only during their nights.
That is indisputable, I replied. Our sun is so near to us in comparison
of the suns belonging to other vortices that his light must be
incomparably stronger to us than to them. When he is risen we can
discern no other heavenly body: so, in another vortex, another sun
eclipses ours, and permits it to appear only at night, with all the
other suns, then visible. With them, fixed to the blue firmament, our
sun forms a part of some imaginary figure. As to the planets that go
round him, as they are not seen at so great a distance, they are not
so much as thought of. Thus all the suns are daily luminaries to their
own vortex, and nightly ones to all the other vortices. Each reigns
alone in his own system; elsewhere, is but one of a great number.
Nevertheless, do not these worlds differ from each other in a thousand
instances, notwithstanding this equality? for a general resemblance
does not exclude a vast number of dissimilarities.
Surely, answered I: but the difficulty is to find them out. For ought
we know one vortex may have more planets revolving round its sun,
another fewer. In one there are subaltern planets, turning round
the principal planets; in another they may be all alike. Here they
all collect round their sun in a circle, beyond which is an empty
space which extends to the neighbouring vortices; in other parts of
the universe they may have their orbits at the extremities of their
vortex whilst the centre is left empty. And very likely there are some
vortices without any planets; others, whose suns, not being in the
centre, have a circular revolution, carrying their planets along with
them; others, again, whose planets may rise and set with regard to
their sun according to the change of that equilibrium which keeps them
suspended--What would you have more? Surely here is enough for a person
who has never been beyond one vortex.
All that is nothing, she replied, for the number of worlds. What you
have been imagining would suffice but for five or six, instead of
millions.
If you talk of millions now, said I, how will you count them when I
tell you there are many more fixed stars than you discover; that with
telescopes an endless number are seen which are invisible to the naked
eye; and that in a single constellation, where we might before have
counted a dozen or fifteen, there have been found as many as we were
accustomed to observe throughout the heavens?[51]
[Footnote 51: I conclude, from a pretty accurate calculation, that we
may perceive a hundred millions with a telescope that has an opening of
four feet; I have clearly distinguished fifty thousand, and my glass is
but two inches and a half in diameter.]
Have pity on me, cried she; I yield; you have overwhelmed me with
worlds and vortices. Ah! said I, but I must add something more still;
you see that white part of the sky, called the milky-way. Can you guess
what it is?--An infinity of little stars, invisible to our eyes on
account of their smallness, and placed so close to each other that they
seem but a stream of light. I wish I had a telescope here to shew you
this cluster of worlds. In some measure, they resemble the Maldivia
Isles, those twelve thousand little islands or banks of sand, separated
only by narrow canals of the sea which one might almost leap over.
The little vortices of the milky-way must be so close, that from one
world to another the people might converse or shake hands. The birds,
at least, I think, can go from one world to another; and pigeons may
be taught to carry letters as they do in our Levant from one town to
another. These little worlds must deviate from the general rule by
which the sun of any vortex effaces, at its rising, all the other suns.
In one of the little vortices contained in the milky-way the sun of
that particular vortex can hardly appear closer to its planets, or more
brilliant, than a hundred thousand other suns, in the neighbouring
vortices. The sky, then, is filled with a countless quantity of fires
almost close to each other. When they lose sight of their own sun, they
have thousands still remaining; and the night is not less enlightened
than the day; at least the difference is so trifling that we may say
there is no night. The inhabitants of those worlds, accustomed as they
are to perpetual light, would be very much astonished to hear of
miserable creatures who spend half their time in profound darkness;
and who, even during the light of day, see but one sun. They would
think we had fallen under the displeasure of nature, and shudder at our
condition.
I don't ask you, said the Marchioness, whether they have any moons in
the milky-way; they could be of no use to the principal planets, since
they have no nights, and besides that, move in so small a space that
they could not be encumbered with subaltern planets. But, continued
she, by multiplying worlds so liberally, you give rise to a great
difficulty. The vortices, of which we see the suns, touch our vortex:
the vortices you say are round; can so many circles touch this single
one? I can't understand how it is.
It shews a great deal of sense, answered I, to discover this
difficulty, and even to be unable to solve it, for it is in itself well
founded, and in the way you conceive it, unanswerable; therefore there
would be but little proof of wisdom in finding an answer to what was
incapable of any. If our vortex were in the figure of a die, it would
have six flat sides, which is very far from a circle; on each of these
sides might then be placed a vortex of the same shape. If instead of
six, it had twenty, fifty, or a thousand, flat sides, an equal number
of vortices might come in contact with it, each resting against one of
these sides. You know the greater number of flat sides a body has, the
nearer it approaches in form to a circle; so that a diamond cut into a
great number of facets, if they were extremely small, would be nearly
as round as a pearl of the same size. The vortices are only circular in
this manner. They have an amazing number of flat sides, each of which
is close to another vortex. These sides are very unequal; some larger,
some smaller. The smallest correspond to those of the milky-way. If
two vortices leave any space between, which must often be the case,
nature, to make the most of the extent, fills up the vacancy by one or
two, or perhaps a thousand, little vortices, which without incommoding
any of the others, form one, two, or a thousand more systems of worlds;
so there may be many more worlds than our vortex has sides; and I dare
say, though these little vortices are formed merely to fill up spare
corners of the universe that would otherwise have been useless; though
they may be overlooked by the neighbouring vortices, yet they are
quite satisfied with themselves. It is probably such little vortices
whose suns we cannot discover without telescopes, of which there is
a prodigious number. In short all these vortices are adjusted in the
best order imaginable; and as each of them must turn round its sun
without changing place, it is formed to move in the most easy and
commodious manner for that purpose. They, as it were, catch hold of
each other, like the wheels of a watch, and mutually assist the motion.
It is likewise true that in a sense they counteract one another: each
vortex if it had no external pressure would extend itself; but when
it attempts to swell it is repelled by the surrounding vortices,
which forces it to shrink back; then it extends again, and so on:[52]
some philosophers think that the fixed stars give such a sparkling,
intermittent light in consequence of this alternate expansion and
contraction of the vortices.
[Footnote 52: The preservation of the starry system is more
satisfactorily explained by attraction; they are all kept in
equilibrium by their mutual attraction.]
There is something agreeable, said the Marchioness, in the idea of
such a combat among the worlds, and the reciprocal emission of light
produced by it, which apparently is the only communication carried on
between them.
No, no, I replied, that is not the only one. The neighbouring worlds
sometimes send us visitors, who come, in a very magnificent style.
These visitors are comets,[53] ornamented with brilliant flowing hair,
a venerable beard, or a majestic train.
[Footnote 53: It is indisputably proved that the comets belong to our
solar system.]
Ah! what ambassadors? said she, laughing. We could dispense with their
company, for they only frighten us. They only frighten children,
answered I, because their appearance is extraordinary; but there are
many children among us. The comets are merely planets, belonging to
another system. Their orbit was towards the extremity of their vortex,
which was perhaps differently compressed by those that surrounded it;
the lower side, on that account was flatter than the top, and the lower
side was next to us. These planets, beginning at the upper part to form
their circle, did not foresee that it would extend beyond the limit of
their vortex, at the lower part; in order, therefore, to continue their
circular journey, they were obliged to enter the extremities of the
next vortex, which we will suppose is ours. They always appear to us
extremely elevated, moving on the other side of Saturn. Considering the
prodigious distance of the fixed stars, there must be between Saturn
and the extremities of our vortex a great space void of planets. Our
enemies reproach us with the inutility of this space, but we find there
is a use for it, as it is devoted to the service of foreign planets
that occasionally enter our system.
I understand, said she; we don't allow them to penetrate into the heart
of our vortex, and mix with our planets; we receive them as the Grand
Signior receives the ambassadors that are sent to him. He does not
honour them with a lodging in Constantinople, but assigns them one in
the environs. There is another point of resemblance, I replied, between
us and the Ottomans: they receive ambassadors without sending any in
return; and we receive the comets without sending any of our planets to
return their visits.
From all these circumstances, answered she, we seem to be very proud:
yet we should not hastily form that conclusion; these strange planets
have a very menacing air with their beards and trains; perhaps they are
only sent to insult us; ours not having so imposing an appearance would
not be so well calculated to inspire those worlds with awe. The tails
and beards, I replied, are merely extraneous: the planets themselves do
not differ from ours; but in entering our vortex they assume the beard
or train from a certain illumination derived from our sun. This, by the
bye, has not been very well explained by our astronomers; however, they
are sure it is only some sort of illumination, and they must tell us
more of it when they can. Then I wish, rejoined she, that our Saturn
would take a beard or a tail, and frighten the other vortices; then
laying aside his terrific appendages, return to us and perform his
ordinary functions. He would do better to stay where is, answered I.
You recollect I explained to you the shock produced by the repulsive
power of each vortex: I think a poor planet must be violently shaken
in such a situation, and the inhabitants cannot feel much the better
for passing through it. We think ourselves vastly unfortunate when a
comet makes its appearance, whereas we ought to consider the comet
most unfortunate. I am not inclined to pity it, said the Marchioness;
I dare say all its inhabitants arrive here in good health, and it
must be extremely entertaining to them to go into a new vortex. We
who always remain in our own have but a dull life. If the people in a
comet have the sense to know the time at which they shall pass into
our vortex, those who have already been the journey, are just before
busily employed in describing to the rest what they will see. Speaking
of Saturn, they say: "You will presently see a planet with a great ring
round it. Then, you will discover one followed by four small planets."
Some of these people, perhaps are set to watch the moment of entering
our system: when it is arrived they cry _new sun, new sun_, as our
sailors exclaim _land, land_.
I find then, said I, it is useless to attempt raising your compassion
for the comets: I hope, however, you will not refuse it to the
inhabitants of a vortex whose sun has been extinguished, and who are
thus condemned to perpetual darkness. Suns extinguished? cried she.
Yes, undoubtedly, I replied. The ancients saw certain fixed stars
which are no longer visible.[54] These suns have been deprived of their
light: ruin must have ensued throughout the vortex; a general mortality
on all the planets; for how could existence be maintained without the
sun? The thought is too dreadful, said she; is it not possible to evade
it? I'll tell you, answered I, what some very intelligent people have
imagined. They think that the fixed stars that have disappeared are
not extinct, but partly darkened; that is to say, that they have one
side obscure; the other luminous: that as they turn on themselves, they
first present the light part to us, and then the dark, when that is
the case we cease to see them. Apparently the fifth moon belonging to
Saturn is in this condition, for during one part of its revolution we
entirely lose sight of it; at which time it is not most remote from the
earth; on the contrary, it is then sometimes nearer than when visible.
Though this moon is a planet, and therefore cannot exactly guide our
opinion with respect to suns, yet we may suppose that a sun can be
partly covered by fixed spots. To spare you the pain of believing the
other opinion, we will adopt this, which is more agreeable: but I can
only receive it when applied to such fixed stars as have a regular
time for appearing and disappearing, as some have lately been observed
to do, otherwise we cannot suppose them half suns. What must we say to
the stars that disappear, and do not become visible after a time that
would certainly have been sufficient for turning on their axis? You are
too just to require me to believe that they are half suns: however I
will do all in my power to serve you; we will conclude that these stars
are not extinguished, but plunged in the unfathomable depth of the sky,
and thus become invisible; in this case the vortex would accompany its
sun, and all go on as usual. It is true that the greatest part of the
fixed stars have not any motion which removes them farther from us, for
if they were not always equally distant, they would sometimes appear
larger, sometimes smaller; but that is not the case.
[Footnote 54: In 1572 and 1604, some beautiful stars appeared to burst
into light, and afterwards become extinct. Astron. Art. 792.]
We will therefore suppose that some of the small vortices, being light
and active, slip betwixt the others, and return after they have made
their tour, whilst the larger systems remain immoveable. But there is
one inevitable misfortune: there are some fixed stars, which for a
long time are alternately visible and invisible, and at length totally
disappear. Half suns would re-appear at a regular time; others that
had retreated to an immense distance would at once disappear, and be
concealed for a very long time: exert therefore all your resolution,
madam; these stars are certainly suns which grow so dark as to be
invisible to us, then resume their brightness, and afterwards are
entirely extinguished. How, exclaimed the Marchioness, can a sun, a
source of light, become darkened? With the greatest ease, answered I,
if Descartes be in the right. He imagines that the spots on our sun,
being impurities, or vapours, may grow thick, collect together, form
themselves into a mass, and continue to encrust the sun till it is
quite hid. If, the sun is a fire connected with a solid matter, serving
as its aliment, we are not in a better condition; the solid matter may
be consumed. 'Tis said we have already had a fortunate escape: the
sun during several years, (the year, for instance, after the death
of Cæsar;) appeared very pale; owing to the encrustation which was
beginning to form. The sun had sufficient force to break and disperse
it; had it continued, we should have been lost. You make me tremble,
said the Marchioness. Now I know the consequences of paleness in the
sun, instead of going to my glass every morning to see if _I_ am pale,
I think I shall go and look whether _the sun_ is so. Take courage,
madam, I replied, it requires a good deal of time to ruin a system
of worlds. But, answered she, it seems as if time would inevitably
effect it. I cannot take upon me to deny it, said I. The immense mass
of matter which composes the universe is in continual motion, even
the smallest particles of it, and since there is this motion we are in
danger, for changes must happen, either slowly or rapidly, but always
in a time proportioned to the effect. The ancients were so vastly
wise as to imagine the heavenly bodies were of such a nature as never
to alter, because they had not observed any alteration in them. Had
they leisure to assure themselves of this by experience? Compared
with us the ancients were young: if flowers that last but a day were
to transmit their histories to each other, the first would draw the
resemblance of their gardener in a certain way; after fifteen thousand
ages of these flowers had elapsed, others would still describe him in
the same manner. They would say; "We have always had the same gardener,
the memoirs composed by our ancestors prove this to be the case; all
their representations exactly apply to him; surely he is not mortal
like us; no change will ever take place in him." Would the reasoning
of these flowers be conclusive?--it would have a better foundation
than that of the ancients respecting the celestial bodies; and had
there never to this day been observed any change in the heavens, though
they should appear likely to remain much longer without alteration,
I would not yet decide on them; I should think more experience
necessary. Should the term of our existence, which is but a moment,
be the measure for other durations? Ought we to assert that what has
lasted a hundred thousand times longer than we, must last for ever?
No, ages on ages of our duration would scarcely be any indication of
immortality. Truly, said the Marchioness, I think these worlds can
have no pretensions to it. I shall not do them the honour to compare
them with the gardener who outlives so many transient flowers; they
are but as those flowers themselves, springing up and fading away, one
after another: for I suppose, if old stars disappear, new ones become
visible; the species cannot otherwise be continued. Yes, answered I, we
need not fear the extinction of the species. Some will tell you these
new stars are only suns which re-approach us after having been for a
long time at a distant part of the heavens. Others think they are suns
that have broken through the crust that began to cover them. I easily
conceive the possibility of all this; but I think it equally possible
for new suns to be created. Why should not the matter that is fit to
compose a sun, after having been dispersed in various places, be at
length gathered together in one spot and then become the foundation of
a new system of worlds? I am the more inclined to this opinion because
it answers better to the grand idea I entertain of the works of nature.
Has she no way of producing and destroying plants and animals but by
a continual revolution? I am persuaded, and I doubt not that by this
time you are so too, that she exerts the same power with respect to the
worlds. But on such subjects we can only form conjectures. The fact is
that for nearly a century past, in which, by the help of telescopes,
almost a new heaven has been discovered, unknown to the ancients, there
have been few of the constellations in which some sensible alteration
has not taken place;[55] the greatest number of changes is observed in
the milky-way, as if more motion and bustle existed among this heap of
worlds. Really, said the Marchioness, I find the worlds, in short all
the heavenly bodies, so liable to change that I have quite overcome the
horror I felt at the idea of the suns being extinguished. Well, replied
I, to prevent you from relapsing, we will say no more about them, we
are arrived at the uppermost part of the heavens, and to inform you
whether there are any stars beyond that, exceeds my skill. You may
place more worlds or not; just as you are disposed. These invisible
countries should, in propriety, be left to the philosophers: they may
imagine them to exist, or not exist, or to exist in any way they chuse.
I shall content myself with having directed your mind to all that is
discernible by your sight.
[Footnote 55: This is not proved.]
Ah! she exclaimed, then I am acquainted with the whole system of the
universe! how learned I am! Yes, said I, you are learned enough in all
reason, and your knowledge is attended with this convenience,--you may
extract your belief of all I have told you whenever you think proper. I
only ask as a reward for my trouble, that whenever you see the sun, the
sky, and the stars, you will think on me.[56]
[Footnote 56: As I have given these conversations to the public, I
think it would not be right to conceal any thing which passed on the
subject I shall publish another dialogue of the same kind that we had
a long while after these. It shall be entitled the "Sixth Evening," as
the rest were evening scenes.]
══════════════
_SIXTH EVENING._
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ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS IN CONFIRMATION OF THOSE IN
THE PRECEDING CONVERSATIONS.--DISCOVERIES THAT
HAVE BEEN LATELY MADE IN THE HEAVENS.
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