First Evening5
THE EARTH IS A PLANET WHICH TURNS ON ITS AXIS, AND GOES ROUND THE SUN.
After supper we went to take a walk in the park. We felt the fragrant breeze of evening peculiarly delightful, as the heat had been intense during the day: the silvery rays of the moon, gleaming through the foliage, formed an agreeable contrast with the darkened shadows of the landscape. Not a cloud intercepted or veiled the smallest star. Every orb appeared a mass of pure gold, rendered more brilliant by the rich blue of the sky. The beauty of the scenery produced a gentle reverie, from which, had not the Marchioness been with me, I should not have been easily roused; but in the company of so interesting a woman I could not long abandon myself to the influence of the moon and stars. Do you not think, said I, addressing myself to her, that the charms of a fine night greatly exceed those of the day? Yes, she replied, the splendour of day resembles a fair and dazzling beauty, but the milder radiance of night may be compared to a woman of less brilliancy of complexion, and more sweetness of expression. You are very generous, resumed I, in giving the preference to the brunette, whilst you are so fair. It is however true, that an unclouded sun is the most glorious object in nature; and it is equally true, that the heroines of romance, the most beautiful objects imagination can depict, have almost invariably been represented with fair complexions. Beauty, answered my companion, is nothing, unless it interests our feelings. You will not deny that the finest day never had the power of inspiring so delightful a reverie as you were falling into just now in contemplating the loveliness of the evening. You are right, said I, but the loveliest night I ever beheld, with all it’s shadowy beauty, would fail to give me such enchanting sensations as the contemplation of the fair face of the Marchioness de G——. I should not be satisfied with your compliment, she replied, did I even believe you sincere, since the brightness of day, with which we have been comparing fair women, has so little influence on your heart. Why do lovers, who undoubtedly can judge of what is most touching, address all their poetic effusions to the night? To the ear of day they neither confide their transports nor their sorrows—why is it so entirely excluded from their confidence? Probably, I answered, because it is not calculated to inspire that delicious sentiment, at once impassioned and melancholy, which we feel in the stillness of night, whilst all nature seems to repose. The stars appear to move with more silent progress than the sun: every object that decorates the heavens is soft, and attractive to the eye: in short, we resign ourselves more easily to reverie because we feel as if no other being was at that time enjoying the pensive pleasure that expands our soul. Perhaps, too, the uniformity of day, in which the sky presents no other object than the sun, is less favourable to the wild and pleasing illusions of fancy than the view of innumerable stars, scattered with sportive irregularity, over the boundless space. I have always felt what you describe, said she, I love to see the stars, and am almost inclined to reproach the sun for hiding them. Ah! cried I, I cannot forgive him for concealing so many worlds from my sight! Worlds! she exclaimed, turning to me with surprise, what do you mean? Forgive me, said I, you touched the wildest chord of my imagination—I forget myself in a romantic idea. And what is this romantic idea? enquired the Marchioness. Ah! replied I, I am half ashamed of owning it:—I have taken it in my head that every star may be a world. I would not positively assert the truth of my opinion, but I believe it because it affords me pleasure; it has possessed my mind with irresistible force; and I consider pleasure a needful accessary to truth. Well, said she, since your whim is such a pleasant one, make me a partaker of it; I’ll believe any thing you chuse about the stars, provided it contributes to my happiness. Ah! madam, I replied, ’tis not such an enjoyment as you would find in seeing one of Molière’s comedies: it is an idea which can only give delight to the understanding. What! exclaimed she, do you think I am not susceptible of pleasures which depend only on reason? I will convince you of your mistake. Teach me your system. No, answered I, I will not subject myself to the reproach of having talked of philosophy, in such an enchanting walk as this, to the most interesting woman of my acquaintance. No, seek for pedants elsewhere.
For a long while I attempted, in vain, to excuse myself; I was at last obliged to yield: I insisted, however, for my reputation’s sake, on a promise of secrecy. Every objection being removed, I wished to begin the subject, but found the commencement extremely difficult; for, with a person who was ignorant of natural philosophy, it was necessary to converse in a very circuitous manner, to prove that the earth was a planet, the other planets similar to the earth, and all the stars so many suns which enlightened a number of worlds. I once more assured her it would be much better to talk on such trifles as other people, in our situation, would amuse themselves with. In the end, however, to give her a general idea of philosophy, I pursued the following plan.
All philosophy, said I, is founded on two things; an inquisitive mind, and defective sight; for if your eyes could discern every thing to perfection you would easily perceive whether each star is a sun, giving light to a number of worlds; on the other hand, had you less curiosity, you would hardly take the trouble to inform yourself about the matter, and consequently remain in equal ignorance; but the difficulty consists in our wanting to become acquainted with more than we see: besides, it is out of our power to understand much of what is even within the reach of our sight, because objects appear to us very different from what they are. Thus philosophers pass their lives in disbelieving what they see, and endeavouring to conjecture what is concealed from them; such a state of mind is not very enviable.
In thinking on this subject, nature always appears to me in the same point of view as theatrical representations. In the situation you occupy at the opera you do not see the whole of its arrangements: the machinery and decorations are so disposed as to produce an agreeable effect at a distance, and at the same time the weights and wheels are hidden by which every motion is effected. You behold all that is passing, without concerning yourself about the causes; and so perhaps do all the other spectators, unless among the number some obscure student of mechanics is puzzling himself to account for an extraordinary motion which he cannot understand. You see the case of this mechanical genius resembles that of the philosopher studying the structure of the universe. What, however, augments the difficulty with respect to philosophers is, that nature so conceals from us the means by which her scenery is produced, that for a long time we were unable to discover the causes of her most simple movements. Figure yourself, as spectators of an opera, the Pythagorases, the Platos, the Aristotles; all these men whose names are so celebrated. Let us suppose them viewing the flight of Phæton, rising on the wind; ignorant at the same time of the construction of the theatre, and the cords by which the figure is put in motion. One to explain the phenomenon, says, it is some hidden virtue in Phæton which causes him to rise; another replies, Phæton is composed of certain numbers which produce his elevation. A third says, Phæton has a love for the top of the stage; he is uneasy at any other part. The fourth thinks, it is not essential to the nature of Phæton to rise in the air, but he prefers flying up to leaving a vacuum at the top of the stage. Such were the ridiculous notions of the ancient philosophers, which to my astonishment have not ruined the reputation of antiquity. After all Descartes and some other moderns appear: they tell you that Phæton rises in consequence of being drawn by cords, fastened to a descending weight, which is heavier than himself. It is no longer believed that a body can have motion, unless acted upon by another body; that it can rise and descend without a counterbalancing weight; thus, whoever examines the mechanism of nature is only going behind the scenes of a theatre. If that be the case, answered the Marchioness, philosophy is a very mechanical affair! So much so, I replied, that I am afraid it will fall into disrepute. In short, the universe is but a watch on a larger scale; all its motions depending on determined laws and the mutual relation of its parts. Confess the truth, have you not hitherto entertained a more exalted idea of the works of nature? Have you not considered them with more veneration than they deserve? I have known some people esteem them less as their knowledge encreased. For my part, said she, I contemplate the universe with more awful delight now I find that such wonderful order is produced by principles so simple.
I know not, rejoined I, how you have acquired such rational ideas, for, to say the truth, they are not very common. The generality are affected only by the obscure and marvellous. They admire nature merely because they consider it a sort of magic; something too occult for the understanding to reach: to them a thing appears contemptible as soon as they find the possibility of explaining its nature: but you, madam, can reason so clearly, that I have only to draw aside the veil, and present the world to your inspection.
What we behold at the greatest distance from our earth is the azure heaven, that immense arch to which the stars seem firmly to adhere. They are called fixed, because they appear to have no other motion than that of their sky, carrying them from east to west. Between the earth and the remote firmament are suspended, at various distances, the sun, moon, and the other five stars, denominated planets; Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.6 These planets not being stationary at one point in the heavens, but having unequal motions, vary with respect to their relative situations; the fixed stars, on the contrary, always bear the same local relation to each other. The chariot, for instance, that you may distinguish, formed of those seven stars, has always had that configuration, and is likely to retain it; but the moon sometimes approaches nearer to the sun; sometimes retreats farther from it; the same is observed of the other planets. Such were the observations made by the Chaldean shepherds whose continual leisure enabled them to give so much attention to the heavenly bodies as to form the rudiments of astronomy, for we learn that that science took its rise in Chaldea,7 as Geometry was first studied in Egypt, where the inundations of the Nile destroyed the boundaries of different possessions, made the inhabitants desirous of exact measures by which they could again separate their own lands from those of their neighbours. Thus astronomy is the offspring of idleness, geometry of interest; and if we enquire into the origin of poetry, we shall probably find that she is the daughter of love.
I am glad, said the Marchioness, you have given me this genealogy of the sciences; astronomy is the only one that will suit me: geometry, according to your account of it, requires a more selfish heart than mine; and I have not susceptibility enough to attempt poetry with success; I have, however, as much leisure as can be needful for the study of astronomy; it is another favourable circumstance that we are in the country, leading a pastoral life. Do not mistake madam, answered I, talking of planets and fixed stars is not all that constitutes a pastoral life. Was the conversation of the shepherds, in the golden age, confined to astronomy? Ah, said she, but it would be dangerous to conform one’s mode of life to their’s. No, that of the other shepherds you mention appears preferable to me; therefore let us converse, if you please, in the Chaldean style. After this disposition of the stars was remarked, what followed? The next thing, I replied, was to imagine the arrangement of the different parts of the universe; that is what the learned call making a system. But before I explain to you the first of these systems, give me leave to premise that we are all naturally disposed to the same sort of madness as a certain Athenian of whom you have heard, who had taken it in his head that every vessel which went into the port of Pyreum belonged to him. We chuse to believe that every thing in creation is destined to our service; and when we enquire of some philosophers the use of such a prodigious number of fixed stars, of which a smaller proportion would have been sufficient for all the offices they appear to perform; they coolly answer, they were made to gratify our sight. On this selfish principle it was for a long time supposed that the earth was motionless in the midst of the universe, whilst all the heavenly bodies were created for the sole purpose of journeying round, and distributing their light to her. Next to the earth they placed the moon, after the moon, Mercury, then Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn; beyond all these the firmament of fixed stars. It was imagined that the earth was stationed exactly in the middle of the circles described by these planets which extended in proportion to their distance from the earth, and that consequently the most remote planets required a longer time to perform their revolutions, which certainly is true. But, interrupted the Marchioness, I can’t see why you should disapprove such an arrangement of the universe, it appears to me sufficiently commodious and intelligible, I really feel quite satisfied with it. I have taken pains, answered I, to represent this system in the most favourable point of view; if I were to explain it exactly as it was conceived by Ptolemy the author of it, and his disciples, you would be quite shocked. As the motions of the planets are irregular, being sometimes quicker, sometimes slower; going sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another; now nearer to the earth, then at a greater distance from it; the ancients figured to themselves an endless number of circles intersecting each other, by which they endeavoured to understand the great variety of movements. The confusion, however, caused by such an infinity of circles was so perplexing that, at the time no better system was known, one of the kings of Castile,8 a profound mathematician, was daring enough to say, that if the supreme Being had consulted him when he created the world, he would have given him some good advice. We are filled with horror at the impiety of this expression, but it serves to shew us how absurd must have been the hypothesis which could prompt it. The advice this man wished to have given, undoubtedly regarded the suppression of so many circles, which did but prevent the planetary motions from being understood. Probably he would likewise have expunged from the system two or three superfluous firmaments, supposed to be above the fixed stars. The philosophers, to explain some particular motion of the heavenly bodies, placed, beyond the heaven that bounds our view, a sky of crystal, which communicated this motion to the lower sky. Was a new movement discovered? they had nothing to do but to form a second crystal firmament. In short skies of crystal were made without any trouble. Why did they always chuse crystal? enquired the Marchioness; would nothing else have answered the purpose as well? No, answered I, it was necessary to have a substance, at once transparent and solid, for it was Aristotle’s opinion that solidity was essential to the dignity of their nature, and as this was believed by a great man, nobody thought of doubting it. But since that time comets have been seen which, being higher than was formerly imagined, must have broken all the crystal of these skies, in passing through them, and by that mean, thrown the universe into confusion; it was therefore found necessary to change the matter of which these firmaments were composed, into a fluid, such as air.
It is now discovered with certainty, by the researches of later ages, that Venus and Mercury turn round the Sun, and not round the earth, on this subject the ancient system is absolutely exploded. I will now acquaint you with another which provides for every difficulty, one that does not require any amendments of the king of Castile, for its simplicity is so charming that one cannot refuse to believe it. Yours, interrupted the Marchioness, seems a sort of bargaining philosophy; whoever offers a system that is effected at the least expense, has the preference. ’Tis true, said I; we have no other chance of understanding the plan by which the operations of nature are carried on. Nature is a wonderful economist; if a work is to be effected, and two ways are practicable, we may be sure she will adopt that which costs her the least, however trifling the difference. This economy is notwithstanding in every respect consistent with the surprising magnificence which appears in all her productions. Magnificence is employed in the design, and frugality in the execution of it. Nothing should excite our admiration so much as a stupendous project effected by simple means: but we are apt to cherish ideas of a very different kind. We place the frugality in the designs of nature, and her grandeur in the execution. We imagine her forming a contracted plan, and executing it with ten times the labour that is requisite: what can be so ridiculous? I hope, she replied, that the system you are going to explain will strictly imitate nature; the simplicity you so admire will spare me a great deal of trouble in comprehending your instructions. Your hope will be realized, said I, we have now no useless incumbrances. At the appearance of a certain German named Copernicus,9 astronomy became simplified; he destroyed all the unnecessary circles, and crushed to pieces the crystalline firmaments.10 Animated with philosophic enthusiasm, he dislodged the earth from the central situation which had been assigned it, and in its room placed the sun, who was more worthy of such a mark of distinction. The planets were no longer supposed to perform their revolutions round the earth, and enclose it in the centre of their orbits. If they afford us light it is as it were by chance, and in consequence of passing us in their course. They all turn around the sun; the earth itself not excepted; and as a punishment for the indolent repose it had been thought to enjoy, Copernicus made it take an ample share of the general activity: in short of all these celestial attendants, appointed for the service of our little globe, the moon alone is left to move round it. Stop a moment, said the Marchioness, your imagination is so elevated with your subject, you have explained it in such pompous language, that I believe I have scarcely understood you. The sun, you say, is immoveable in the centre of the universe; which of the planets is next in succession? ’Tis Mercury, I replied. Mercury goes regularly round the Sun in nearly a circular orbit, of which that luminary is the central point. Next to Mercury is Venus, which turns in the same manner round the Sun. Afterwards comes the Earth, and being higher than Mercury and Venus, describes a larger circle round the Sun than either of those planets. Then follow Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, in the order I have named them; thus you see the circle of Saturn must be the most extensive of all; it likewise requires a longer time than the other planets to perform its revolution. But, exclaimed she, you have forgotten the moon. I shall recollect it presently, said I; the moon never abandons the earth, but is constantly going round it; but as the earth is continually moving onwards in a circle round the sun, the moon at once follows its motion, and revolves round it; this attendant planet, therefore only goes round the sun in consequence of invariably continuing near to the earth.
I understand you, said she, and I love the moon for remaining attached to us when we were forsaken by all the other planets. Confess that if your German could have alienated that too, he would have done it without regret; for one may see, in every part of his hypothesis, that he was but little inclined to favour the earth. He did well, I replied, to humble the vanity of men who chuse to claim the best situation in the universe; ’tis with pleasure I consider the world mixing in the crowd of planets. Pshaw! cried the Marchioness; do you think vanity can have any thing to do with a system of astronomy? Do you suppose I feel humbler for knowing that the earth goes round the sun? I assure you I esteem myself just as highly as I did before. Certainly, madam, I answered, men would be less concerned about the rank they held in the universe than that they enjoyed amongst their associates; neither would the disputes of two planets, for precedence, be so important in their judgement as those of two ambassadors. Nevertheless, the same disposition which induces a man of the world to aspire after the most honourable place in a room, will make a philosopher desirous of placing the globe on which he lives in the most distinguished situation in the universe. He likes to consider every thing made for his use; he encourages, without being aware of his vanity, so flattering an opinion, and his heart becomes deeply engaged about an affair of mere speculation. Upon my word, she exclaimed, you are calumniating human nature—how happened it that the opinions of Copernicus were received, since they are so very humiliating? Copernicus, answered I, was himself very doubtful of the reception they would meet with: it was a long while before he could resolve to publish his system; at last, however, he yielded to the entreaty of several distinguished characters; but what do you think was the consequence?—on the day they took him the first printed copy of his book, he died: so he made use of the shortest way to escape from all the contradictions he had been anticipating.
Listen to me, said the Marchioness: let us be just to every body: it certainly is difficult to imagine we turn round the sun, for we never change places; we rise in the morning where we went to rest at night——I see from your look that you are going to tell me, that as the earth moves altogether——. Assuredly, said I, it is the same thing as going to sleep in a boat which was sailing down a river; on waking, you would find yourself in the same boat, and in the same part of the boat. Yes, replied she, but here is a difference; when I awoke I should find an alteration in the shore, and that would prove that the boat had changed its place: it is not so with respect to the earth, I there find every thing as I left it. No, no, madam, you may observe an alteration in the shore, as you do in the boat: you will recollect that beyond all the planets are the fixed stars, these are what we must consider the objects on the shore. I am on the earth; the earth describes a large circle round the sun; when I look to the middle of this circle I find the sun, and were not its brightness so dazzling as to render the stars invisible, I should constantly see, by looking beyond the centre, some of the fixed stars opposite to the sun; by viewing them however at night, I can easily determine how they were situated in the day, which renders my observations equally accurate. If the earth remained in the same place I should always find the same fixed stars answering to the situation of the sun, but as the earth moves on in her orbit, I necessarily see other fixed stars at the point which I had before examined. Such is our shore, which is every day varying; and as the earth goes round the sun in a year, I observe the sun, during that space of time, successively answering to different fixed stars which compose a circle; this circle is called the Zodiac; shall I shew it you by tracing a figure on the earth? No, said she, I can dispense with that; it would give my park too learned an appearance. I think I have heard that a philosopher, shipwrecked on an island with which he was unacquainted, cried out to his companions on perceiving some lines and circles drawn on the sand; courage, my friends! the island is inhabited; here are the footsteps of men. You must consider that such footsteps ought not to be seen here.
It would certainly, I replied be more in character, to trace only the footsteps of lovers; that is to say, your name, engraved by your adorers on the bark of every tree. No more of adorers, cried she; let us talk of the sun. I understand perfectly why we imagined it performing the revolution which is merely effected by our own motion, but this circle requires a year; how, then, does the sun appear to go round us every day? You undoubtedly know, I replied, that if a ball were rolled along this walk it would have two sorts of motion; it would go towards the end of the walk, and at the same time turn several times on its own axis, so that the side of the ball which is at first uppermost will presently descend, and the other, of course, rise to the top. This is the case with the earth: whilst she is proceeding, through the year, in her orbit round the sun, she turns on her own axis every twenty-four hours: each part, therefore, of the earth loses, and recovers sight of the sun during that time. When in the morning we turn towards the sun, it seems to rise; and when, by continued rotation, we again are more distant from it, it appears to descend. That’s curious enough, said she; the earth undertakes every thing, and the sun does nothing at all: and when the moon, the other planets, and the fixed stars appear to pass over us in four-and-twenty hours, it is merely imagination. Exactly so, I replied, and produced by the same cause. The planets perform their revolutions round the sun in unequal periods of time, in consequence of their different distances from it; and one which we see to day answer to a certain point in the zodiac, or circle of fixed stars, will to-morrow at the same hour answer to some other point: this is the effect both of the progress which the planet has made in its orbit and of that which we have made in ours. We move onward; the other planets do the same, but we do not continue all in a line: this occasions us to see them in such different situations, and renders their course apparently irregular. You now understand that such irregularity depends only on the different points from which we view them, and that, in reality all their movements are directed by the most exact order. It may be so, answered the Marchioness; but I should be glad if their order did not cost the earth so much: you seem to have very little consideration for it, and to require an astonishing agility in so large a body. But, said I, do you think it more reasonable for the sun, and all the other heavenly bodies, which are extremely large, to perform in four-and-twenty hours an immense journey round the earth? That the fixed stars, being in the largest circle, should travel, in the course of a day, more than twenty-seven thousand six hundred and sixty times two hundred millions of leagues?11 All this must be if the earth does not turn on her axis every twenty-four hours. Surely there is much more rationality in supposing our globe to turn, which would give to each part but a journey of nine thousand leagues. Consider what a trifle are nine thousand in comparison of the terrific number I have just mentioned.
Oh! replied the Marchioness; the sun and stars are made of fire, a swift motion is nothing to them, but the earth does not seem formed for motion. And should you think, I answered, if experience had not proved the fact, that a large ship, carrying a hundred and fifty pieces of cannon, three thousand men, and a heavy freight of merchandize, could be formed for motion?—Yet a gentle breeze is sufficient to move it forwards, because the water, being liquid, and easily divided, makes a very slight resistance to the progress of the ship, or if it be in the middle of a river, it follows without difficulty the current of the water, since there is then no impediment. In like manner the earth, notwithstanding its weight, is with facility carried through the sky which is infinitely more fluid than water, and which fills the immense space occupied by all the planets. To what could the earth be fastened so strongly as to resist the current of this celestial fluid and remain motionless? We might as well imagine a little wooden ball could resist the tide of a river.
But, said she, how can a body so ponderous as the earth be suspended in your celestial fluid, which from its great fluidity must be extremely light? It does not follow, I replied, that a substance must be extremely light because it is fluid. What do you think of the great ship we have been talking of, which, with all its lading, is lighter than the water that supports it? I won’t have any more to say to you, answered she, half angrily, if you mention your ship again.12 But tell me, is it not dangerous to inhabit such a whirli-gig as you represent the earth? If you are afraid, said I, let us have the world supported by four elephants, as the Indians do. Well! cried she, here is a new system. I like those people for providing such good foundations for the earth to rest on, whilst we Copernicans are imprudent enough to swim at random in this celestial fluid. I dare say if the Indians knew there was the least danger of the earth’s being moved, they would double the number of elephants.
It would be worth while, I replied, laughing at the thought, we must not be sparing of elephants if they can enable us to sleep in peace; if you would find them serviceable to-night we’ll put as many as you please, and then remove them one or two at a time as you find your courage return. No, said she, I don’t think there is any need for them, and to speak seriously, I feel courageous enough to let the world turn round. And I can venture to predict, answered I, that in a little while its turning will give you pleasure; will even inspire the most delightful ideas, I sometimes imagine myself raised above the surface of the earth, and remaining motionless whilst its daily rotation continues. All the different inhabitants pass in review; some fair, some copper-coloured, some black. Now I see heads covered with hats; then with turbans; some shaven, others with flowing hair. As the towns pass before me, I observe some have steeples, some long spires with crosses on them, others are ornamented with towers of porcelaine. Then I behold large countries with no other buildings than little huts: afterwards, immense seas; then frightful deserts; and in short, all the boundless variety which is to be found on the face of the earth.
Really, she replied, it would be worth while to devote four-and-twenty hours to such a sight. If I understand you, when we move, other countries with their inhabitants pass into the situation we are leaving, and so on, till in four-and-twenty hours we again arrive at the same place.
Copernicus himself, said I, could not have comprehended it more clearly. The first that would succeed us13 would be the English: we should probably find them arguing on some political topic with less gaiety than we are discussing our philosophy. When we had dismissed them we should discover a vast sea,14 on which perhaps would be some vessel, less at her ease than we. Then come the Iroquois, eating one of their prisoners of war, who does not even utter a groan though still alive when they begin to devour him.15 After them the women of Jesso, who employ all their time in preparing victuals for their husbands, and painting their lips and eye-brows blue to appear handsome in the eyes of the most disgusting men in the world. Then the Tartars, very devoutly going on a pilgrimage to their high priest, who dwells in an obscure recess, enlightened only by lamps, the rays of which direct these votaries to the object of their adoration. Afterwards the beautiful Circassians who make no ceremony of granting all their favours to the first that solicits them, except what they believe the essential prerogative of their husbands. Then the inhabitants of Little Tartary, who go to steal women for the Turks and Persians. Last of all our countrymen, whom we should find entertaining each other with the vagaries of their imagination.
It is amusing enough, said the Marchioness, to fancy oneself in a situation to see all these things: but if I were taking the view I should wish for the power of hastening or retarding the earth’s motion, according to the feelings with which each object inspired me: I assure you I should soon push on those that argued on politics, and the others that devoured their enemies; but there are some of the people you have been speaking of that would excite my curiosity; the handsome Circassians, for instance, whose customs are so peculiar. But a serious difficulty occurs to me respecting your system. If the earth turns, we every moment change our atmosphere, and respire that of a new climate. By no means, madam, I replied; the air which surrounds the earth rises only to a certain height, twenty leagues perhaps at farthest;16 this atmosphere always turns with us. You have doubtless observed the sort of shell in which a silk-worm imprisons itself, and which it forms with such astonishing art. It is composed of silk closely woven, but covered with a light down. Thus it is with regard to the earth, it is a solid body covered with an atmosphere extending to a certain height, which adheres to, and moves with it, as the down does with the firmer substance beneath it. Above our atmosphere is the celestial matter, incomparably more pure, subtile and active than air.
You represent the earth in a very contemptible light, said the Marchioness. Nevertheless on this silk-worm’s shell we find stupendous works, furious wars, and universal agitation. Yes, answered I, and while all this is going on, nature, who does not concern herself about such frivolous things, carries us all along, with an uninterrupted motion, and amuses herself with the little ball.
It appears very ridiculous, replied she, to give way to so much anxiety, whilst one is living on a thing that is perpetually turning; but unfortunately we are not assured that it does turn, for, to tell you the truth, all the precautions you take to convince me that we should not feel its motion are unsatisfactory. How could it avoid giving some indication by which we should be sensible of it?17 The most common and natural motions, said I, are the least felt: this observation is true even in a moral sense: the motions of self-love are so frequent in our minds, that for the most part we are not sensible of them, but believe ourselves actuated by other principles. Ah! you are beginning to moralize, said she; moralizing and explaining natural philosophy are a little different; I fancy you grow tired of your subject: let us return home, we have had enough for the first lecture. To-morrow we will come here again—you with your systems, and I with my ignorance.
In our way to the house, to give her a complete history of systems, I told her that a third had been invented by Ticho Brahe, who, from a determination to keep the earth in a state of rest, placed her in the centre of the universe, making the sun revolve round her, and the planets round the sun; for in consequence of some discoveries which had been lately made, he found it impossible to make the planets go round the earth. The Marchioness, with her usual discernment, concluded that it was mere whim to exempt the earth from moving round the sun, when so many other larger bodies were allowed to perform the revolution; that the sun was rendered more unfit for turning round the earth when incumbered with the other planets, and in short that this system was only calculated to support a prejudice in favour of the earth’s immobility,18 without offering any thing to convince the judgment; we therefore resolved to retain that of Copernicus, which is more uniform and pleasing, and at the same time unmixed with prejudice. In fact its simplicity convinces, whilst its boldness excites admiration.
Notes
5 This first book has been translated into a variety of languages; it is the best eclogue that has been composed in the last fifty years: the descriptions and imagery it contains are perfectly suited to the style of pastoral poetry; indeed many of the images would not have disgraced the pen of a Virgil.
Dubos. Reflections on Poetry and Painting.
6 In 1781, M. Herschel discovered a sixth. Astronomy by Lalande, third edition, 1792, Vol. 1, Art. 116.
7 Perhaps in Ethiopia. Astronomy, Art. 260.
8 Alphonsus, king of Castile died in 1284.
9 He was born in 1472, at Thorn, in Prussia Royal: he died in 1543.
10 Several of the ancients were of opinion that we should admit the motion of the earth. Astron. Art. 1075.
11 According to later calculations, it would be a thousand millions of times a million of leagues; but a person who did not believe the motion of the earth would have no occasion to admit this prodigious distance.
12 The Marchioness was in the right not to listen to such an answer. It is absurd to pretend that the ætherial fluid, so light and rare, can be capable of bearing along those enormous masses, the planets.
13 To speak more properly they would be one hundred leagues northward.
14 The Atlantic.
15 We should next see the Pacific Ocean.
16 Even at two leagues it is no longer discernible.
17 There are several; one of them is the aberration of the stars. Astron. Book xvii.
18 The ridiculous system of Ticho was invented out of respect to the holy scriptures, not considering that their object was more important than the refutation of popular errors on natural philosophy.