Preface — By Bernard de Fontenelle
I find myself nearly in the situation of Cicero, when he undertook to write in his own language on philosophical subjects, that, till then, had never been treated of but in Greek. He tells us that his works were said to be useless, because those who delighted in philosophy, having taken the pains to study the books written in Greek, would not afterwards think of examining his Latin ones, which were not originals; and that persons who had no taste for philosophy, would neither care for the Greek nor the Latin.
To which he answers, that exactly the contrary would happen; that the unlearned would be allured to philosophy by the facility of reading Latin works; and that the well-informed, after studying the Greek authors, would be pleased to see how the subjects were handled in Latin.
Cicero might with propriety speak in this manner; his superior genius and great celebrity assured him success in this untried project, but I have not the same advantages to inspire me with confidence, in a similar undertaking. I was desirous of representing philosophy in a way that was not philosophical; I have attempted to compose a book that shall neither be too abstruse for the gay, nor too amusive for the learned. But if what was said to Cicero should be repeated to me, I could not venture to answer as he did: possibly in attempting to find a middle way which would accommodate philosophy to every class, I have chosen one that will not be agreeable to any. It is very difficult to maintain a medium, and I think I shall never be inclined to make a second attempt of this nature.
I should warn those that have some knowledge of natural philosophy, that I do not suppose this book capable of giving them any information; it will merely afford them some amusement, by presenting in a lively manner what they have already become acquainted with by dint of study. I would also inform those who are ignorant of these subjects that it has been my design to amuse and instruct them at the same time: the former will counteract my intention if they here expect improvement, and the latter, if they here only seek for entertainment.
I need not say that of all philosophical subjects I have chosen that which is most calculated to excite curiosity: surely nothing ought to interest us more than to know how our own world is formed; and whether there be other worlds similar to it, and inhabited in the same way: but let no one be disquieted if unable to answer these enquiries; they who have time to spare may examine such subjects; many have it not in their power.
In these Conversations I have represented a woman receiving information on things with which she was entirely unacquainted. I thought this fiction would enable me to give the subject more ornament, and would encourage the female sex in the pursuit of knowledge, by the example of a woman who though ignorant of the sciences, is capable of understanding all she is told, and arranging in her ideas the worlds and vortices. Why should any woman allow the superiority of this imaginary Marchioness, who only believes what she could not avoid understanding?
’Tis true, she gives some attention to the subject, but what sort of attention is requisite? Not such as will laboriously penetrate into an obscure thing, or a thing that is spoken of in an obscure manner; it is needful only to read with sufficient application to render the ideas familiar. Women may understand this system of philosophy by giving it as much attention as they would bestow on the Princess of Cleves, in order to understand the story and see all the beauties of the work. I do not deny that the ideas contained in this book are less familiar to the generality of females than those in the Princess of Cleves, but they are not more abstruse, and I am convinced that on a second perusal they would be perfectly understood.
As I did not wish to establish an imaginary system that had no foundation, I have employed true philosophical arguments, and as many of them as were necessary to establish my opinions; but fortunately the ideas connected with natural philosophy are in themselves beautiful, and whilst they satisfy the understanding, give as much pleasure as if formed only to charm the imagination.
To such parts of my subjects as did not possess these beauties I have given extraneous ornaments; Virgil has done this in his Georgics, where he renders a dry subject interesting by frequent and agreeable digressions: Ovid likewise in his Art of Love has pursued the same plan, although the matter of his poem was far more pleasing than any thing he could add to it: he seems to think it tiresome to speak constantly of one subject—even of love. I have more need of embellishments than he, yet I have used them sparingly. I have only given such as the freedom of conversation authorised; I have only placed them in parts that I thought required them; I have inserted most of them in the commencement of the work to accustom the mind by degrees to the objects I wish to present to its attention, in short, I have derived them from my subject, or formed them as much as possible to resemble my subject.
I did not venture to give any opinions on the inhabitants of the different worlds, since they must have been entirely chimerical; I have endeavoured to express all that might reasonably be imagined, and even the conjectures that are added are not without foundation. Truth and fiction are in some measure blended, but always so as to be distinguishable from each other: I do not undertake to justify such a composition; the union of philosophy and amusement is the chief aim of this work, but I know not whether I have adopted the right method.
It only remains for me now to address one class of persons; they are perhaps the most difficult to satisfy, not because my reasoning is inconclusive, but because they feel themselves privileged to disregard the best arguments: I am speaking of scrupulous people who may imagine religion is endangered by placing inhabitants any where but on the earth. I respect even an excessive scrupulosity when it arises from piety, nor would I willingly hurt the feelings of any one from whom I differed: but by rectifying a little error of the imagination we shall find that this objection cannot affect my system of giving inhabitants to an infinite number of worlds. When you are told that the moon is peopled, you immediately figure to yourself men like ourselves, and then a variety of theological difficulties occur. The posterity of Adam cannot have colonized the moon; therefore the inhabitants of that planet are not descendants of our first parents; now it would be a difficult point in theology to account for the existence of men who had any other ancestor. No more need be said; every imaginable difficulty is included in this, and the expressions that would be necessary for a more full explanation are too worthy of reverence to be employed in a work containing so little of the serious as this. The objection then turns on the existence of men in the moon, but it is the objectors themselves who talk of men as its inhabitants; I have asserted no such thing: I say there are inhabitants, and I likewise say they may not at all resemble us. What are they then?—I have never seen them; I do not speak from acquaintance with them.
Do not consider it a subterfuge, to rid myself of the objection, when I affirm that the moon is not peopled by men; you will see that according to the idea I entertain of the endless diversity of the works of nature, it is impossible such beings as we, should be placed there. This opinion is supported throughout the book, and it is an opinion which no philosopher can deny: I think, therefore, on this ground, the following conversations will be objected to only by those who have never read them. But will this consideration suffice to deliver me from the fear of censure? No; it rather gives me cause to apprehend objections from every side.
FONTENELLE.