Part II.:

A VOYAGE TO THE MOON

BY MONSIEUR

CYRANO DE BERGERAC

NEW YORK

DOUBLEDAY and McCLURE Co

M. DCCC. XCIX.

CONTENTS

Cyrano de Bergerac.

Note on the Translation.

The Translator to the Reader.

Title-page of Lovell's Translation of The

Comical History of the States and Empires

of the World of the Moon: London, 1687.

I.--Of how the Voyage was Conceived.

II.--Of how the Author set out, and where

he first arrived.

III.--Of his Conversation with the Vice-Roy

of New France; and of the system of this

Universe.

IV.--Of how at last he set out again for

the Moon, tho without his own Will.

V.--Of his Arrival there, and of the Beauty

of that Country in which he fell.

VI.--Of a Youth whom he met there, and of

their Conversation: what that country was,

and the Inhabitants of it.

VII.--Being cast out from that Country, of

the new Adventures which Befell him; and of

the Demon of Socrates.

VIII.--Of the Languages of the People in

the Moon; of the Manner of Feeding there,

and Paying the Scot; and of how the Author

was taken to Court.

IX.--Of the little Spaniard whom he met

there, and of his quaint Wit; of Vacuum,

Specific Weights, and sundry other

Philosophical Matters.

X.--Where the Author comes in doubt,

whether he be a Man, an Ape, or an

Estridge; and of the Opinion of the Lunar

Philosophers concerning Aristotle.

XI.--Of the Manner of making War in the

Moon; and of how the Moon is not the Moon,

nor the Earth the Earth.

XII.--Of a Philosophical Entertainment.

XIII.--Of the little Animals that make up

our Life, and likewise cause our Diseases;

and of the Disposition of the Towns in the

Moon.

XIV.--Of the Original of All Things; of

Atomes; and of the Operation of the Senses.

XV.--Of the Books in the Moon, and their

Fashion; of Death, Burial, and Burning;

of the Manner of telling the Time; and of

Noses,

XVI.--Of Miracles; and of Curing by the

Imagination.

XVII.--Of the Author's Return to the Earth.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

CYRANO DE BERGERAC, Frontispiece

CYRANO IN HIS STUDY

CYRANO EN ROUTE FOR THE MOON

THE "LITTLE SPANIARD'S" TRIP TO THE MOON

THE AUTHOR'S FLYING MACHINE

[Illustration: frontispiece--Cyrano de Bergerac.

La terre me fut importune

Le pris mon essort vers les Cieux.

l'y vis le soleil, et la lune.

Et maintenant J'y vois les Dieux

("All weary with the earth too soon,

I took my flight into the skies,

Beholding there the sun and moon

Where now the Gods confront my eyes.")

From a 17th Century Engraving of the original portrait

by Zacharie Heince.]

CYRANO DE BERGERAC.

Savinien Hercule de Cyrano Bergerac, swashbuckler, hero, poet, and

philosopher, came of an old and noble family, richer in titles than in

estates. His grandfather still kept most of the titles, and was called

Savinien de Cyrano Mauvières Bergerac Saint-Laurent. He was secretary

to the King in 1571, and held other important offices. Since there

was no absolute right of primo-geniture in those matters, the names,

as well as what was left of the properties they had represented, were

distributed among his descendants. Our hero seems to have received a

fair share of the titles; but of the property, nothing.

He was the fifth among seven children, and was born on the 6th of

March, 1619; not in 1620, as has been usually stated. He was born,

moreover, at Paris, not in Gascony; we must, alas, admit that he was

not a Gascon. He ought to have been one, he certainly deserved to be

one. But Fortune, who seems to have taken pleasure in always making him

just miss his destiny, began by doing him this first and greatest wrong

of not letting him be born a Gascon. The family was not even of distant

Gascon origin, but was Périgourdin; Bergerac itself is a small town

near Périgueux. Cyrano, however, did his best to repair this as well as

the other wrongs of Destiny; he acquired the Gascon accent, and often

made himself pass for a Gascon.

The fortune of his early education made him fall into the hands of a

country curate, who was an insufferable pedant (the species seems to

have been common at that time), and who had no real scholarship (the

two things are by no means contradictory). Cyrano dubbed his master an

"Aristotelic Ass," and wrote to his father that he preferred Paris.

This period of exile had one very important result, however: the

formation of his first and most lasting friendship, that with Lebret,

who shared in the instruction of the country curate, but with a more

docile acceptance of his teachings. Here again Fortune seems to have

played tricks with Cyrano, in giving him by accident for lifelong

friend one who just missed being what a real friend should be; who was

true and loyal, but who was always seeking to reform Cyrano or to push

him forward in the world; who admired him, who loved him, but who was

of such opposite nature that he understood him not at all.

Back at Paris, Cyrano was sent to the Collège de Beauvais afterward

Racine's college where he completed the course, under the principalship

of another pedant named Grangier, who was a little more scholarly,

but no less ridiculous than the first, and who figures in the leading

rôle of Cyrano's comedy _Le Pédant joué_. He lived the Paris student's

life, burning honest tradesmen's signs and "doing other crazy things,"

as his contemporary Tallemant des Réaux tells us. On leaving college

he started upon a downward track, according to Lebret; "on which,"

says the same good Lebret, "I dare to boast that I stopped him ... by

compelling him to enter the company of the Guards with me." It may be

doubted whether a temporary suspension of the paternal allowance had

nothing to do with the matter; and whether, after all, Cyrano felt so

much repugnance to entering this company of the Guards.

For this company was the famous regiment of the "garde-nobles,"

commanded by Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, a "triple Gascon" and a "triple

brave." And his men were hardly a step behind him, all of them nobles

that was an essential condition of entrance and almost all of them

Gascons. Cyrano, at first in the position rather of the Christian than

of the Cyrano of M. Rostand's play, by his gallantry and wit compelled

them to accept him, and even won among these "braves" the title of

"_démon de la bravoure_." Unable to be the most Gascon of the Gascons,

he made it up by being more Gascon than the Gascons.

Among his exploits the most famous is that of the fight with the

hundred ruffians; for this appears to be not a dramatic creation or

a legend, but history. One of his poet-friends, Linière (the name

is sometimes spelt Lignière) a writer of epigram and contributor

to the "Recueils" or "Keep-sakes" of the epoch, had wounded the

susceptibilities of a certain "grand seigneur," who planned to avenge

himself by the same method which another noble lord, in the eighteenth

century, actually used against Voltaire. He posted his hundred men at

the Porte de Nesle, to waylay Linière. Linière, hearing of it, came to

take refuge with Cyrano for the night. But Cyrano would not receive

him. "No, you shall sleep at home," said he. "Here, take this lantern"

(this is M. Brun's version), "walk behind me and hold the light, and

I'll make bed-quilts of them for you!" And the next morning there were

found scattered about the Porte de Nesle two dead men, seven wounded,

and many hats, sticks, and pikes.

According to Lebret's account, the battle took place in broad daylight,

and had several witnesses. For the rest, his story coincides with that

above. And all versions agree in saying that M. de Cuigy and M. de

Brissailles both men of the time fairly well known: one the son of an

Advocate of the Parliament of Paris, the other Mestre de Camp of the

Prince de Conti's regiment bore witness to the facts; and that the

story became generally known, and was never denied. Perhaps it will not

be well to guarantee the exactness of the number one hundred; but the

story must be for the most part true.

Another exploit, less magnificent, but perhaps as characteristic of the

wild temper of Cyrano, is his battle with Fagotin. A mountebank named

Brioché had a theatre of marionnettes, near the Pont-Neuf, and used

an ape called Fagotin, fantastically dressed, to attract spectators.

Some enemy of Cyrano, perhaps Dassoucy, one day persuaded Brioché to

dress his ape up in imitation of Cyrano, with long sword and nose as

long. Cyrano, arriving and seeing this parody of himself exalted on a

platform, unsheathes in blind rage, drives the crowd of lackeys and

loafers right and left with the flat of his sword, and impales the

poor ape who was holding out his sword in a posture of self-defence.

According to the contemporary pamphlet, partly in prose and partly in

verse, which was made upon this marvellous adventure, Brioché brought

suit for damages against Bergerac. But even in these ridiculous

circumstances Cyrano managed to get the laughers on his side; and

claiming that in the country of art there was no such thing as gold and

silver, and that he had a right to pay in the money of the country,

he promised to eternize the dead ape in Apollinic verse; and so was

acquitted.

The story of Montfleury, the fat actor whom Cyrano detested, is hardly

less fantastic; and in connection with it we have the witness of

Cyrano's own letter "Against Montfleury the Fat, bad Actor and bad

Author," the tenth of the _Satiric Letters_. According to all the books

of theatrical anecdotes, Cyrano one evening ordered him off the stage,

and forbade him to reappear for a month; and when two days later he

did reappear, Cyrano once more drove him in disgrace to the wings. The

audience protesting, Cyrano challenged them each and all to meet him

in duel, and carried his point. Whether he offered to take down their

names in order or not, does not appear.

In the meantime, more serious work turned up. The regiment of the

cadets was sent against the Germans, entered Mouzon, was besieged

there. In a sortie, Cyrano was seriously wounded, a musket-ball passing

through his body. Hardly recovered from his wound, he rejoined the army

at the siege of Arras, in 1640; unfortunately for the story, he was

probably no longer with the cadets there, but in the regiment of the

Prince de Conti. Again he was wounded, this time even more seriously,

with a sword-cut in the throat. And compelled to abandon the military

career, he returned to Paris and took up his studies and his writing.

For he had always been a student and a poet. It is probable that

the _Pédant joué_ was in part composed during his college days.

Lebret pictures him to us as studying between two duels, and working

at an Elegy in all the noise of the regimental barracks, "as

undistractedly as if he had been in a quiet study." He now joined a

group of independents in thought and life, naturalists in ethics and

empiricists in philosophy, and forced his way into a private class of

the philosopher Gassendi, where he had for fellow-students Hesnaut,

Chapelle, Bernier, and almost certainly a young Jean-Baptiste

Poquelin, who was very soon to take the name of Molière, found the

"Illustre Théâtre," and after its failure start on a fifteen years'

tour of the provinces.

Cyrano was an earnest and capable student of philosophy, and came to

it with the fresh interest not only of his own personality, but of a

young man of barely twenty-two; he naturally imposed himself as a sort

of leader in the group of young "libertins" or free-thinkers, just as

he had done among the Guards. He knew well not only Gassendi, but also

Campanella, and of course Descartes, in his works at least. He even

seems to have read widely among the half-philosophers, half-occultists

of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, such as Cornelius

Agrippa, Jerome Cardan, Abbot Tritheim, César de Nostradamus, etc.

Among the ancients, his first favorites were Lucretius and Pyrrho:

Pyrrho whom he especially admired, "because he was so nobly free, that

no thinker of his age had been able to enslave his opinions; and so

modest, that he would never give final decision on any point." There is

much of Cyrano in this phrase, both in the half-bold modesty and in the

half-timid fierceness of independence. Cyrano shuddered at the thought

of having even a single one of his ideas enslaved to those of another

thinker. Just as he had refused the Maréchal de Gassion for patron when

he was in the Guards, so he would accept no one's _magister dixit_, no

patron of his thought, not even the Aristotle of the Schools.

The period of his life from 1643 to 1653 is a very obscure one. Yet

probably almost all of his works were composed during this time. He may

have travelled; there are traditions and suggestions that he visited

England, Italy, even Poland. He probably stood in danger of persecution

from the Jesuits on account of his philosophical ideas, and may have

suffered it, as did his contemporaries Campanella and Galileo, or, to

mention a French poet only a little older than he, _Théophile de Viau_,

who was even condemned to death for less independence than Cyrano's;

though the sentence was fortunately commuted. He probably mingled

somewhat in the society of the "Précieuses" of the time as well as in

that of the "libertins"; for he has left a series of "Love-Letters"

which must almost exactly have suited the taste of those who prepared

Discourses on the Tender Passion. He probably had many duels still, for

Lebret tells us that he served a hundred times as second--the round

number is to be taken as such--and any one acquainted with the epoch,

or with the _Three Musketeers_ of Dumas, knows that the seconds fought

as well as the principals. Lebret adds, to be sure, that he never had

a quarrel on his own account, but we may perhaps take this as a bit

of the conscientious "white-washing" which Lebret could not refrain

from in speaking of his friend's reputation; for we know enough of his

character even from Lebret, and of his life from other sources, to

make a gentle peacefulness, so out of keeping with the epoch, somewhat

doubtful; and then there was his nose.

The Nose is authentic also. It appears in all the portraits, of which

there are four. And in all of these it is the same: not a little ugly

nose, flat at the top and projecting at the bottom in a little long

gable turned up at the end; but a large, generous, well-shaped nose,

hooked rather than retroussé, and planted squarely in the symmetrical

middle of the face; not ridiculous, but monumental! The anecdotes of

the duels it caused are so many, that one comes in spite of oneself

to believe some of them. It is said that this nose brought death upon

more than ten persons; that one could not look upon it, but he must

unsheathe; if one looked away, it was worse; and as for speaking of

Noses, that was a subject which Cyrano reserved for himself, to do it

fitting honor. Listen to his treatment of it in the _Pédant joué_: "This

veridic nose arrives everywhere a quarter of an hour before its master.

Ten shoemakers, good round fat ones too, go and sit down to work under

it out of the rain." As for defending large noses, as the index of

valor, intelligence, and all high qualities, it will appear in the

_Voyage to the Moon_ that he could do it as well with his pen as with

his sword.

The end of his life was difficult and sad. He was finally compelled

to accept the patronage of the Duc d'Arpajon, for no man could live

or even exist by literature at that period, except as literature

brought patronage or pensions. The great Corneille himself, than

whom no one could be more simply sturdy and high of character, wrote

begging letters to the great minister who controlled the pensions of

literature. Cyrano dedicated the edition of his "Miscellaneous Works"

in 1654 to the Duc d'Arpajon, in an epistle which fulfils, but with

dignity and independence, the laws of the _genre_, and accompanied it

with a sonnet addressed to the Duke's daughter, which is in the taste

of the time, yet considerably better than the taste of the time. Things

went well till _Agrippine_ appeared, which had a "succès de scandale";

but its "belles impiétés," as the happy book-seller called them, seem

to have pleased the timidly orthodox Duke less. In the meantime Cyrano

had received a wound from a falling beam whether by mere accident or

not, will never be known; but Cyrano had many enemies, and it has

generally been thought that there was purpose behind the accident.

For whatever reason, the Duc d'Arpajon seems to have advised Cyrano

to leave him, and Cyrano was received by Regnault des Bois-Clairs,

a friend of Lebret. There he was kindly cared for and lectured on

the evil of his past life by Lebret and three women of the Convent

of the Daughters of the Cross: Soeur Hyacinthe, an aunt of Cyrano

himself; Mère Marguerite, the superior of the convent; and the Baronne

de Neuvillette, a cousin of Cyrano, who was Madeleine Robineau, and

had married the Baron Christophe de Neuvillette, killed at the siege

of Arras in 1640. The three women persuaded themselves that they had

converted Cyrano to the true Church. This is doubtful, since he dragged

himself away to the country to die, at the house of the cousin whom he

speaks of at the end of the _Voyage to the Moon_. In any case, Mère

Marguerite reclaimed his body, and he was buried in holy ground at the

convent.

_The Voyage to the Moon_ was not published till 1656, the year after

Cyrano's death. It was certainly written as early as 1650, probably in

1649. It had been circulated widely in manuscript, and possibly a few

copies had been printed, before the author's death. _The Voyage to the

Sun_, or, to give the title more accurately, the "Comic History of the

States and Empires of the Sun," was probably written immediately after

the _Voyage to the Moon_, but was not published till 1662. The _History

of the Spark_ has never been found, unless that be the subtitle of a

part of the Voyage to the Sun, as seems fairly probable.

The _Letters_ of Cyrano are, in part at least, his earliest work.

They were probably scattered over a considerable period in point of

composition, but most of them were published in 1654. It is to be

remembered that like all the letters of that epoch which we have, they

were meant to be read in company, in the salons, or sometimes (like

that "Against Dassoucy"), in the taverns, corresponding to the modern

cafés, where men of letters gathered. They were written not for the

postman, but for the parlor; and not so much for the parlor as for the

printer. But even with the artificiality of this method, and with the

burlesque or précieuse expression that was obligatory in Letters at

that time, there are touches of real sincerity and passion constantly

breaking through.

The _Pédant joué_ is a prose-comedy in five acts, made almost entirely

on the model of the Italian "commedia dell' arte," a form in which

Molière's early work is written, and which was practically the only

form known at the time when Cyrano wrote for the play is certainly

anterior to Corneille's _Menteur_. We have the almost obligatory two

pairs of young lovers; the old father who is tyrannical but easily

deceived in this particular case combined with the pedant-doctor type;

the valet who does the deceiving, in the service of the young lovers;

and the terrible captain, who takes flight at the shadow of danger.

Cyrano has, however, introduced one new type a peasant with his dialect

and local characteristics: a type that Molière used to great advantage

later, but hardly so very much better than Cyrano uses it here;

witness the fact that a number of this peasant's phrases have become

proverbs. The famous scene of "qu'allait-il faire dans cette galère"

(despairingly repeated by the father who is compelled to give up his

cherished money for the ransom of a son held in captivity supposedly on

a Turkish galley) is exceedingly well imagined, and Molière did well

to use it, sixteen years after Cyrano's death, for the two best scenes

of his _Fourberies de Scapin_. It is not a matter to reproach Molière

with, but it is a case in which Cyrano should receive due credit.

The only serious poetical work of Cyrano is his tragedy of _Agrippine,

veuve de Germanicus_, written at some time in the forties, played in

1653, and published in 1654. The statement, repeated categorically

by Mr. Sidney Lee in his recent Life of Shakespeare, that "Cyrano

de Bergerac plagiarized 'Cymbeline,' 'Hamlet,' and 'The Merchant

of Venice' in his 'Agrippina,'" has not the slightest foundation.

There are no resemblances, either superficial or essential, on which

to base it, and it is altogether improbable that Cyrano even knew of

Shakespeare's existence. The subject of Agrippine is similar to that

of Corneille's _Cinna_--a conspiracy under the Roman Empire. There are

no resemblances to Corneille's work in the details of the plot, but

in general spirit the play is what we call Cornelian, partly because

Corneille was the only one who possessed this spirit of the epoch with

sufficient creative and individual power to compel the attention of

posterity. Cyrano, once more, just missed this. But his play is worthy

not only to be ranked with the best dramas of any of his contemporaries

except Corneille, but even to be at least compared with Corneille's

better work (except perhaps the _Cid_ and _Polyeucte_). The play is

not thoroughly well constructed, and so misses something of dramatic

effectiveness, though by no means missing it entirely; but it is as

well constructed as Corneille's _Cinna_, and better than his Horace to

take examples only among his greatest plays. It has no scene to compare

with that of the clemency of Augustus in _Cinna_, no character-study

so fine as that of the different sentiments of Augustus. But it

approaches, though it does not quite attain, the heroics of _Horace_.

It is full of exaggeration so is Corneille; and of an exaggeration that

sometimes becomes burlesque as in Corneille; but it is an exaggeration

that is high and heroic, like Corneille's. And the high and heroic

sometimes as in a line like this:

Et puis, mourir n'est rien; c'est achever de naître--

sometimes, but too rarely, drops its exaggeration to become simple as

simple as real heroism, which is the simplest thing in the world.

Except real genius. Real genius is, finally, the essential thing, which

Cyrano once more just missed attaining missed just by the lack of

that simplicity, perhaps. But exaggeration, sometimes carried to the

burlesque, is the essential trait which makes him what he is; and we

cannot wish it away.

CURTIS HIDDEN PAGE.

NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION.

There have been at least three translations into English of the _Voyage

to the Moon_: that alluded to on page 1; the present translation; and

one made in the eighteenth century by Samuel Derrick. The last is

dedicated to the Earl of Orrery, author of "Remarks on the Life and

Writings of Jonathan Swift," and attributes its "call from obscurity"

to "your Lordship's mentioning it in your _Life of Swift_" as having

served for inspiration to _Gulliver's Travels_.

Samuel Derrick's translation, however, is not so good as that of

A. Lovell. The seventeenth century translation is more flowery and

fanciful, and by that very fact closer to the original. For though the

_Voyage to the Moon_ is the most sober in style of Cyrano's works, yet

there are still many touches of the "high fantastical" in its manner

as well as in its substance. The eighteenth century translator has

toned down the style to make it more acceptable to that age of reason

and regularity. It is still another case of the irony of Fate pursuing

Cyrano; the regularity of seventeenth century literature in France,

against whom he struggled so swashbucklerly, had completely triumphed

and spread their influence over Europe; so that even in the land where

liberty and individuality are native, his work had to suffer correction

in all its most fanciful passages. There are constant omissions of

phrases or sentences in the eighteenth century translation, and

there are also numerous mistakes, as well as many points missed.

The seventeenth century translation, on the other hand, is faithful

throughout to its original, and accurate as well as vivid.

The translation has been compared throughout with the French of the

edition of 1661, and the two or three slight corrections needed have

been made in footnotes. Except for the breaking up of some very long

paragraphs, and slight changes in punctuation when necessary for

clearness, the text has been reprinted as exactly as possible. All

changes or additions, except the correction of evident misprints, have

been bracketed.

C. H. P.

A VOYAGE TO THE MOON.

THE TRANSLATOR TO THE READER.

It is now Seven and Twenty Years, since the Moon appeared first

Historically on the English Horizon[1]: And let it not seem strange,

that she should have retained Light and Brightness so long here,

without Renovation; when we find by Experience, that in the Heavens,

she never fails once a Month to Change and shift her Splendor. For

it is the Excellency of Art, to represent Nature even in her absence;

and this being a Piece done to the Life, by one that had the advantage

of the true Light, as well as the Skill of Drawing, in this kind, to

Perfection; he left so good an Original, which was so well Copied by

another Hand, that the Picture might have served for many Years more,

to have given the Lovers of the Moon, a sight of their Mistress, even

in the darkest Nights; and when she was retired to put on a clean Smock

in Phoebus his Apartment; if they had been so curious, as to have

encouraged the Exposers.

However, Reader, you have now a second View of her, and that under the

same Cover with the Sun too, which is very rare; since these two were

never seen before in Conjunction. Yet I would have none be afraid,

that their Eyes being dazzled with the glorious Light of the Sun, they

should not see her; for Fancy will supply the Weakness of the Organ,

and Imagination, by the help of this Mirrour, will not fail to discover

them both; though Cynthia lye hid under Apollo's shining Mantle. And so

much for the Luminaries.

Now as to the Worlds, which, with Analogy to ours below, I may call the

Old and New; that of the Moon having been discovered, tho imperfectly,

by others, but the Sun owing its Discovery wholly to our Author:[2]

I make no doubt, but the Ingenious Reader will find in both, so

extraordinary and surprizing Rarities, as well Natural, Moral, as

Civil; that if he be not as yet sufficiently disgusted with this lower

World, (which I am sure some are) to think of making a Voyage thither,

as our Author has done; he will at least be pleased with his Relations.

Nevertheless, since this Age produces a great many bold Wits, that

shoot even beyond the Moon, and cannot endure, (no more than our

Author) to be stinted by Magisterial Authority, and to believe nothing

but what Gray-headed Antiquity gives them leave: It's pity some soaring

Virtuoso, instead of Travelling into France, does not take a flight up

to the Sun; and by new Observations supply the defects of its History;

occasioned not by the Negligence of our Witty French Author, but by the

accursed Plagiary of some rude Hand, that in his Sickness, rifted his

Trunks, and stole his Papers, as he himself complains.[3]

Let some venturous Undertaker auspiciously attempt it then;

and if neither of the two Universities, Gresham-College, nor

Greenwich-Observatory can furnish him with an Instrument of

Conveyance; let him try his own Invention, or make use of our Author's

Machine: For our Loss is, indeed, so great, that one would think,

none but the declared Enemy of Mankind, would have had the Malice, to

purloyn and stiffle those rare Discoveries, which our Author made in

the Province of the Solar Philosophers; and which undoubtedly would

have gone far, as to the settleing our Sublunary Philosophy, which, as

well as Religion, is lamentably rent by Sects and Whimseys; and have

convinced us, perhaps, that in our present Doubts and Perplexities, a

little more, or a little less of either, would better serve our Turns,

and more content our Minds.

[1] This evidently refers to an earlier translation of the _Voyage

to the Moon_, published probably in 1660. The present editor will be

greatly obliged to any one who will put him on the track of a copy

of this, or any other early translation from Cyrano, such as the

"Satyrical Characters and handsome Descriptions, in Letters, written to

several Persons of Quality, by Monsieur De Cyrano Bergerac. Translated

from the French, by a Person of Honor. London, 1658."

[2] Among the "others" who had previously "discovered" the Moon,

Ariosto is the most prominent. In his _Orlando Furioso_, Astolfo

goes to the moon, visits the "Valley of Lost Things," finds there

many broken resolutions, idlers' days, lovers' tears, and other such

matters; and finally recovers Orlando's lost wits, which he brings back

to the earth.

The _Satire Ménippée_ (1594) gives, in its _Supplément_, "News from the

Regions of the Moon."

Quevedo, the Spanish satirist and novelist (1580-1645), with whose

works Cyrano was acquainted, also gives an account of the moon in his

Sixth Vision.

In England, the Rev. John Wilkins (1614-1672), once Principal

of Trinity College, Cambridge, and later Bishop of Chester, a

brother-in-law of Cromwell, and one of the founders of the Royal

Society, published in 1638 the "_Discovery of a New World_; or, a

Discourse to prove it is probable there may be another habitable

world in the Moon; with a discourse concerning _the possibility of a

passage thither_"; and later, in 1640, the "_Discourse_ concerning a

new Planet; tending to prove it is probable our earth is one of the

Planets." These two works are said to have done more than any others to

popularize the Copernican system in England. The _Discovery of a New

World_ was translated into French by Jean de Montagne, and published

at Rouen in 1655 or 1656. See Charles Nodier, _Mélanges extraits d'une

petite bibliothèque_.

Finally, the most important of Cyrano's predecessors in the discovery

of the moon was Francis Godwin, M.A., D.D., Bishop of Llandaff and

later of Hereford (1562-1633). It was not till 1638, after the worthy

Bishop's death, and in the same year that Rev. (later Bishop) John

Wilkins' _Discovery of a New World_ was published, that there appeared

his "_Man in the Moone_; or a Discourse of a Voyage Thither, by Domingo

Gonsales, the Speedy Messenger." This was translated into French by

Jean Baudoin or Baudouin in 1648, as "L'homme dans la lune ... voyage

... fait par Dominique Gonzales, aventurier espagnol," and was well

known to Cyrano, as we shall see.

In saying that "the sun owes its discovery wholly to our author," the

translator appears to be ignorant of a work which Cyrano certainly

knew: the _Civitas solis_ of Campanella, published in 1623 as a part of

his _Realis Philosophiæ Epilogisticæ Partes IV_.

[3] Cf. the last sentence of the _Voyage to the Moon_.

(The Title-page of Lovell's translation.)

THE COMICAL HISTORY

of the

STATES and EMPIRES

of the WORLD of the MOON.

Written in French by

CYRANO BERGERAC.

And now Englished by

A. LOVELL. A.M.

Printed for Henry Rhodes, next door to the Swan-tavern,

near Bride-lane in Fleet Street, 1687.

CHAPTER I.

_Of how the Voyage was Conceived._

I Had been with some Friends at Clamard, a House near Paris, and

magnificently Entertain'd there by Monsieur de Cuigy,[1] the Lord of

it; when upon our return home, about Nine of the Clock at Night, the

Air serene, and the Moon in the Full, the Contemplation of that bright

Luminary furnished us with such variety of Thoughts as made the way

seem shorter than, indeed, it was. Our Eyes being fixed upon that

stately Planet, every one spoke what he thought of it: One would needs

have it be a Garret Window of Heaven; another presently affirmed, That

it was the Pan whereupon _Diana_ smoothed _Apollo's_ Bands; whilst

another was of Opinion, That it might very well be the Sun himself, who

putting his Locks up under his Cap at Night, peeped through a hole to

observe what was doing in the World during his absence.

"And for my part, Gentlemen," said I, "that I may put in for a share,

and guess with the rest; not to amuse my self with those curious

Notions wherewith you tickle and spur on slow-paced Time; I believe,

that the Moon is a World like ours, to which this of ours serves

likewise for a Moon."

This was received with the general Laughter of the Company. "And

perhaps," said I, "(Gentlemen) just so they laugh now in the Moon, at

some who maintain, That this Globe, where we are, is a World." But I'd

as good have said nothing, as have alledged to them, That a great many

Learned Men had been of the same Opinion; for that only made them laugh

the faster.

However, this thought, which because of its boldness suited my Humor,

being confirmed by Contradiction, sunk so deep into my mind, that

during the rest of the way I was big with Definitions of the Moon which

I could not be delivered of: Insomuch that by striving to verifie this

Comical Fancy by Reasons of appearing weight, I had almost perswaded my

self already of the truth on't; when a Miracle, Accident, Providence,

Fortune, or what, perhaps, some may call Vision, others Fiction,

Whimsey, or (if you will) Folly, furnished me with an occasion that

engaged me into this Discourse. Being come home, I went up into my

Closet, where I found a Book open upon the Table, which I had not put

there. It was a piece of _Cardanus_[2]; and though I had no design

to read in it, yet I fell at first sight, as by force, exactly upon

a Passage of that Philosopher where he tells us, That Studying one

evening by Candle-light, he perceived Two tall old Men enter in through

the door that was shut, who after many questions that he put to them,

made him answer, That they were Inhabitants of the Moon, and thereupon

immediately disappeared.

[Illustration: CYRANO IN HIS STUDY.--From a 17th Century Engraving]

I was so surprised, not only to see a Book get thither of it self; but

also because of the nicking of the Time so patly, and of the Page at

which it lay upon, that I looked upon that Concatenation of Accidents

as a Revelation, discovering to Mortals that the Moon is a World.

"How!" said I to my self, having just now talked of a thing, can a

Book, which perhaps is the only Book in the World that treats of that

matter so particularly, fly down from the Shelf upon my Table; become

capable of Reason, in opening so exactly at the place of so strange

an adventure; force my Eyes in a manner to look upon it, and then to

suggest to my fancy the Reflexions, and to my Will the Designs which I

hatch.

"Without doubt," continued I, "the Two old Men, who appeared to that

famous Philosopher, are the very same who have taken down my Book and

opened it at that Page, to save themselves the labour of making to me

the Harangue which they made to _Cardan_."

"But," added I, "I cannot be resolved of this Doubt, unless I mount up

thither."

"And why not?" said I instantly to my self. "_Prometheus_ heretofore

went up to Heaven, and stole fire from thence. Have not I as much

Boldness as he? And why should not I, then, expect as favourable a

Success?"

[1] Monsieur de Cuigy, who is mentioned by Lebret as a friend

and admirer of Cyrano, and who was one of the witnesses of his

famous battle against the hundred ruffians, possessed an estate at

Clamart-sous-Meudon, near Paris. He appears as a character in M.

Rostand's play of _Cyrano de Bergerac_.

[2] Jerome Cardan, 1501-1576, natural philosopher, doctor, astrologer,

mathematician, and a voluminous author; in short, a sort of Italian

Paracelsus, both by his universal learning, and by his intense interest

in all domains of possible knowledge, in which he included astrology

and necromancy. His most important work is the one referred to here,

the _De Subtilitate Rerum_, 1551.

CHAPTER II.

_Of how the Author set out, and where he first arrived._

After these sudden starts of Imagination, which may be termed, perhaps,

the Ravings of a violent Feaver, I began to conceive some hopes of

succeeding in so fair a Voyage: Insomuch that to take my measures

aright, I shut my self up in a solitary Country-house; where having

flattered my fancy with some means, proportionated to my design, at

length I set out for Heaven in this manner.

I planted my self in the middle of a great many Glasses full of Dew,

tied fast about me;[1] upon which the Sun so violently darted his Rays,

that the Heat, which attracted them, as it does the thickest Clouds,

carried me up so high, that at length I found my self above the middle

Region of the Air. But seeing that Attraction hurried me up with so

much rapidity that instead of drawing near the Moon, as I intended,

she seem'd to me to be more distant than at my first setting out; I

broke several of my Vials, until I found my weight exceed the force of

the Attraction, and that I began to descend again towards the Earth.

I was not mistaken in my opinion, for some time after I fell to the

ground again; and to reckon from the hour that I set out at, it must

then have been about midnight. Nevertheless I found the Sun to be in

the Meridian, and that it was Noon. I leave it to you to judge, in what

Amazement I was; The truth is, I was so strangely surprised, that not

knowing what to think of that Miracle, I had the insolence to imagine

that in favour of my Boldness God had once more nailed the Sun to the

Firmament, to light so generous[2] an Enterprise. That which encreased

my Astonishment was, That I knew not the Country where I was; it seemed

to me, that having mounted straight up, I should have fallen down again

in the same place I parted from.

However, in the Equipage I was in, I directed my course towards a

kind of Cottage, where I perceived some smoke; and I was not above a

Pistol-shot from it, when I saw my self environed by a great number

of People, stark naked: They seemed to be exceedingly surprised at

the sight of me; for I was the first, (as I think) that they had

ever seen clad in Bottles. Nay, and to baffle all the Interpretations

that they could put upon that Equipage, they perceived that I hardly

touched the ground as I walked; for, indeed, they understood not that

upon the least agitation I gave my Body the Heat of the beams of the

Noon-Sun raised me up with my Dew; and that if I had had Vials enough

about me, it would possibly have carried me up into the Air in their

view. I had a mind to have spoken to them; but as if Fear had changed

them into Birds, immediately I lost sight of them in an adjoyning

Forest. However, I catched hold of one, whose Legs had, without doubt,

betrayed his Heart. I asked him, but with a great deal of pain, (for

I was quite choked) how far they reckoned from thence to _Paris_? How

long Men had gone naked in _France_? and why they fled from me in so

great Consternation? The Man I spoke to was an old tawny Fellow, who

presently fell at my Feet, and with lifted-up Hands joyned behind his

Head, opened his Mouth and shut his Eyes: He mumbled a long while

between his Teeth, but I could not distinguish an articulate Word; so

that I took his Language for the maffling[3] noise of a Dumb-man.

Some time after, I saw a Company of Souldiers marching, with Drums

beating; and I perceived Two detached from the rest, to come and take

speech of me. When they were come within hearing, I asked them, Where I

was? "You are in _France_" answered they: "But what Devil hath put you

into that Dress? And how comes it that we know you not? Is the Fleet

then arrived? Are you going to carry the News of it to the Governor?

And why have you divided your Brandy into so many Bottles?" To all this

I made answer, That the Devil had not put me into that Dress: That they

knew me not; because they could not know all Men: That I knew, nothing

of the _Seine's_ carrying Ships to _Paris_: That I had no news for the

_Marshal de l'Hospital_;[4] and that I was not loaded with Brandy. "Ho,

ho," said they to me, taking me by the Arm, "you are a merry Fellow

indeed; come, the Governor will make a shift to know you, no doubt

on't."

They led me to their Company, where I learnt that I was in reality in

_France_, but that it was in _New-France_: So that some time after, I

was presented before the Governor, who asked me my Country, my Name and

Quality; and after that I had satisfied him in all Points, and told

him the pleasant Success of my Voyage, whether he believed it, or only

pretended to do so, he had the goodness to order me a Chamber in his

Apartment. I was very happy, in meeting with a Man capable of lofty

Opinions, and who was not at all surprised when I told him that the

Earth must needs have turned during my Elevation; seeing that having

begun to mount about Two Leagues from _Paris_, I was fallen, as it

were, by a perpendicular Line in _Canada_.

[1] Cf. M. Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac, act III., scene xi.: "One way

was to stand naked in the sunshine, in a harness thickly studded with

glass phials, each filled with morning dew. The sun in drawing up the

dew, you see, could not have helped drawing me up too!" (Miss Gertrude

Hall' s translation.)

[2] Generous = _noble_. Cf. Lord Burleigh, _Precepts to his Son_: "Let

her not be poor, how _generous_ soever; for a man can buy nothing in

the market with gentility."

[3] Stammering, mumbling; a North of England word.

[4] Paul Lacroix, the editor of the French edition of Cyrano's

works, not understanding this phrase, has ingeniously invented the

interpretation of "quarantine officer" for it. Not only have the words

never had this meaning, but they are evidently a proper name. And in

fact _François de l'Hospital, Maréchal de France_, was Governor of

Paris in 1649, the year when the _Voyage to the Moon_ was probably

written. Cyrano, thinking he has fallen in France, near Paris, and

being asked if he carries news of the fleet to the Governor, naturally

answers that he knows nothing of ships going to Paris, and that he

carries no news to the Maréchal de l'Hospital.

CHAPTER III.

_Of his Conversation with the Vice-Roy of New France; and of the system

of this Universe._

When I was going to Bed at night, he came into my Chamber, and spoke

to me to this purpose: "I should not have come to disturb your Rest,

had I not thought that one who hath found out the secret of Travelling

so far in Twelve hours space, had likewise a charm against Lassitude.

But you know not," added he, "what a pleasant Quarrel I have just now

had with our Fathers, upon your account? They'll have you absolutely

to be a Magician; and the greatest favour you can expect from them, is

to be reckoned only an Impostor: The truth is, that Motion which you

attribute to the Earth[1] is a pretty nice Paradox; and for my part

I'll frankly tell you, That that which hinders me from being of your

Opinion, is, That though you parted yesterday from _Paris_, yet you

might have arrived today in this Country without the Earth's turning:

For the Sun having drawn you up by the means of your Bottles, ought he

not to have brought you hither; since according to _Ptolemy_, and the

Modern Philosophers,[2] he marches obliquely, as you make the Earth to

move? And besides, what great Probability have you to imagine, that the

Sun is immoveable, when we see it go? And what appearance is there,

that the Earth turns with so great Rapidity, when we feel it firm under

our Feet?"

"Sir," replied I to him, "These are, in a manner, the Reasons that

oblige us to think so: In the first place, it is consonant to common

Sense to think that the Sun is placed in the Center of the Universe;

seeing all Bodies in nature standing in need of that radical Heat, it

is fit he should reside in the heart of the Kingdom, that he may be

in a condition readily to supply the Necessities of every Part; and

that the Cause of Generations should be placed in the middle of all

Bodies, that it may act there with greater Equality and Ease: After

the same manner as Wise Nature hath placed the Seeds in the Center of

Apples, the Kernels in the middle of their Fruits; and in the same

manner as the Onion, under the cover of so many Coats that encompass

it, preserves that precious Bud from which Millions of others are to

have their being. For an Apple is in itself a little Universe; the

Seed, hotter than the other parts thereof, is its Sun, which diffuses

about it self that natural Heat which preserves its Globe: And in the

Onion, the Germ is the little Sun of that little World, which vivifies

and nourishes the vegetative Salt of that little mass. Having laid down

this, then, for a ground, I say, That the Earth standing in need of the

Light, Heat, and Influence of this great Fire, it turns round it, that

it may receive in all parts alike that Virtue which keeps it in Being.

For it would be as ridiculous to think, that that vast luminous Body

turned about a point that it has not the least need of; as to imagine,

that when we see a roasted Lark, that the Kitchin-fire must have turned

round it. Else, were it the part of the Sun to do that drudgery, it

would seem that the Physician stood in need of the Patient; that the

Strong should yield to the Weak; the Superior serve the Inferior; and

that the Ship did not sail about the Land, but the Land about the Ship.

"Now if you cannot easily conceive how so ponderous a Body can move;

Pray, tell me, are the Stars and Heavens, which, in your Opinion, are

so solid, any way lighter? Besides, it is not so difficult for us, who

are assured of the Roundness of the Earth, to infer its motion from its

Figure: But why do ye suppose the Heaven to be round, seeing you cannot

know it, and that yet, if it hath not this Figure, it is impossible it

can move? I object not to you your _Excentricks_ nor _Epicycles_,[3]

which you cannot explain but very confusedly, and which are out of

doors in my Systeme. Let's reflect only on the natural Causes of that

Motion. To make good your Hypothesis, you are forced to have recourse

to Spirits or _Intelligences_, that move and govern your Spheres. But

for my part, without disturbing the repose of the supreme Being, who,

without doubt, hath made Nature entirely perfect, and whose Wisdom

ought so to have compleated her, that being perfect in one thing, she

should not have been defective in another: I say, that the Beams and

Influences of the Sun, darting Circularly upon the Earth, make it to

turn as with a turn of the Hand we make a Globe to move; or, which is

much the same, that the Steams which continually evaporate from that

side of it which the Sun shines upon, being reverberated by the Cold

of the middle Region, rebound upon it, and striking obliquely do of

necessity make it whirle about in that manner.

"The Explication of the other Motions[4] is less perplexed still; for

pray, consider a little" At these words the Vice-Roy interrupted me: "I

had rather," said he, "you would excuse your self from that trouble;

for I have read some Books of _Gassendus_[5] on that subject: And hear

what one of our Fathers, who maintained your Opinion one day, answered

me. 'Really,' said he, 'I fancy that the Earth does move, not for the

Reasons alledged by _Copernicus_; but because Hell-fire being shut up

in the Center of the Earth, the damned, who make a great bustle to

avoid its Flames, scramble up to the Vault, as far as they can from

them, and so make the Earth to turn, as a Turn-spit[6] makes the Wheel

go round when he runs about in it.'"

We applauded that Thought, as being a pure effect of the Zeal of that

good Father: And then the Vice-Roy told me, That he much wondered,

how the Systeme of _Ptolemy_, being so improbable, should have been

so universally received. "Sir," said I to him, "most part of Men, who

judge of all things by the Senses, have suffered themselves to be

perswaded by their Eyes; and as he who Sails along a Shoar thinks the

Ship immoveable, and the Land in motion; even so Men turning with the

Earth round the Sun have thought that it was the Sun that moved about

them. To this may be added the unsupportable Pride of Mankind, who

perswade themselves that Nature hath only been made for them; as if

it were likely that the Sun, a vast Body Four hundred and thirty four

times bigger than the Earth,[7] had only been kindled to ripen their

Medlars and plumpen their Cabbage.

"For my part, I am so far from complying with their Insolence, that

I believe the Planets are Worlds about the Sun, and that the fixed

Stars are also Suns which have Planets about them, that's to say,

Worlds, which because of their smallness, and that their borrowed light

cannot reach us, are not discernable by Men in this World: For in good

earnest, how can it be imagined that such spacious Globes are no more

but vast Desarts; and that ours, because we live in it, hath been

framed for the habitation of a dozen of proud Dandyprats? How, must it

be said, because the Sun measures our Days and Years, that it hath only

been made to keep us from running our Heads against the Walls? No, no,

if that visible Deity shine upon Man, it's by accident, as the King's

Flamboy by accident lightens a Porter that walks along the Street."

"But," said he to me, "[if,] as you affirm, the fixed Stars be so

many Suns, it will follow that the World is infinite; seeing it is

probable that the People of that World which moves about that fixed

Star you take for a Sun, discover above themselves other fixed Stars,

which we cannot perceive from hence, and so others in that manner _in

infinitum_."

"Never question," replied I, "but as God could create the Soul

Immortal, He could also make the World Infinite; if so it be, that

Eternity is nothing else but an illimited Duration, and an infinite, a

boundless Extension: And then God himself would be Finite, supposing

the World not to be _infinite_; seeing he cannot be where nothing is,

and that he could not encrease the greatness of the World without

adding somewhat to his own Being, by beginning to exist where he did

not exist before. We must believe then, that as from hence we see

_Saturn_ and _Jupiter_; if we were in either of the Two, we should

discover a great many Worlds which we perceive not; and that the

Universe extends so _in infinitum_."

"I' faith;" replied he, "when you have said all you can, I cannot at

all comprehend that Infinitude." "Good now," replied I to him, "do

you comprehend the Nothing that is beyond it? Not at all. For when

you think of that _Nothing_, you imagine it at least to be like Wind

or Air, and that is a Being: But if you conceive not an _Infinite_ in

general, you comprehend it at least in particulars; seeing it is not

difficult to fancy to our selves, beyond the Earth, Air, and Fire which

we see, other Air, and other Earth, and other Fire. Now Infinitude

is nothing else but a boundless Series of all these. But if you ask

me, How these Worlds have been made, seeing Holy Scripture speaks

only of one that God made? My answer is, That I have no more to say:

For to oblige me to give a Reason for every thing that comes into my

Imagination, is to stop my Mouth, and make me confess that in things of

that nature my Reason shall always stoop to Faith."

He ingeniously[8] acknowledged to me that his Question was to be

censured, but bid me pursue my notion: So that I went on, and told

him, That all the other Worlds, which are not seen, or but imperfectly

believed, are no more but the Scum that purges out of the Suns. For how

could these great Fires subsist without some matter, that served them

for Fewel? Now as the Fire drives from it the Ashes that would stifle

it, or the Gold in a Crucible separates from the Marcasite[9] and

Dross, and is refined to the highest Standard; nay, and as our Stomack

discharges it self by vomit, of the Crudities that oppress it; even

so these Suns daily evacuate, and reject the Remains of matter that

might incommode their Fire: But when they have wholly consumed that

matter which entertains[10] them; you are not to doubt, but they spread

themselves abroad on all sides to seek for fresh Fewel, and fasten upon

the Worlds which heretofore they have made, and particularly upon those

that are nearest: Then these great Fires, reconcocting all the Bodies,

will as formerly force them out again, Pell-mell, from all parts; and

being by little and little purified, they'll begin to serve for Suns to

other little Worlds, which they procreate by driving them out of their

Spheres: And that without doubt, made the _Pythagoreans_ foretel the

universal Conflagration.

"This is no ridiculous Imagination, for _New-France_ where we

are, gives us a very convincing instance of it. The vast Continent

of _America_ is one half of the Earth, which in spight of our

Predecessors, who a Thousand times had cruised the Ocean, was not

at that time discovered: Nor, indeed, was it then in being, no more

than a great many Islands, Peninsules, and Mountains that have since

started up in our Globe, when the Sun purged out its Excrements to a

convenient distance, and of a sufficient Gravity to be attracted by the

Center of our World; either in small Particles, perhaps, or, it may

be also, altogether in one lump. That is not so unreasonable but that

_St. Austin_[11] would have applauded to it, if that Country had been

discovered in his Age. Seeing that great Man, who had a very clear Wit,

assures us, That in his time the Earth was flat like the floor of an

Oven, and that it floated upon the Water, like the half of an Orange:

But if ever I have the honour to see you in _France_, I'll make you

observe, by means of a most excellent Celescope, that some Obscurities,

which from hence appear to be Spots, are Worlds a forming."

My Eyes that shut with this Discourse, obliged the Vice-Roy to

withdraw.

[1] In connection with this discussion it is to be remembered that

nearly two centuries were required for the Copernican system,

promulgated in 1543, in the De orbium _coelestium revolutionibus_, to

become generally popularized; and that in 1633, only sixteen years

before the _Voyage to the Moon_ was written, Galileo had been compelled

by the Inquisition to deny the motion of the earth.

[2] According to the Ptolemaic system, still generally accepted by

"modern Philosophers" at the time of Cyrano's writing, the fixed stars,

the sun, the moon, and each of the five (then known) planets, revolved

about the earth in different orbits, according to various "epicycles"

and "excentrics."

[3] The motion of the moon, for instance, was explained in the

Ptolemaic system as an epicycle carried by an excentric; the centre of

the excentric moving about the earth in a direction opposite to that of

the epicycle.

[4] The French has: "of the _two_ other motions": _i.e._, the movement

of the fixed stars, and that of the planets.

[5] _Gassendus_ or _Gassendi_ was Cyrano's own teacher of Philosophy.

Of Provençal origin, and at first Professor in the University of Aix,

he came to Paris in 1641, and gave both private lessons and public

courses as Professor of the Collège Royal. It was in one of his private

classes that Cyrano was a fellow-student with Chapelle, Hesnaut,

Bernier, and almost certainly Molière; the most important group of

young "libertins" (_i.e._ free-thinkers) of the epoch.

Gassendi was a bitter opponent of the supposedly Aristotelian

school-philosophy of the time; and was on the whole the leader of

those who in the seventeenth century followed Epicurean methods in

thought. He is the author of a life of Epicurus, and an exposition

of his philosophy. He was also an opponent of Descartes, being the

most important contemporary supporter of empiricism as against the

essentially idealistic method of Descartes.

He is important also as a popularizer of the Copernican system, by his

Life of Copernicus, and his _Institutio Astronomica_ (1647).

[6] A dog trained to turn a spit, by running about in a rotary cage

attached to it. The French has simply: "as a _dog_ makes a wheel turn,

when he runs about in it."

[7] Cyrano had probably learned this from his master Gassendi. _Cf_.

his "Epistola XX. de apparente magnitudine solis," 1641. Modern

Gassendis say the sun is 1,300,000 times greater than the earth in

volume, 316,000 times in mass.

[8] _Ingenuously_. The two words were interchangeable in the

seventeenth century.

[9] Iron pyrites.

[10] _Supports, feeds_; cf. Shakspere, _Richard III_.

"I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,

And entertain a score or two of tailors."

[11] St. Augustine.

CHAPTER IV.

_Of how at last he set out again for the Moon, tho without his own

Will._

Next Day, and the Days following, we had some Discourses to the same

purpose: But some time after, since the hurry of Affairs suspended our

Philosophy, I fell afresh upon the design of mounting up to the Moon.

So soon as she was up, I walked about musing in the Woods, how I might

manage and succeed in my Enterprise; and at length on St. John's[1]

Eve, when they were at Council in the Fort, whether they should assist

the Wild Natives of the Country against the _Iroqueans_; I went all

alone to the top of a little Hill at the back of our Habitation, where

I put in Practice what you shall hear. I had made a Machine which I

fancied might carry me up as high as I pleased, so that nothing seeming

to be wanting to it, I placed my self within, and from the Top of a

Rock threw my self in the Air: But because I had not taken my measures

aright, I fell with a sosh in the Valley below.

Bruised as I was, however, I returned to my Chamber without loosing

courage, and with Beef-Marrow I anointed my Body, for I was all over

mortified from Head to Foot: Then having taken a dram of Cordial Waters

to strengthen my Heart, I went back to look for my Machine; but I could

not find it, for some Soldiers, that had been sent into the Forest to

cut wood for a Bonnefire, meeting with it by chance, had carried it

with them to the Fort: Where after a great deal of guessing what it

might be, when they had discovered the invention of the Spring, some

said, that a good many Fire-Works should be fastened to it, because

their Force carrying them up on high, and the Machine playing its large

Wings, no Body but would take it for a Fiery Dragon. In the mean time

I was long in search of it, but found it at length in the Market-place

of Kebeck (Quebec), just as they were setting Fire to it. I was so

transported with Grief, to find the Work of my Hands in so great Peril,

that I ran to the Souldier that was giving Fire to it, caught hold of

his Arm, pluckt the Match out of his Hand, and in great rage threw

my self into my Machine, that I might undo the Fire-Works that they

had stuck about it; but I came too late, for hardly were both my Feet

within, when whip, away went I up in a Cloud.

The Horror and Consternation I was in did not so confound the faculties

of my Soul, but I have since remembered all that happened to me at that

instant. For so soon as the Flame had devoured one tier of Squibs,

which were ranked by six and six, by means of a Train that reached

every half-dozen, another tier went off, and then another;[2] so that

the Salt-Peter taking Fire, put off the danger by encreasing it.

However, all the combustible matter being spent, there was a period put

to the Fire-work; and whilst I thought of nothing less than to knock

my Head against the top of some Mountain, I felt, without the least

stirring, my elevation continuing; and adieu Machine, for I saw it fall

down again towards the Earth.

[Illustration: CYRANO en route FOR THE MOON.--From a 17th Century

Engraving.]

That extraordinary Adventure puffed up my Heart with so uncommon a

Gladness; that, ravished to see my self delivered from certain danger,

I had the impudence to philosophize upon it. Whilst then with Eyes and

Thought I cast about to find what might be the cause of it, I perceived

my flesh blown up, and still greasy with the Marrow, that I had daubed

my self over with for the Bruises of my fall: I knew that the Moon

being then in the Wain, and that it being usual for her in that Quarter

to suck up the Marrow of Animals, she drank up that wherewith I was

anointed, with so much the more force that her Globe was nearer to me,

and that no interposition of Clouds weakened her Attraction.[3]

When I had, according to the computation I made since, advanced a good

deal more than three quarters of the space that divided the Earth from

the Moon; all of a sudden I fell with my Heels up and Head down, though

I had made no Trip; and indeed, I had not been sensible of it, had not

I felt my Head loaded under the weight of my Body: The truth is, I knew

very well that I was not falling again towards our World; for though I

found my self to be betwixt two Moons, and easily observed, that the

nearer I drew to the one, the farther I removed from the other; yet I

was certain, that ours was the bigger Globe of the two: Because after

one or two days Journey, the remote Refractions of the Sun, confounding

the diversity of Bodies and Climates, it appeared to me only as a

large Plate of Gold: That made me imagine, that I byassed[4] towards

the Moon; and I was confirmed in that Opinion, when I began to call to

mind, that I did not fall till I was past three quarters of the way.

For, said I to my self, that Mass being less than ours, the Sphere of

its Activity must be of less Extent also; and by consequence, it was

later before I felt the force of its Center.

[1] The Feast of St. John the Baptist, June 24.

[2] _Cf_. the play of _Cyrano de Bergerac_, act III., scene xi.:

"Or else, mechanic as well as artificer, I could have fashioned a

giant grasshopper, with steel joints, which, impelled by successive

explosions of saltpetre, would have hopped with me to the azure meadows

where graze the starry flocks."

[3] _Cf_., in the play, the fifth of Cyrano's means for scaling the

sky: "Since Phoebe, the moon-goddess, when she is at wane, is greedy, O

beeves! of your marrow,... with that marrow have besmeared myself!"

[4] The translator has apparently misread _biaisais_ where the French

editions have _baissais_: _i.e._, I _was descending_ toward the moon.

CHAPTER V.

_Of his Arrival there, and of the Beauty of that Country in which he

fell._

In fine, after I had been a very long while in falling, as I judged,

for the violence of my Precipitation hindered me from observing it more

exactly: The last thing I can remember is, that I found my self under

a Tree, entangled with three or four pretty large Branches which I had

broken off by my fall; and my face besmeared with an Apple, that had

dashed against it.

By good luck that place was, as you shall know by and by * * * * * *[1]

that you may very well conclude, that had it not been for that Chance,

if I had had a thousand lives, they had been all lost. I have many

times since reflected upon the vulgar Opinion, That if one precipitate

himself from a very high place, his breath is out before he reach the

ground; and from my adventure I conclude it to be false, or else that

the efficacious Juyce of that Fruit,[2] which squirted into my mouth,

must needs have recalled my soul, that was not far from my Carcass,

which was still hot and in a disposition of exerting the Functions of

Life. The truth is, so soon as I was upon the ground my pain was gone,

before I could think what it was; and the Hunger, which I felt during

my Voyage, was fully satisfied with the sense that I had lost it.[3]

When I was got up, I had hardly taken notice of the largest of Four

great Rivers, which by their conflux make a Lake; when the Spirit, or

invisible Soul, of Plants that breath upon that Country, refreshed my

Brain with a delightful smell: And I found that the Stones there were

neither hard nor rough; but that they carefully softened themselves

when one trode upon them.

[4] I presently lighted upon a Walk with five Avenues, in figure like

to a Star; the Trees whereof seemed to reach up to the Skie, a green

plot of lofty Boughs: Casting up my Eyes from the root to the top, and

then making the same Survey downwards, I was in doubt whether the Earth

carried them, or they the Earth, hanging by their Roots: Their high and

stately Forehead seemed also to bend, as it were by force, under the

weight of the Celestial Globes; and one would say, that their Sighs and

out-stretched Arms, wherewith they embraced the Firmament, demanded of

the Stars the bounty of their purer Influences before they had lost

any thing of their Innocence in the contagious Bed of the Elements.

The Flowers there on all hands, without the aid of any other Gardiner

but Nature, send out so sweet (though wild) a Perfume, that it rouzes

and delights the Smell: There the incarnate of a Rose upon the Bush,

and the lively Azure of a Violet under the Rushes, captivating the

Choice, make each of themselves to be judged the Fairest: There the

whole Year is Spring; there no poysonous Plant sprouts forth, but is

as soon destroyed; there the Brooks by an agreeable murmuring, relate

their Travels to the Pebbles; there Thousands of Quiristers make the

Woods resound with their melodious Notes; and the quavering Clubs of

these divine Musicians are so universal, that every Leaf of the Forest

seems to have borrowed the Tongue and shape of a Nightingale; nay, and

the Nymph _Eccho_ is so delightful[5] with their Airs, that to hear her

repeat, one would say, She were sollicitous to learn them. On the sides

of that Wood are Two Meadows, whose continued Verdure seems an Emerauld

reaching out of sight. The various Colours, which the Spring bestows

upon the numerous little Flowers that grow there, so delightfully

confounds and mingles their Shadows, that it is hard to be known,

whether these Flowers shaken with a gentle Breeze pursue themselves,

or fly rather from the Caresses of the Wanton _Zephyrus_; one would

likewise take that Meadow for an Ocean, because, as the Sea, it

presents no Shoar to the view; insomuch, that mine Eye fearing it might

lose it self, having roamed so long, and discovered no Coast, sent my

Thoughts presently thither; and my Thoughts, imagining it to be the end

of the World, were willing to be perswaded, that such charming places

had perhaps forced the Heavens to descend and join the Earth there. In

the midst of that vast and pleasant Carpet, a rustick Fountain bubbles

up in Silver Purles, crowning its enamelled Banks with Sets of Violets,

and multitudes of other little Flowers, that seem to strive which shall

first behold it self in that Chrystal Myrroir: It is as yet in the

Cradle, being but newly Born, and its Young and smooth Face shews not

the least Wrinkle. The large Compasses it fetches, in circling within

it self, demonstrate its unwillingness to leave its native Soyl: And as

if it had been ashamed to be caressed in presence of its Mother, with a

Murmuring it thrust back my hand that would have touched it: The Beasts

that came to drink there, more rational than those of our World, seemed

surprised to see it day upon the Horizon, whilst the Sun was with the

_Antipodes_; and durst not bend downwards upon the Brink, for fear of

falling into the Firmament.

I must confess to you, That at the sight of so many Fine things, I

found my self tickled with these agreeable Twitches, which they say the

_Embryo_ feels upon the infusion of its Soul: My old Hair fell off, and

gave place for thicker and softer Locks: I perceived my Youth revived,

my face grow ruddy, my natural Heat mingle gently again with my radical

Moisture: And in a word, I grew younger again by at least Fourteen

Years.

[1] "That place was," unquestionably, the Garden of Eden, which Cyrano

heretically locates in the Moon; and the "Tree" turough which he has

fallen, and an "Apple" of which has besmeared his face and recalled him

to life, is the Tree of Life, that stood "in the midst of the garden."

This is the first of a series of hiatuses, which occur in all the

French editions as well as the English, and which are marked by those

stars that Cyrano refers to in the play: "But I intend setting all

this down in a book, and the golden stars I have brought back caught

in my shaggy mantle, when the book is printed, will be seen serving as

asterisks."

Lebret speaks of these gaps in his preface, saying he would have tried

to fill them but for fear of mixing his style with Cyrano's: "For the

melancholy colour of my style will not let me imitate the gayety of

his; nor can my Wit follow the fine flights of his Imagination."

It seems altogether improbable, however, that Cyrano himself left

the work thus incomplete, as Lebret would imply. And in fact we can

supply from a Manuscript recently acquired (1890) by the _Bibliothèque

Nationale_, a long passage not printed by Lebret (see pp. 60 ff.*).

There can be little doubt that the passages were deliberately _cut out_

by some one on account of their "heretical" character. It even seems

probable, from passages at the beginning of the _Voyage to the Sun_,

that when the work was circulated in Manuscript, Cyrano had been the

object of persecution on account of them.

(*search: start p. 60: "the Earth, I threw out my Bowl...")

The passages lacking were cut out then but by whom? The usually

accepted opinion is that of our English translator, who says the gaps

are "occasioned, not by the Negligence of our Witty French Author, but

by the accursed Plagiary of some rude Hand, that in his sickness rifted

his Trunks and stole his Papers, as he himself complains." M. Brun has

suggested, however, and with some plausibility, that Lebret himself

was responsible for the omissions; and that he thus continued, after

Cyrano's death, his lifelong attempts at reforming and toning down

the impolitic, unorthodox notions of his too-independent friend. So

Cyrano was conquered once more in his battle with "les Compromis, les

Préjugés, les Lâchètes," and finally "la Sottise":

"Je sais bien qu' à la fin vous me mettrez à bas;

N'importe! je me bats, je me bats, je me bats!"

We are proud of printing for the first time in any edition of the

_Voyage to the Moon_, at least a part of what had been cut out; and

of being able to indicate for the first time what must have been the

substance of the other lost passages, and what is the sense of the

fragments preserved.

[2] The Apple of the Tree of Life.

[3] The translation is not fully adequate here; the French means: "...

was fully satisfied, and left me in its place only a slight memory of

having lost it."

[4] This beautiful Nature-description, the like of which cannot be

found in all seventeenth-century French literature outside of Cyrano's

works, was apparently his favorite passage, since it is the only one he

has used twice. _Cf_. his _Lettre XI_., "D'une maison de campagne."

[5] In the literal sense, _full of delight_, delighted.

CHAPTER VI.

_Of a Youth whom he met there, and of their Conversation: what that

country was, and the Inhabitants of it._

I had advanced half a League, through a Forest of Jessamines and

Myrtles, when I perceived something that stirred, lying in the Shade:

It was a Youth, whose Majestick Beauty forced me almost to Adoration.

He started up to hinder me; crying, "It is not to me but to God that

you owe these Humilities." "You see one," answered I, "stunned with so

many Wonders that I know not what to admire most; for coming from a

World, which without doubt you take for a Moon here, I thought I had

arrived in another, which our Worldlings call a Moon also; and behold I

am in Paradice at the Feet of a God, who will not be Adored." "Except

the quality[1] of a God," replied he, "whose Creature I only am, the

rest you say is true: This Land is the Moon, which you see from your

Globe, and this place where you are is * * * * * * * * "[2]

"Now at that time Man's Imagination was so strong, as not being as

yet corrupted, neither by Debauches, the Crudity of Aliments, nor the

alterations of Diseases, that being excited by a violent desire of

coming to this Sanctuary, and his Body becoming light through the heat

of this Inspiration; he was carried thither in the same manner, as some

Philosophers, who having fixed their Imagination upon the contemplation

of a certain Object have sprung up in the Air by Ravishments, which

you call Extasies. The Woman, who through the infirmity of her Sex was

weaker and less hot, could not, without doubt, have the imagination

strong enough to make the Intension of her Will prevail over the

Ponderousness of her Matter; but because there were very few * * * *

the Sympathy which still united that half to its whole,[3] drew her

towards him as he mounted up, as the Amber attracts the Straw, [as] the

Load-stone turns towards the North from whence it hath been taken, and

drew to him that part of himself, as the Sea draws the Rivers which

proceed from it. When they arrived in your Earth, they dwelt betwixt

_Mesopotamia_ and _Arabia_:[4] Some People knew them by the name of * *

* *,[5] and others under that of _Prometheus_, whom the Poets feigned

to have stolen Fire from Heaven, by reason of his Offspring, who were

endowed with a Soul as perfect as his own: So that to inhabit your

World, that Man left this destitute; but the All-wise would not have so

blessed an Habitation, to remain without Inhabitants; He suffered a few

ages after that * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* *[6] cloyed with the company of Men, whose Innocence was corrupted,

had a desire to forsake them. This person,[7] however, thought no

retreat secure enough from the Ambition of Men, who already Murdered

one another about the distribution of your World; except that blessed

Land, which his Grand-Father[8] had so often mentioned unto him, and

to which no Body had as yet found out the way: But his Imagination

supplied that; for seeing he had observed that * * * he filled Two

large Vessels which he sealed Hermetically, and fastened them under

his Armpits: So soon as the Smoak began to rise upwards, and could not

pierce through the Mettal, it forced up the Vessels on high, and with

them also that Great Man.[9] When he was got as high as the Moon, and

had cast his Eyes upon that lovely Garden, a fit of almost supernatural

Joy convinced him, that that was the place where his Grandfather had

heretofore lived. He quickly untied the Vessels, which he had girt

like Wings about his Shoulders, and did it so luckily, that he was

scarcely Four Fathom in the Air above the Moon, when he set his Fins a

going;[10] yet he was high enough still to have been hurt by the fall,

had it not been for the large skirts of his Gown, which being swelled

by the Wind, gently upheld him till he set Foot on ground.[11] As for

the two Vessels, they mounted up to a certain place, where they have

continued: And those are they, which now a-days you call the _Balance_.

"I must now tell you, the manner how I came hither: I believe you have

not forgot my name,[12] seeing it is not long since I told it you. You

shall know then, that I lived on the agreeable Banks of one of the

most renowned Rivers of your World, where amongst my Books, I lead a

Life pleasant enough not to be lamented, though it slipt away fast

enough. In the mean while, the more I encreased in Knowledge, the more

I knew my Ignorance. Our Learned Men never put me in mind of the famous

_Mada_,[13] but the thoughts of his perfect Philosophy made me to Sigh.

I was despairing of being able to attain to it, when one day, after a

long and profound Studying. I took a piece of Load-stone about two Foot

square, which I put into a Furnace; and then after it was well purged,

precipitated and dissolved, I drew the calcined Attractive of it, and

reduced it into the size of about an ordinary Bowl.[14]

"After the Preparations, I got a very light Machine of Iron made,

into which I went, and when I was well seated in my place, I threw

this Magnetick Bowl as high as I could up into the Air. Now the Iron

Machine, which I had purposely made more massive in the middle than

at the ends, was presently elevated, and in a just Poise; because the

middle received the greatest force of Attraction. So then, as I arrived

at the place whither my Load-stone had attracted me, I presently threw

up my Bowl in the Air over me."[15] "But," said I, interrupting him,

"How came you to heave up your Bowl so streight over your Chariot, that

it never happened to be on one side of it?" "That seems to me to be no

wonder at all," said he; "for the Load-stone being once thrown up in

the Air, drew the Iron streight towards it; and so it was impossible,

that ever I should mount sideways. Nay more, I can tell you, that when

I held the Bowl in my hand, I was still mounting upwards; because

the Chariot flew always to the Load-stone, which I held over it. But

the effort of the Iron to be united to my Bowl, was so violent that

it made my Body bend double; so that I durst but once essay that

new Experiment. The truth is, it was a very surprizing Spectacle to

behold; for the Steel of that flying House, which I had very carefully

Polished, reflected on all sides the light of the Sun with so great

life and lustre, that I thought my self to be all on fire.[16] In

fine, after often Bowling and following of my Cast, I came, as you

did, to an Elevation from which I descended towards this World; and

because at that instant I held my Bowl very fast between my hands,

my Machine, whereof the Seat pressed me hard, that it might approach

its Attractive, did not forsake me; all that now I feared was, that

I should break my Neck: But to save me from that, ever now and then

I tossed up my Bowl; that by its attractive Virtue it might prevent

the violent Descent of my Machine, and render my fall more easie, as

indeed it happened; for when I saw my self within Two or three hundred

fathom of the Earth, I threw out my Bowl on all hands, level with the

Chariot, sometimes on this side, and sometimes on that, until I came

to a certain Distance; and immediately then, I tossed it up above me;

so that my Machine following it, I left it, and let my self fall on

the other side, as gently as I could, upon the Sand; insomuch that my

fall was no greater than if it had been but my own height. I shall not

describe to you the amazement I was in at the sight of the wonders of

this place, seeing it was so like the same, wherewith I just now saw

you seized. [17] You shall know then, that on the morrow I met with the

Tree of Life, by the means of which I have kept my self from growing

old; it straightway consumed the Serpent[18] and made him to vanish

away in smoke."

At these words: "Venerable and holy patriarch," said I to him, "I am

eager to know what you understand by that Serpent which was consumed."

He, with face a smiling, answered me thus:...[19]

"The Tree of Knowledge is planted opposite; its fruit is covered with

a Rind which produces Ignorance in whomsoever hath tasted thereof; yet

this Rind preserves underneath its thickness all the spiritual virtues

of this learned food. God, when he had driven Adam from this fortunate

country, rubbed his gums with this same Rind, that he might never find

the way back again; for more than fifteen years thereafter he did dote,

and did so completely forget all things, that neither he nor any of his

descendants till Moses ever remembered even so much as the Creation;

but what Power was left of this direful Rind at last passed away

through the warmth and brightness of that great Prophet's genius.

"I happily met with one among these apples, which through ripeness

was despoiled of its skin; hardly had my mouth watered with it, when

Universal Knowledge penetrated my being, I felt as it were an infinite

number of Eyes fix themselves in my head, and I knew the means of

speaking with the Lord.

"When I have since reflected on these miraculous events, I have judged

that I could in no wise have overcome, by any occult powers of a simple

natural body, the vigilance of that Seraph whom God has ordained to

guard this Paradise; but since he is pleased to use _second causes_, I

imagined that he had inspired me to find this means of entering there;

even as he thought good to take of the ribs of Adam to make him a wife,

though he could form her of Earth, as well as he did Adam.

"I remained long in this Garden, walking about alone; but in fine,

since the angel that was Keeper of the Gate seemed to me to be in chief

my Host here, I was taken with the desire to salute him. In an hour's

journey I came to a place where a thousand Lightnings mingled together

in one blinding light that served but to make Darkness visible. I was

not yet fully recovered from this dazzlement, when I saw before me a

beautiful Young man. 'I am,' said he, 'the Archangel whom you seek,

I have but now read in God that he had inspired you with the means of

coming here, and that he willed you should here expect his pleasure.'

He talked with me of many things, and told me among the rest:

"That the light wherewith I had been amazed was nothing fearful, but

that it appeared almost every evening when he went his rounds, seeing

that to avoid sudden attack from the Evil Spirits, which may enter

secretly at any place, he was constrained mightily to swing his Flaming

Sword in circles, all about the bounds of the Earthly Paradise; and

that the light I had seen was the lightnings which the steel of it gave

forth. 'Those also which you perceive from your Earth,' he added, 'are

of my creation. And if sometimes you see them at a great distance, it

is because the clouds of some distant region hold themselves in such

disposition as to receive an impression of these unbodied fires, and

reflect them to your eyes; just as clouds otherwise disposed may prove

themselves fit to make the Rainbow.'

"I will not instruct you further in these matters, since to be sure the

Apple of Knowledge is not far from hence; whereof as soon as you have

eaten, you will know all things even as I. But see you make no mistake,

for most of the Fruits that hang from that Plant are encased in a Rind,

whose taste will abase you even below man; while the part within will

make you mount up to be even as the Angels."

Elijah had come to this point of the teachings of the Seraph, when

a little short man came up with us; "This is that Enoch of whom I

told you," said my guide to me apart; and even while he finished

the words, Enoch offered us a basketful of I know not what fruits,

like to Pomegranates, which he had but discovered that same day in a

distant coppice. I took some and put in my pockets, as Elijah bade me.

Here-upon Enoch asked him who I might be. "That is a matter," answered

my guide, "to entertain us at more leisure; this evening when we have

withdrawn he shall tell us himself of the miraculous particulars of his

journey."

With these words we arrived beneath a sort of Hermitage, made of

palm-branches skilfully interlaced with myrtle and orange-branches.

There I saw, in a little nook, great piles of a kind of floss-silk, so

white and so delicate that one might take it for the virgin Soul of

the snow; and I saw distaffs lying here and there; whereupon I asked

my guide what use they served. "To spin," he answered me; "when the

good Enoch would relax his mind from meditation, he applies himself

sometimes to dressing this Lady-distaff, sometimes to weaving the cloth

from which they make Shifts for the eleven thousand Virgins. Surely

in your world you have met with that something white, which flutters

on the winds in Autumn about the season of the Winter-sowings. Your

peasant-folk call it Our Lady's Cotton, but it is no other than the

Flock that Enoch purges his Linen of, when he cards it."

We made little delay there, and but barely took leave of Enoch, whom

this cabin served for his Cell; in truth what made us leave him so soon

was this: that he said some prayer there every six hours; and it was at

least that time since he had finished the last one.

As we went forward, I begged Elijah to finish that history which he had

begun, of the _Assumptions_ or _Translations_; and I said, that he had

come, I thought, to that of Saint _John_ the Evangelist.

Then said he to me: "Since you have not the patience, to wait till the

Apple of Knowledge teach you all these things better than I can, I will

even tell you. Know then that God----"

At this word, in some way I know not how, the Devil would have his

Finger in that pie; or howsoever it came about, so it was that I could

not forbear Interrupting him with raillery.

"I remember that case," said I: "God heard one day that the Soul of the

Evangelist was so loosed from his Body, that he no more kept it in but

by shutting his teeth hard; and at that moment the hour when he had

foreseen that he should be translated hither was almost past; so having

no time to get him a machine made ready for coming, He was constrained

to make him suddenly _be_ here, without having time to _bring_ him."

During all my discourse Elijah bent upon me such a look, as would have

been fit to kill me, had I then been capable of dying from aught but

Hunger. "Thou Wretch," said he, and drew back in horror, "thou hast

the insolence to rail at Holy Things! Surely thou shouldst not go

unpunished, were it not that the All-wise determines to spare thee as

a marvellous example of His long-suffering, a witness to the Nations.

Get hence, thou Blasphemer, go thou and publish in this little World,

and in the other (for thou art predestined to return thither), the

unforgetting Hatred that God bears to Atheists."

Hardly had he finished this Curse, when he seized me roughly to drag

me toward the Gate. When we were arrived beside a great Tree whose

branches bent almost to Earth with the burden of their Fruit, "Here,"

said he, "is that Tree of Knowledge where thou shouldst have got

Enlightenment inconceivable, but for thy Infidelity."

At that word I feigned to swoon with weakness, and letting my self fall

against a low branch I handily filched an Apple from it. And in but a

few strides more I was set down outside of that delicious Garden.

In that moment, being so violently pressed by Hunger, that I even

forgot I was in the grip of the angry Prophet, I drew from my pocket

one of those Apples I had filled it with, wherein I buried my teeth as

deep as I could. But so it was, that in place of taking one of those

Enoch had given me, my hand fell on that very Apple I had plucked from

the Tree of Knowledge, which for my misfortune I had not freed of its

Rind.]

[20] Scarcely had I tasted it, when a thick Cloud overcast my Soul:

I saw no body now near me; and in the whole Hemisphere my Eyes could

not discern the least Tract of the way I had made; yet nevertheless I

fully remembered every thing that befel me. When I reflected since upon

that Miracle, I fanced that the skin of the Fruit which I bit had not

rendered me altogether brutish; because my Teeth piercing through it

were a little moistened by the Juyce within, the efficacy whereof had

dissipated the Malignities of the Rind. I was not a little surprised to

see my self all alone, in a Country I knew not. It was to no purpose

for me to stare and look about me; for no Creature appeared to comfort

me.

[1] "Quality" = _title_--as often in the seventeenth century; _cf_.

Shakspere, _Henry V_.:

"Gentlemen of blood and quality."

[2] Probably a long passage has been lost here, in which the "Youth"

(the Prophet Elijah, who had "translated" himself hither and become

young by eating of the Tree of Life) describes the place where they

are as the original Garden of Eden; and tells of the Creation, the

Fall, and the Banishment of Adam and Eve. At the beginning of the next

paragraph he is still speaking, and telling of Adam's transference from

the Moon to the Earth.

[3] The woman to the man, from whose side she was taken. Probably only

a few words have been omitted at the last hiatus.

[4] The supposed situation of the Earthly Paradise.

[5] Adam and Eve.

[6] We may imagine this a short hiatus, to be filled in as follows:

"He suffered a few ages after that, _that a holy man, whose name was

Enoch_, cloyed with the company of men...." etc.

[7] Enoch. On his translation, which Cyrano here makes Elijah account

for, see Genesis, chapter v.

[8] Adam. Cyrano may possibly have confused the Enoch who was

translated with another Enoch who was the son of Cain and so grandson

of Adam. But it is more probable that he used the word _aïeul_ in its

common sense of _ancestor_; as indeed "grandfather" was used in old

English.

[9] _Cf_. the play: "Since smoke by its nature ascends, I could have

blown into an appropriate globe a sufficient quantity to ascend with

me."

[10] "Qu'il prit congé de ses nageoires," = "when he _abandoned_ his

_floats_ (or _bladders_)."

[11] Cyrano may here be credited with anticipating the idea of the

parachute.

[12] Elijah, The passage referred to is lost.

[13] Spell the name backward.

[14] _Ball_ Cf. _Bowling_. Cf. also p. 177. (Search: start p. 177:

"... mentally divided every little Visible Body...")

[15] _Cf_. the "sixth means" in the play: "Or else, I could have placed

myself upon an iron plate, have taken a magnet of suitable size, and

thrown it in the air! That way is a very good one! The magnet flies

upward, the iron instantly after; the magnet no sooner overtaken

than you fling it up again.... The rest is clear! You can go upward

indefinitely."

[16] The "chariot of fire" in which Elijah was taken up into heaven.

_Cf_. 2 Kings, ii. 11.

[17] The following pages are translated from the text as printed for

the first time, from the Manuscript at the _Bibliothèque Nationale_, in

an appendix to M. Brun's thesis on Cyrano Bergerac, 1893.

[18] "The serpent," as soon appears, is original sin, which

"Brought _death_ into the world, and all our woe."

[19] Our author's treatment of "original sin" is, according to M. Brun,

unprintable.

[20] Here the original text resumes, as found in all the editions, both

French and English.

CHAPTER VII.

_Being cast out from that Country, of the new_ _Adventures which Befell

him; and of the_ Demon _of_ Socrates.

At length I resolved to march forwards, till Fortune should afford

me the company of some Beasts, or at least the means of Dying. She

favourably granted my desire; for within half a quarter of a League,

I met two huge Animals, one of which stopt before me, and the other

fled swiftly to its Den; for so I thought at least; because that some

time after, I perceived it come back again in company of above Seven

or Eight hundred of the same kind, who beset me. When I could discern

them at a near distance, I perceived that they were proportioned and

shaped like us. This adventure brought into my mind the old Wives Tales

of my Nurse concerning _Syrenes, Faunes_ and _Satyrs_: Ever now and

then they raised such furious Shouts, occasioned undoubtedly by their

Admiration[1] at the sight of me, that I thought I was e'en turned a

Monster. At length one of these Beast-like men, catching hold of me by

the Neck, just as Wolves do when they carry away Sheep, tossed me upon

his back and brought me into their Town; where I was more amazed than

before, when I knew they were Men, that I could meet with none of them

but who marched upon all four.

When these People saw that I was so little, (for most of them are

Twelve Cubits long,) and that I walked only upon Two Legs, they could

not believe me to be a Man: For they were of opinion, that Nature

having given to men as well as Beasts Two Legs and Two Arms, they

should both make use of them alike. And, indeed, reflecting upon

that since, that scituation of Body did not seem to me altogether

extravagant; when I called to mind, that whilst Children are still

under the nurture of Nature, they go upon all four, and that they rise

not on their two Legs but by the care of their Nurses; who set them in

little running Chairs, and fasten straps to them, to hinder them from

falling on all four, as the only posture that the shape of our Body

naturally inclines to rest in.

They said then, (as I had it interpreted to me since) That I was

infallibly the Female of the Queens little Animal. And therefore as

such, or somewhat else, I was carried streight to the Town-House,

where I observed by the muttering and gestures both of the People and

Magistrates, that they were consulting what sort of a thing I could be.

When they had conferred together a long while, a certain Burgher, who

had the keeping of the strange Beasts, besought the Mayor and Aldermen

to commit me to his Custody, till the Queen should send for me to

couple me to my Male. This was granted without any difficulty, and that

Juggler carried me to his House; where he taught me to Tumble, Vault,

make Mouths, and shew a Hundred odd Tricks, for which in the Afternoons

he received Money at the door from those that came in to see me.

But Heaven pitying my Sorrows, and vext to see the Temple of its Maker

profaned, so ordered it, that one day [when] I was tied to a Rope,

wherewith the Mountebank made me Leap and Skip to divert the People,

I heard a Man's voice, who asked me what I was, in Greek. I was much

surprised to hear one speak in that Country as they do in our World. He

put some Questions to me, which I answered, and then gave him a full

account of my whole design, and the success of my Travels: He took the

pains to comfort me, and, as I take it, said to me: "Well, Son, at

length you suffer for the frailties of your World: There is a Mobile[2]

here, as well as there, that can sway with nothing but what they are

accustomed to: But know, that you are but justly served; for had any

one of this Earth had the boldness to mount up to yours, and call

himself a Man, your Sages would have destroyed him as a Monster."

[Sidenote: The Demon of Socrates]

He then told me, That he would acquaint the Court with my disaster;

adding, that so soon as he had heard the news that went of me, he

came to see me, and was satisfied that I was a man of the World of

which I said I was; because he had Travelled there formerly, and

sojourned in _Greece_, where he was called the _Demon of Socrates_:

That after the Death of that Philosopher, he had governed and taught

_Epaminondas_ at _Thebes_: After which being gone over to the _Romans_,

Justice had obliged him to espouse the party of the Younger _Cato_:

That after his Death, he had addicted himself to Brutus: That all

these great Men having left in that World no more but the shadow of

their Virtues, he with his Companions had retreated to Temples and

Solitudes. "In a word," added he, "the People of your World became so

dull and stupid, that my Companions and I lost all the Pleasure that

formerly we had had in instructing them: Not but that you have heard

Men talk of us; for they called us _Oracles, Nymphs, Geniuses, Fairies,

Houshold-Gods, Lemmes_,[3] _Larves_[4] _Lamiers_,[5] _Hobgoblins,

Nayades, Incubusses, Shades, Manes, Visions_ and _Apparitions_: We

abandoned your World, in the Reign of _Augustus_, not long after I had

appeared to _Drusus_ the Son of _Livia_, who waged War in _Germany_,

whom I forbid to proceed any farther. It is not long since I came from

thence a second time; within these Hundred Years I had a Commission to

Travel thither: I roamed a great deal in _Europe_, and conversed with

some, whom possibly you may have known. One Day, amongst others, I

appeared to _Cardan_,[6] as he was at his Study; I taught him a great

many things, and he in acknowledgment promised me to inform Posterity

of whom he had those Wonders, which he intended to leave in writing.[7]

There I saw _Agrippa_[8] the Abbot _Trithemius_[9] Doctor _Faustus_,

_La Brosse_, _Cæsar_,[10] and a certain Cabal of Young Men, who are

commonly called _Rosacrucians_[11] or _Knights of the Red Cross_, whom

I taught a great many Knacks and Secrets of Nature, which without doubt

have made them pass for great Magicians: I knew _Campanella_[12] also;

it was I that advised him, whilst he was in the Inquisition at _Rome_,

to put his Face and Body into the usual Postures of those whose inside

he needed to know, that by the same frame of Body he might excite

in himself the thoughts which the same scituation had raised in his

Adversaries; because by so doing, he might better manage their Soul,

when he came to know it; and at my desire he began a Book, which we

Entituled, _De Sensu Rerum_.[13]

"I likewise haunted, in _France, La Mothe le Vayer_[14] and

_Gassendus_;[15] this last hath written as much like a Philosopher,

as the other lived: I have known a great many more there, whom your

Age call _Divines_[16] but all that I could find in them was a great

deal of Babble and a great deal of Pride. In fine, since I past over

from your Country into _England_, to acquaint my self with the manners

of its Inhabitants, I met with a Man, the shame of his Country; for

certainly it is a great shame for the Grandees of your States to

know the virtue which in him has its Throne, and not to adore him:

That I may give you an Abridgement of his Panegyrick, he is all

Wit, all Heart, and possesses all the Qualities, of which one alone

was heretofore sufficient to make an Heroe: It was _Tristan_ the

Hermite.[17] The Truth is, I must tell you, when I perceived so exalted

a Virtue I mistrusted it would not be taken notice of, and therefore

I endeavoured to make him accept Three Vials, the first filled with

the Oyl of Talk,[18] the other with the Powder of Projection,[19] and

the third with _Aurum Potabile_;[20] but he refused them with a more

generous Disdain than _Diogenes_ did the Complements of _Alexander_. In

fine, I can add nothing to the Elogy[21] of that Great Man, but that he

is the only Poet, the only Philosopher, and the only Freeman amongst

you: These are the considerable Persons that I conversed with; all

the rest, at least that I know, are so far below Man that I have seen

Beasts somewhat above them.

"After all, I am not a Native neither of this Country nor yours, I was

born in the Sun; but because sometimes our World is overstock'd with

people, by reason of the long Lives of the Inhabitants, and that there

is hardly any Wars or Diseases amongst them: Our Magistrates, from time

to time, send Colonies into the neighbouring Worlds. For my own part,

I was commanded to go to yours; being declared Chief of the Colony

that accompanyed me. I came since into this World, for the Reasons I

told you; and that which makes me continue here, is, because the Men

are great lovers of Truth; and have no Pedants among them; that the

Philosophers are never perswaded but by Reason, and that the Authority

of a Doctor, or of a great number, is not preferred before the Opinion

of a Thresher in a Barn, when he has right on his side. In short, none

are reckoned Madmen in this Country, but Sophisters and Orators." I

asked him how they lived? he made answer, three or four thousand Years;

and thus went on:

"Though the Inhabitants of the Sun be not so numerous as those of this

World; yet the Sun is many times over stocked, because the People being

of a hot constitution are stirring and ambitious, and digest much."

"You ought not to be surprised at what I tell you; for though our Globe

be very vast, and yours little, though we die not before the end of

Four thousand Years, and you at the end of Fifty; yet know, that as

there are not so many Stones as clods of Earth, nor so many Animals as

Plants, nor so many Men as Beasts; just so there ought not to be so

many Spirits as Men, by reason of the difficulties that occur in the

Generation of a perfect Creature."

I asked him, if they were Bodies as we are? He made answer, That they

were Bodies, but not like us, nor any thing else which we judged such;

because we call nothing a Body commonly, but what we can touch: That,

in short, there was nothing in Nature but what was material; and that

though they themselves were so, yet they were forced, when they had a

mind to appear to us, to take Bodies proportionated to what our Senses

are able to know; and that, without doubt, that was the reason why many

have taken the Stories that are told of them for the Delusions of a

weak Fancy, because they only appeared in the night time: He told me

withal, That seeing they were necessitated to piece together the Bodies

they were to make use of, in great haste, many times they had not

leisure enough to render them the Objects of more Senses than one at a

time, sometimes of the Hearing, as the Voices of _Oracles_, sometimes

of the Sight, as the _Fires_ and _Visions_, sometimes of the Feeling,

as the _Incubusses_; and that these Bodies being but Air condensed in

such or such a manner, the Light dispersed them by its heat, in the

same manner as it scatters a Mist.

So many fine things as he told me, gave me the curiosity to question

him about his Birth and Death; if in the Country of the Sun, the

_individual_ was procreated by the ways of Generation, and if it died

by the dissolution of its Constitution, or the discomposure of its

Organs? "Your senses," replied he, "bear but too little proportion

to the Explication of these Mysteries: Ye Gentlemen imagine, that

whatsoever you cannot comprehend is spiritual, or that it is not at

all; but that Consequence[22] is absurd, and it is an argument, that

there are a Million of things, perhaps, in the Universe, that would

require a Million of different Organs in you to understand them. For

instance, I by my Senses know the cause of the Sympathy that is betwixt

the Load-stone and the Pole, of the ebbing and flowing of the Sea, and

what becomes of the Animal after Death; you cannot reach these high

Conceptions but by Faith, because they are Secrets above the power of

your Intellects; no more than a Blind-man can judge of the beauties of

a Land-skip, the Colours of a Picture, or the streaks of a Rainbow; or

at best he will fancy them to be somewhat palpable, to be like Eating,

a Sound, or a pleasant Smell: Even so, should I attempt to explain to

you what I perceive by the Senses which you want, you would represent

it to your self as somewhat that may be Heard, Seen, Felt, Smelt or

Tasted, and yet it is no such thing."

He was gone on so far in his Discourse, when my Juggler perceived, that

the Company began to be weary of my Gibberish, that they understood

not, and which they took to be an inarticulated Grunting: He therefore

fell to pulling my Rope afresh to make me leap and skip, till the

Spectators having had their Belly-fulls of Laughing, affirmed that I

had almost as much Wit as the Beasts of their Country, and so broke up.

[1] Astonishment.

[2] Mobile = people, populace. _Cf_. p. 145. (Search: start p. 145:

"... there he entertained me till Suppertime...")

[3] Lemures; malicious spirits of the dead. _Cf_. Milton:

"The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint."

[4] Lars, larvas; ghosts, spectres.

[5] Lamias; female demons or vampires.

[6] _Cf_. p. 12 (Search: start p. 12: "... Accident, Providence, Fortune,

or what...")

[7] "Jerome Cardan pretended to have written most of his books under

the dictation of a Familiar Spirit ... but, in his treatise _De Rerum

Varietate_, he ingenuously declares that he had never had any other

genius but his own: _Ego certe nullum dæmonem aut genium mihi adesse

cognosce_" (Note of Paul Lacroix.)

[8] Cornelius Agrippa of Nettesheim, 1486-1535, philosopher,

astrologer, and alchemist. Cyrano introduces him in his _Lettre XII_.,

"Pour les Sorciers."

[9] Jean Trithème (or Johann Tritheim), Abbot of Spanheim; a man of

universal scholarship, and an experimenter in alchemy; also accused of

sorcery.

[10] César de Nostradamus, physician and astrologer of the early

sixteenth century.

[11] A famous occult order which probably never existed, but about

which much was written in the first half of the seventeenth century.

It was supposed to have been founded early in the fifteenth century by

Rosenkrenz, a pilgrim who had acquired all the wisdom of the Orient.

[12] Tomaso Campanella, 1568-1639, Italian poet and philosopher, who

came to Paris in 1634. His philosophy was much admired by Cyrano, since

he rejected the Aristotelism of the schools, advocated empiricism

as the only method of arriving at truth, and insisted on the "four

Elements" as the origin of all things.

He appears as an important character in Cyrano's _Voyage to the

Sun_, where he is Cyrano's companion and guide to the Land of the

Philosophers.

[13] Campanella's principal work, published in 1620.

[14] François de La Mothe le Vayer, 1588-1672. He was the tutor of the

Due d'Orléans, brother of Louis XIV., and, after 1654, of Louis XIV.

himself. In philosophy he was a free-thinker, in literature a disciple

of Montaigne. He nevertheless concealed his scepticism in philosophy,

even in his chief work, the _Doutes sceptiques_, under a pretended

orthodoxy in religion, and so was never persecuted. Possibly it is to

this that Cyrano refers in saying, that he "_lived_ as much like a

philosopher, as Gassendi wrote."

[15] _Cf_. p 28, n. 1. (See note 5 chap. III)

[16] _Divine_. The translator has mistaken an adjective for a noun.

[17] François Tristan Thermite, 1601-1655, a French dramatist of

importance. His tragedy of _Mariamne_, in date contemporary with

Corneille's _Cid_, marks him as a predecessor of Racine in method and

manner. He is also the author of fugitive verse, but neither that nor

his plays make him quite worthy of Cyrano's exalted "Elogy."

He was compelled to pass the years 1614-1620 in England, on account of

a duel fought at the age of thirteen!

[18] Talc, silicate of magnesia.

[19] The "Philosopher's Stone," in form of powder, for chemical

"projection" upon baser metals, to transmute them into gold.

[20] The "Elixir of Life," or the "Philosopher's Stone" in liquid form.

[21] _Eulogy_. Still so used at the end of the eighteenth century.

[22] Consequence = _conclusion_, deduction. Cf. Matthew Prior:

"Can syllogisms set things right?

No, majors soon with minors fight.

Or both in friendly consort joined

The consequence limps false behind."

CHAPTER VIII.

_Of the Languages of the People in the Moon; of the Manner of Feeding

there, and Paying the_ Scot; _and of how the Author was taken to Court_.

Thus, all the comfort I had during the misery of my hard Usage,

were the visits of this officious[1] Spirit; for you may judge what

conversation I could have with these that came to see me, since besides

that they only took me for an Animal, in the highest class of the

_Category_ of Bruits, I neither understood their Language, nor they

mine. For you must know, that there are but two Idioms in use in that

Country, one for the Grandees, and another for the People in general.

[Sidenote: Languages of the Moon]

That of the great ones is no more but various inarticulate Tones,

much like to our Musick when the Words are not added to the Air:[2]

and in reality it is an Invention both very useful and pleasant; for

when they are weary of talking, or disdain to prostitute their Throats

to that Office, they take either a Lute or some other Instrument,

whereby they communicate their Thoughts as well as by their Tongue:

So that sometimes Fifteen or Twenty in a Company will handle a point

of Divinity, or discuss the difficulties of a Law-suit, in the most

harmonious Consort that ever tickled the Ear.

The second, which is used by the Vulgar, is performed by a shivering

of the Members, but not, perhaps, as you may imagine; for some parts

of the Body signifie an entire Discourse; for example, the agitation

of a Finger, a Hand, an Ear, a Lip, an Arm, an Eye, a Cheek, every one

severally will make up an Oration, or a Period with all the parts of

it: Others serve only instead of Words, as the knitting of the Brows,

the several quiverings of the Muscles, the turning of the Hands, the

stamping of the Feet, the contorsion of the Arm; so that when they

speak, as their Custom is, stark naked, their Members being used to

gesticulate their Conceptions, move so quick that one would not think

it to be a Man that spoke, but a Body that trembled.

Every day almost the Spirit came to see me, and his rare Conversation

made me patiently bear with the rigour of my Captivity. At length one

morning I saw a Man enter my Cabbin, whom I knew not, who having a

long while licked me gently, took me in his Teeth by the Shoulder, and

with one of his Paws, wherewith he held me up for fear I might hurt my

self, threw me upon his Back; where I found my self so softly seated,

and so much at my ease, that, [though] being afflicted to be used like

a Beast, I had not the least desire of making my escape; and besides,

these Men that go upon all four are much swifter than we, seeing the

heaviest of them make nothing of running down a Stagg.

In the mean time I was extreamly troubled that I had no news of my

courteous Spirit; and the first night we came to our Inn, as I was

walking in the Court, expecting till Supper should be ready, a pretty

handsome young Man came smiling in my Face and cast his Two Fore-Legs

about my Neck. After I had a little considered him: "How!" said he in

_French_, "do you [not] know your Friend then?" I leave you to judge in

what case I was at that time; really, my surprise was so great, that I

began to imagine, that all the Globe of the Moon, all that had befallen

me, and all that I had seen, had only been Enchantment: And that

Beast-man, who was the same that had carried me all day, continued to

speak to me in this manner; "You promised me, that the good Offices I

did you should never be forgotten, and yet it seems you have never seen

me before;" but perceiving me still in amaze: "In fine," said he, "I am

that same Demon of Socrates, who diverted you during your Imprisonment,

and who, that I may still oblige you, took to my self a Body, on which

I carried you to day:" "But," said I interrupting him, "how can that

be, seeing that all Day you were of a very long Stature, and now you

are very short; that all day long you had a weak and broken Voice, and

now you have a clear and vigorous one; that, in short, all day long you

were a Grey-headed old Man, and are now a brisk young Blade: Is it then

that whereas in my Country, the Progress is from Life to Death; Animals

here go Retrograde from Death to Life, and by growing old become young

again."

"So soon as I had spoken to the Prince," said he, "and received orders

to bring you to Court, I went and found you out where you were, and

have brought you hither; but the Body I acted in was so tired out with

the Journey, that all its Organs refused me their ordinary Functions,

so that I enquired the way to the Hospital; where being come in I found

the Body of a young Man, just then expired by a very odd Accident, but

yet very common in this Country. I drew near him, pretending to find

motion in him still, and protesting to those who were present, that he

was not dead, and that what they thought to be the cause of his Death,

was no more but a bare Lethargy; so that without being perceived, I put

my Mouth to his, by which I entered as with a breath: Then down dropt

my old Carcass, and as if I had been that young Man, I rose and came to

look for you, leaving the Spectators crying a Miracle."

[Sidenote: The Manner of Eating]

With this they came to call us to Supper, and I followed my Guide

into a Parlour richly furnished; but where I found nothing fit to be

eaten. No Victuals appearing, when I was ready to die of Hunger, made

me ask him where the Cloath was laid: But I could not hear what he

answered, for at that instant Three or Four young Boys, Children of

the House, drew near, and with much Civility stript me to the Shirt.

This new Ceremony so astonished me, that I durst not so much as ask

my Pretty _Valets de Chamber_ the cause of it; and I cannot tell how

my Guide, who asked me what I would begin with, could draw from me

these two Words, _A Potage_; but hardly had I pronounced them, when I

smelt the odour of the most agreeable Soop that ever steamed in the

rich Gluttons Nose: I was about to rise from my place, that I might

trace that delicious Scent to its source, but my Carrier hindered me:

"Whither are you going," said he, "we shall fetch a walk by and by;

but now it is time to Eat, make an end of your _Potage_, and then

we'll have something else:" "And where the Devil is the _Potage_?"

answered I half angry: "Have you laid a wager you'll jeer me all this

Day?" "I thought," replied he, "that at the Town we came from, you had

seen your Master or some Bo[dy] else at meal, and that's the reason

I told you not, how People feed in this Country. Seeing then you are

still ignorant, you must know, that here they live on Steams. The

art of Cookery is to shut up in great Vessels, made on purpose, the

Exhalations that proceed from the Meat whilst it is a dressing; and

when they have provided enough of several sorts and several tastes,

according to the Appetite of those they treat; they open one Vessel

where that Steam is kept, and after that another; and so on till the

Company be satisfied.

"Unless you have already lived after this manner, you would never

think, that the Nose without Teeth and Gullet can perform the office of

the Mouth in feeding a Man; but I'll make you experience it your self."

He had no sooner said so, but I found so many agreeable and nourishing

Vapours enter the Parlour, one after another, that in less than half a

quarter of an Hour I was fully satisfied. When we were got up; "This

is not a matter," said he, "much to be admired at, seeing you cannot

have lived so long, and not have observed, that all sorts of Cooks, who

eat less than People of another Calling, are nevertheless much Fatter.

Whence proceeds that Plumpness, d'ye think, unless it be from the

Steams that continually environ them, which penetrate into their Bodies

and fatten them? Hence it is, that the People of this World enjoy a

more steady and vigorous Health, by reason that their Food hardly

engenders any Excrements, which are in a manner the original[3] of all

Diseases. You were, perhaps, surprised, that before supper you were

stript, since it is a Custom not practised in your Country; but it is

the fashion of this, and for this end used, that the Animal may be the

more transpirable to the Fumes." "Sir," answered I, "there is a great

deal of probability in what you say, and I have found somewhat of it my

self by experience; but I must frankly tell you, That not being able

to Unbrute my self so soon, I should be glad to feel something that

my Teeth might fix upon:" He promised I should, but not before next

Day; "because," said he, "to Eat so soon after your meal would breed

Crudities."

[Sidenote: The Manner of Lighting]

After we had discoursed a little longer, we went up to a Chamber to

take our rest; a Man met us on the top of the Stairs, who having

attentively Eyed us, led me into a Closet where the floor was strowed

with Orang-Flowers Three Foot thick, and my Spirit into another filled

with Gilly-Flowers and Jessamines: Perceiving me amazed at that

Magnificence, he told me they were the Beds of the Country. In fine,

we laid our selves down to rest in our several Cells, and so soon as

I had stretched my self out upon my Flowers, by the light of Thirty

large Glow-worms shut up in a Crystal, (being the only Candles _Charon_

uses,[4]) I perceived the Three or Four Boys who had stript me before

Supper, One tickling my Feet, another my Thighs, the Third my Flanks,

and the Fourth my Arms, and all so delicately and daintily, that in

less than in a Minute I was fast asleep.

Next Morning by Sun-rising my Spirit came into my Room and said to me,

"Now I'll be as good as my Word, you shall breakfast this Morning more

solidly that you Supped last Night." With that I got up, and he led

me by the Hand to a place at the back of the Garden, where one of the

Children of the House stayed for us, with a Piece in his Hand much like

to one of our Fire-Locks. He asked my Guide if I would have a dozen

of Larks, because _Baboons_ (one of which he took me to be,) loved to

feed on them? I had hardly answered, Yes, when the Fowler discharged a

Shot, and Twenty or Thirty Larks fell at our Feet ready Roasted. This,

thought I presently with my self, verifies the Proverb in our World,

of a Country where Larks fall ready Roasted; without doubt it has been

made by some Body that came from hence. "Fall too, fall too," said

my Spirit, "don't spare; for they have a knack of mingling a certain

Composition with their Powder and Shot, which Kills, Plucks, Roasts,

and Seasons the Fowl all at once." I took up some of them, and eat them

upon his word; and to say the Truth, In all my Life time I never eat

any thing so delicious.

Having thus Breakfasted we prepared to be gone, and with a Thousand odd

Faces, which they use when they would shew their Love, our Landlord

received a Paper from my Spirit. I asked him, if it was a Note for the

Reckoning? He replied, No, that all was paid, and that it was a Copy of

Verses. "How! Verses," said I, "are your Inn-Keepers here curious of

Rhime then?" "It's," said he, "the Money of the Country, and the charge

we have been at here, hath been computed to amount to Three _Couplets_,

or Six Verses, which I have given him. I did not fear we should outrun

the Constable; for though we should Pamper our selves for a whole Week,

we could not spend a _Sonnet_, and I have Four about me, besides Two

_Epigrams_, Two _Odes_, and an _Eclogue_."

"Would to God," said I, "it were so in our World; for I know a good

many honest Poets there who are ready to Starve, and who might live

plentifully if that Money would pass in Payment." I farther asked

him, If these Verses would always serve, if one Transcribed them? He

made answer, No, and so went on: "When an Author has Composed any, he

carries them to the Mint, where the sworn Poets of the Kingdom sit in

Court. There these versifying Officers essay the pieces; and if they be

judged Sterling, they are rated not according to their Coyn; that's to

say, That a _Sonnet_ is not always as good as a _Sonnet_; but according

to the intrinsick value of the piece; so that if any one Starve, he

must be a Blockhead: For Men of Wit make always good Chear." With

Extasie I was admiring the judicious Policy of that Country, when he

proceeded in this manner:

"There are others who keep Publick-house after a far different manner:

When one is about to be gone, they demand, proportionably to the

Charges, an Acquittance for the other World; and when that is given

them, they write down in a great Register, which they call _Doomsday's

Book_, much after this manner: _Item_, The value of so many Verses,

delivered such a Day, to such a Person, which he is to pay upon the

receipt of this Acquittance, out of his readiest Cash: And when they

find themselves in danger of Death, they cause these Registers to be

Chopt in pieces, and swallow them down; because they believe, that if

they were not thus digested, they would be good for nothing."

This Conversation was no hinderance to our Journey; for my Four-legged

Porter jogged on under me, and I rid stradling on his Back. I shall not

be particular in relating to you all the Adventures that happened to us

on our way, till we arrived at length at the Town where the King holds

his Residence.

[1] Officious = kindly, ready to serve, doing good offices. _Cf_.

Milton, _Paradise Lost_:

"Yet, not to earth are those bright luminaries

Officious; but to thee, earth's habitant."

[2] Cf. _The Man in the Moone_, of Francis Godwin: "Their Language

is very difficult, since it hath no Affinity with any other I ever

heard, and consists not so much of Words and Letters, as Tunes and

strange Sounds which no Letters can express; for there are few Words

but signify several Things, and are distinguished only by their Sounds,

which are sung as it were in uttering; yea many Words consist of Tunes

only, without Words."

[3] Origin. _Cf_. pp. 137, 170, 174*; and _cf_. Shakspere, _Henry IV._,

Part II.:

"It hath its original from much grief."

(*p. 137 starts with: "...last meeting, had said, That..."

p. 170: "... Thus he concluded, and..."

p. 174: "CHAPTER IV")

[4]

"... On ne s'attendait guère

De voir [Charon] en cette affaire!"

In fact, our translator has made an amusing mistake, for which the

printer of the 1661 edition is perhaps partly responsible; in that

edition we read] "(Caron ne se sert pas d'autres chandelles)," which

should of course be, as in the other editions, "Caron ...;" "For they

use no other candles."