Anonymous Review of A Voyage to the Moon
Reprinted from the American Quarterly Review No. 5 (March 1828), 61-88.
ART. III.—A Voyage to the Moon: with some account of the Manners
and Customs, Science and Philosophy, of the People of Morosofia and
other Lunarians: By JOSEPH ATTERLEY. New-York: Elam Bliss, 1827.
12mo. pp. 264.
It is somewhat remarkable, that perhaps the only "Voyages to
the Moon," which have been published in the English tongue, should
have been the productions of English bishops:—the first forming a
tract, re-published in the Harleian Miscellany, and said to have been
written by Dr. Francis Goodwin, Bishop of Landaff, (who died in 1633,)
and entitled "The Man in the Moon, or the discourse of a voyage
thither, by Domingo Gonsales,"—and the second written in 1638, by
Dr. John Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, under the title of "The
Discovery of a New World, or a Discourse tending to prove, that 'tis
probable there may be another habitable world in the Moon, with a
discourse concerning the possibility of a passage thither." These
two works differ in several essential particulars:—in Dr. Goodwin's,
we have men of enormous stature and prodigious longevity, with a
flying chariot, and some other slight points of resemblance to the
Travels of Gulliver:—whilst Bishop Wilkins's is intended honestly and
scientifically to prove, "that it is possible for some of our
posterity to find out a conveyance to this other world; and, if there
be inhabitants there, (which the Bishop, satisfactorily to himself,
settles,) to have commerce with them!" From the first of these, Swift
has derived many hints in his voyage to Laputa, and improved them into
those humorous and instructive allusions, which have caused the
reputation of the author of the "Travels of Gulliver" to be
extended to every portion of the civilized globe. Since the appearance
of this celebrated satire, no one sufficiently comprehensive to lash
the follies of the age—the quicquid agunt homines—has made
its appearance: we have had numerous ephemeral productions, inflicting
severe castigations upon particular vices or absurdities; but the
visionary conceits of the many, constantly promulgated in the
progressive advancement of human knowledge, although legitimate
objects of censure, have not, since the time of Swift, been embodied
into one publication.
The evident aim of the author of the Satirical Romance before us, is
to fulfil for the present age, what Swift so successfully
accomplished for that which has passed by:—to attack, by the weapons
of ridicule, those votaries of knowledge, who may have sought to avail
themselves of the universal love of novelty amongst mankind, to acquire
celebrity; or who may have been misled by their own ill-regulated
imaginations, to obtrude upon the world their crude and imperfect
theories and systems, to the manifest retardation of knowledge:—an
effect, too, liable to be induced in a direct ratio with the degree
of talent and ingenuity by which their views may have been supported.
Several of these may always be more successfully attacked by ridicule
than by reason; inasmuch as they are, in this way, more likely to become
the subjects of popular animadversion; and many, who could withstand
the serious arguments of their fraternity, cannot placidly endure their
ridicule. Satire has, indeed, often done more service to the cause of
religion and morality than a sermon, since the remedy is agreeable,
whilst it at the same time communicates indignation or fear:—
"Of all the ways that wisest men could find,
To mend the age and mortify mankind,
Satire, well writ, has most successful prov'd.
And cures, because the remedy is lov'd."
To produce, however, the full effect, satire must possess a certain
degree of impartiality, and be levelled in all instances at the vices
or follies, and not at the man. The first sketch of Gulliver's Travels
occurs in the proposed Travels of Martinus Scriblerus, devised in that
pleasing society where most of Swift's miscellanies were planned. Had
the work, however, been executed under the same auspices, it would
probably, as Sir Walter Scott has suggested,[1] "have been occupied by
that personal satire, upon obscure and unworthy contemporaries, to
which Pope was but too much addicted. But when the Dean mused in
solitude over the execution of his plan, it assumed at once a more
grand and a darker complexion. The spirit of indignant hatred and
contempt with which he regarded the mass of humanity; his quiet and
powerful perception of their failings, errors, and crimes; his zeal
for liberty and freedom of thought, tended at once to generalize,
while it embittered, his satire, and to change traits of personal
severity for that deep shade of censure which Gulliver's Travels throw
upon mankind universally." Most of the sentiments which impressed
Swift, seem also to have been felt by the unknown author of the work
before us: it is not, however, free from personal allusions; but they
are all conveyed in so good natured a manner, as to satisfy the reader
that the author has been solicitous to animadvert only on the vices of
the individual; and in no part of the work is there the slightest
evidence of prejudice or venom.
The pseudo Joseph Atterley, the hero of the narrative, was born
in Huntingdon, Long-Island, on the 11th of May, 1786. He was the son
of a seafaring individual, who, by means of the portion he received by
his wife, together with his own earnings, was enabled to quit that
laborious occupation, and to enter into trade; and, after the death of
his father-in-law, by whose will he received a handsome accession to
his property, he sought, in the city of New-York, a theatre better
adapted to his enlarged capital. "He here engaged in foreign trade,
and partaking of the prosperity which then attended American commerce,
gradually extended his business, and finally embarked in the then new
branch of traffic to the East Indies and China; he was now generally
respected both for his wealth and fair dealing; was several years a
director in one of the insurance offices; was president of the society
for relieving the widows and orphans of distressed seamen; and, it is
said, might have been chosen alderman, if he had not refused, on the
ground that he did not think himself qualified."
Our hero was, at an early age, put to a grammar school of good repute,
in his native village, and, at seventeen, was sent to Princeton, to
prepare himself for some profession; during his third year at that
place, in one of his excursions to Philadelphia, he became enamoured
"with one of those faces and forms, which, in a youth of twenty, to
see, admire, and love, is one and the same thing;" and was united to
the object of his affections, on the anniversary of his twenty-first
year. This event gave him a distaste for serious study; and, long
before this, he had felt a sentiment, bordering on contempt, for
mercantile pursuits; he therefore prevailed upon his father to
purchase him a neat country seat in the vicinity of Huntingdon. Here,
seventeen happy years glided away swiftly and imperceptibly, when
death, by depriving him of the partner of his felicity, prostrated all
his hopes and enjoyments. For the purpose of seeking for that relief
to the feelings, which variety can best afford, he now determined to
make a voyage; and, as one of his father's vessels was about to sail
for Canton, embarked on board of her, and left Sandyhook on the 5th
day of June, 1822. From this period, until the 24th of October, their
voyage was comparatively agreeable; but when off the mouths of the
Ganges, one of those hurricanes, well known to the experienced
navigators of the eastern seas, struck the ship, and rendered her so
leaky, that the captain considered it advisable to make for the
nearest port; the leak, however, increasing rapidly, and finding
themselves off a coast, which the captain, by his charts, pronounced
to be a part of the Burman empire, and in the neighbourhood of Mergui,
on the Martaban coast, they hastily threw their clothes, papers, and
eight casks of silver, into the long-boat; and, before they were fifty
yards from the ship, had the melancholy satisfaction to see her go
down.
"It was a little after mid-day when we reached the town, which is
perched on a high bluff, overlooking the coasts, and contains about a
thousand houses, built of bamboo, and covered with palm leaves. Our
dress, appearance, language, and the manner of our arrival, excited
great surprise among the natives, and the liveliest curiosity; but
with these sentiments some evidently mingled no very friendly
feelings. The Burmese were then on the eve of a rupture with the East
India Company, a fact which we had not before known; and mistaking us
for English, they supposed, or affected to suppose, that we belonged
to a fleet which was about to invade them, and that our ship had been
sunk before their eyes, by the tutelar divinity of the country. We
were immediately carried before their governor, or chief magistrate,
who ordered our baggage to be searched, and finding that it consisted
principally of silver, he had no doubt of our hostile intentions. He
therefore sent all of us, twenty-two in number, to prison, separating,
however, each one from the rest. My companions were released the
following spring, as I have since learnt, by the invading army of
Great Britain; but it was my ill fortune (if, indeed, after what has
since happened, I can so regard it) to be taken for an officer of high
rank, and to be sent, the third day afterwards, far into the interior,
that I might be more safely kept, and either used as a hostage or
offered for ransom, as circumstances should render advantageous."
Our hero was transported very rapidly in a palanquin, for thirteen
successive days, when he reached Mozaun, a small village delightfully
situated in the mountainous district between the Irawaddi and Saloon
rivers, where he was placed under the care of an inferior magistrate,
who there exercised the chief authority. By submissive and respectful
behaviour, he succeeded in ingratiating himself so completely with his
keeper, that he was regarded more as one of his family, than as a
prisoner; and was allowed every indulgence, consistently with his safe
custody. It had been one of his favourite recreations, to ascend a
part of the western ridge of mountains, which rose in a cone, about a
mile and a half from the village, for the purpose of enjoying the
enchanting scenery that lay before him, and the evening breeze, which
possesses so delicious a degree of freshness in tropical climates.
Here he became acquainted with a personage, of whom, as he exerted an
important influence over the future conduct of our hero, it is of
consequence that the reader should acquire early information:—
"In a deep sequestered nook, formed by two spurs of this mountain,
there lived a venerable Hindoo, whom the people of the village called
the Holy Hermit. The favourable accounts I received of his character,
as well as his odd course of life, made me very desirous of becoming
acquainted with him; and, as he was often visited by the villagers, I
found no difficulty in getting a conductor to his cell. His character
for sanctity, together with a venerable beard, might have discouraged
advances towards an acquaintance, if his lively piercing eye, a
countenance expressive of great mildness and kindness of disposition,
and his courteous manners, had not yet more strongly invited it. He
was indeed not averse to society, though he had seemed thus to fly
from it; and was so great a favourite with his neighbours, that his
cell would have been thronged with visiters, but for the difficulty of
the approach to it. As it was, it was seldom resorted to, except for
the purpose of obtaining his opinion and counsel on all the serious
concerns of his neighbours. He prescribed for the sick, and often
provided the medicine they required—expounded the law—adjusted
disputes—made all their little arithmetical calculations—gave them
moral instruction—and, when he could not afford them relief in their
difficulties, he taught them patience, and gave them consolation. He,
in short, united, for the simple people by whom he was surrounded, the
functions of lawyer, physician, schoolmaster, and divine, and richly
merited the reverential respect in which they held him, as well as
their little presents of eggs, fruit, and garden stuff.
"From the first evening that I joined the party which I saw clambering
up the path that led to the Hermit's cell, I found myself strongly
attached to this venerable man, and the more so, from the mystery
which hung around his history. It was agreed that he was not a
Burmese. None deemed to know certainly where he was born, or why he
came thither. His own account was, that he had devoted himself to the
service of God, and in his pilgrimage over the east, had selected this
as a spot particularly favourable to the life of quiet and seclusion
he wished to lead.
"There was one part of his story to which I could scarcely give
credit. It was said that in the twelve or fifteen years he had resided
in this place, he had been occasionally invisible for months together,
and no one could tell why he disappeared, or whither he had gone. At
these times his cell was closed; and although none ventured to force
their way into it, those who were the most prying could hear no sound
indicating that he was within. Various were the conjectures formed on
the subject. Some supposed that he withdrew from the sight of men for
the purpose of more fervent prayer and more holy meditation; others,
that he visited his home, or some other distant country. The more
superstitious believed that he had, by a kind of metempsychosis, taken
a new shape, which, by some magical or supernatural power, he could
assume and put off at pleasure This opinion was perhaps the most
prevalent, as it gained a colour with these simple people, from the
chemical and astronomical instruments he possessed In these he
evidently took great pleasure, and by then means he acquired some of
the knowledge by which he so often excited their admiration.
"He soon distinguished me from the rest of his visiters, by addressing
questions to me relative to my history and adventures, and I, in turn,
was gratified to have met with one who took an interest in my
concerns, and who alone, of all I had here met with, could either
enter into my feelings or comprehend my opinions. Our conversations
were earned on in English, which he spoke with facility and
correctness We soon found ourselves so much to each other's taste,
that there was seldom an evening that I did not make him a visit, and
pass an hour or two in his company
"I learned from him that he was born and bred at Benares, in
Hindostan, that he had been intended for the priesthood, and had been
well instructed in the literature of the east That a course of
untoward circumstances, upon which he seemed unwilling to dwell, had
changed his destination, and made him a wanderer on the face of the
earth That in the neighbouring kingdom of Siam he had formed an
intimacy with a learned French Jesuit, who had not only taught him his
language, but imparted to him a knowledge of much of the science of
Europe, its institutions and manners That after the death of this
friend, he had renewed his wanderings, and having been detained in
this village by a fit of sickness for some weeks, he was warned that
it was time to quit his rambling life. This place being recommended to
him, both by its quiet seclusion, and the unsophisticated manners of
its inhabitants, he determined to pass the remnant of his days here,
and, by devoting them to the purposes of piety, charity, and science,
to discharge his duty to his Creator, his species, and himself, 'for
the love of knowledge,' he added, 'has long been my chief source of
selfish enjoyment'"
The acquaintance between Atterley and the Brahmin, ripened by degrees,
into that close friendship, which a congeniality of tastes and
sentiments, under proper opportunities, never fails to engender.
Atterley's visits to the hermitage, became more and more frequent, for
upwards of three years, during which period, the Brahmin had
occasionally thrown out obscure hints, that the time would come, when
our hero should be restored to liberty, and that he had an important
secret which he would one day communicate. About this period, one
afternoon in the month of March, when Atterley repaired, as usual, to
the hermitage, he found the Brahmin dangerously ill of a pleuritic
affection, and apprehensive that the attack might prove fatal—
"Sit down," said he, "on that block, and listen to what I shall say to
you Though I shall quit this state of being for another and a better,
I confess that I was alarmed at the thought of expiring, before I had
an opportunity of seeing and conversing with you I am the depository
of a secret, that I believe is known to no other living mortal I once
determined that it should die with me, and had I not met with you, it
certainly should But from our first acquaintance, my heart has been
strongly attracted towards you, and as soon as I found you possessed
of qualities to inspire esteem as well as regard, I felt disposed to
give you this proof of my confidence Still I hesitated I first wished
to deliberate on the probable effects of my disclosure upon the
condition of society I saw that it might produce evil, as well as
good, but on weighing the two together, I have satisfied myself that
the good will preponderate, and have determined to act accordingly
Take this key, (stretching out his feverish hand,) and after waiting
two hours, in which time the medicine I have taken will have either
produced a good effect or put an end to my sufferings, you may then
open that blue chest in the corner It has a false bottom On removing
the paper which covers it, you will find the manuscript containing the
important secret, together with some gold pieces, which I have saved
for the day of need—because—(and he smiled in spite of his
sufferings)—because hoarding is one of the pleasures of old men. Take
them both, and use them discreetly."
Atterley quitted the cell, and waited with feverish expectation for
the termination of the allotted two hours, when, to his inexpressible
delight, he found, on re-entering the cell, that not only did the
Brahmin breathe, but that he slept soundly; and, in the course of an
hour, he awoke, almost restored to health. This event, however, was
the occasion of a more early disclosure of the Brahmin's important
secret, but not until he had recovered his ordinary health and
vigour:—
"I have already told you, my dear Atterley, that I was born and
educated at Benares, and that science is there more thoroughly
understood and taught than the people of the west are aware of. We
have, for many thousands of years, been good astronomers, chymists,
mathematicians, and philosophers. We had discovered the secret of
gunpowder, the magnetic attraction, the properties of electricity,
long before they were heard of in Europe. We know more than we have
revealed, and much of our knowledge is deposited in the archives of
the castle to which I belong, but, for want of language generally
understood and easily learnt, (for these records are always written in
the Sanscrit, that is no longer a spoken language,) and the diffusion
which is given by the art of printing, these secrets of science are
communicated only to a few, and sometimes even sleep with their
authors, until a subsequent discovery, under more favourable
circumstances, brings them again to light.
"It was at this seat of science that I learned, from one of our sages,
the physical truth which I am now about to communicate, and which he
discovered, partly by his researches into the writings of ancient
Pundits, and partly by his own extraordinary sagacity. There is a
principle of repulsion as well as gravitation in the earth. It causes
fire to rise upwards. It is exhibited in electricity. It occasions
water-spouts, volcanoes, and earthquakes. After much labour and
research, this principle has been found embodied in a metallic
substance, which is met with in the mountain in which we are, united
with a very heavy earth, and this circumstance had great influence in
inducing me to settle myself here.
"This metal, when separated and purified, has as great a tendency to
fly off from the earth, as a piece of gold or lead has to approach it.
After making a number of curious experiments with it, we bethought
ourselves of putting it to some use, and soon contrived, with the aid
of it, to make cars and ascend into the air. We were very secret in
these operations, for our unhappy country having then recently fallen
under the subjection of the British nation, we apprehended that if we
divulged our arcanum, they would not only fly away with all our
treasures, whether found in palace or pagoda, but also carry off the
inhabitants, to make them slaves in their colonies, as their
government had not then abolished the African slave trade.
"After various trials and many successive improvements, in which our
desires increased with our success, we determined to penetrate the
aerial void as far as we could, providing for that purpose an
apparatus, with which you will become better acquainted hereafter. In
the course of our experiments, we discovered that this same metal,
which was repelled from the earth, was in the same degree attracted
towards the moon, for in one of our excursions, still aiming to ascend
higher than we had ever done before, we were actually carried to that
satellite, and if we had not there fallen into a lake, and our machine
had not been water-tight, we must have been dashed to pieces or
drowned. You will find in this book," he added, presenting me with a
small volume, bound in green parchment, and fastened with silver
clasps, "a minute detail of the apparatus to be provided, and the
directions to be pursued in making this wonderful voyage. I have
written it since I satisfied my mind that my fears of British rapacity
were unfounded, and that I should do more good than harm by publishing
the secret. But still I am not sure," he added, with one of his faint
but significant smiles, "that I am not actuated by a wish to
immortalize my name; for where is the mortal who would be indifferent
to this object, if he thought he could attain it? Read the book at
your leisure, and study it."
Here, by the way, we may remark, that the kind of vehicle best adapted
for conveyance through the aerial void, has been a weighty stumbling
block to authors, from the time of the eagle-mounted Ganymede, to that
of Daniel O'Rourke; or of the wing furnished Daedalus and Icarus, to
that of the flying Turk in Constantinople, referred to by Busbequius;
or of the flying artist of the happy valley, in Rasselas. When
Trygaeus was desirous of reaching the Gods, he erected, we are told, a
series of small ladders—[Greek: epeita lepta klimakia]—but receiving
a severe contusion on the head, from their downfall, he ingeniously
had recourse to a scheme of flying through the air, on a colossal
variety of those industrious but not over-delicate insects, the
Scarabaeus Carnifex—the only insect, notwithstanding, according
to Aesop, privileged to ascend to the habitations of the gods—
[Greek: monos peteinoon eis theous aphigmenos.[2]]
Most of the stories of Pegasi and Hippogriffs, and of flying chariots,
from that of Phaeton downwards to Astolfo's,[3] were evidently
intended by their authors as mythical; not so, however, with Bishop
Wilkins;—he boldly avers, for several reasons which he keeps to
himself, and for others not very comprehensible to us, which he
details "seriously and on good grounds," "that it is possible to make
a flying chariot, in which a man may sit, and give such a motion unto
it, as shall convey him through the air; and this perhaps might be
made large enough to carry divers men at the same time, together with
food for their viaticum, and commodities for traffic." "It is
not," lucidly continues the Bishop, "the bigness of any thing in this
kind, that can hinder its motion, if the motive faculty be answerable
thereunto. We see a great ship swims as well as a small cork; and an
eagle flies in the air, as well as a little gnat. This engine may be
contrived from the same principles by which Archytas made a wooden
dove, and Regiomontanus a wooden eagle. I conceive it were no
difficult matter, (if a man had leisure,) to show more particularly
the means of composing it"!—which want of leisure in the credulous
Bishop, our readers will regret with us, especially those inventive
geniuses, who, like the projector in the reign of George I., published
a scheme for manufacturing pine plank from pine saw-dust, or the still
more ingenious undertaker of later times, who proposed to make pine
plank out of oak saw-dust, by the mere addition of a little
turpentine!
Again, Swift's flying Island of Laputa is a phenomenon so opposed to
all scientific probability, and so directly at variance with natural
laws, that it loses in interest in a direct ratio with the violence it
does to our feelings. Nor is the mode of conveyance imagined by
Voltaire less incongruous than that of Swift. When Micromegas, ah
inhabitant of Sirius, whose adventures were evidently suggested by
those of Gulliver, accompanied by an inhabitant of Saturn, leaves the
latter planet, they are, in the first place, made to leap upon the
Ring of Saturn, which they find tolerably flat, "comme l'a fort bien
deviné un illustre habitant de notre petit globe:" thence they go from
moon to moon, and a comet passing close to one of these, they throw
themselves upon it, with their attendants and instruments. In their
course, they fall in with the satellites of Jupiter, and pass on to
Jupiter itself, where they remain for a year; but what becomes of the
comet in the mean time, we are not informed! Leaving Jupiter, they
"coast" along the planet Mars, and finally reach the earth, where they
resolve to disembark. Accordingly "ils passèrent sur la queue de la
comète; et trouvant une aurore boréale toute prête, ils se mirent
dedans, et arrivèrent à terre sur le bord septentrional de la Mer
Baltique"![4]
The vehicle, however, has not formed the sole obstacle to those
projectors:—the viaticum, especially the food, has been a
difficulty not readily got over. Before Bishop Wilkins alludes to his
flying chariot, he remarks, that even if men could fly, the swiftest
of them would probably be half a year in reaching the end of his
journey; and hence a problem would arise, "how it were possible to
tarry so long without sleep or diet?" Of the former obstacle, however,
he quickly disposes,—"seeing we do not then spend ourselves in any
labour, we shall not, it may be, need the refreshment of sleep:
but if we do, we cannot desire a softer bed than the air, where we may
repose ourselves firmly and safely as in our chambers"! Of the latter
he finds somewhat more difficulty in disposing,—"and here it is
considerable, that, since our bodies will then be devoid of gravity
and other impediments of motion, we shall not at all spend ourselves
in any labour, and so, consequently, not much need the reparation of
diet, but may perhaps live altogether without it, as those creatures
have done, who, by reason of their sleeping for many days together,
have not spent any spirits, and so not wanted any food; which is
commonly related of serpents, crocodiles, bears, cuckoos, swallows,
and such like. To this purpose, Mendoca reckons up divers strange
relations, as that of Epimenides, who is storied to have slept
seventy-five years; and another of a rustic in Germany, who, being
accidentally covered with a hay-rick, slept there for all the autumn
and the winter following, without any nourishment Or, if we must needs
feed upon something else, why may not smells nourish us? Plutarch, and
Pliny, and divers other ancients, tell us of a nation in India, that
lived only upon pleasing odours; and it is the common opinion of
physicians, that these do strangely both strengthen and repair the
spirits. Hence was it that Democritus was able, for divers days
together, to feed himself with the mere smell of hot bread.[5] Or, if
it be necessary that our stomachs must receive the food, why then it
is not impossible that the purity of the etherial air, being not mixed
with any improper vapours, may be so agreeable to our bodies, as to
yield us sufficient nourishment," with many other arguments of the
like nature. The Bishop ultimately, however, severs the knot, by the
suggestion of his flying chariot, which he makes large enough (for,
ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute!) to carry not only food
for the viaticum of the passengers, but also commodities for
their traffic!
Infinitely more ingenuity did the great comic poet of antiquity
display, when he selected the Scarabaeus; as the food which had
already served the purposes of digestion with the Rider, was still
capable of affording nutrition to the animal:—
[Greek:
nun d'att'an autos kataphagoo ta sitia.
toutoisi tois autoisi touton chortasoo[6]]
Now all these schemes, ingenious as they may be, are objectionable for
the same reasons as the flying Island of Laputa—their glaring
violation of verisimilitude, and many of them of possibility. In these
respects, that of the author of the work before us is liable to less
objection: he only resorts to an extension of avowed physical
principles; and if we could suppose a substance, which, instead of
gravitating towards the earth, is repelled from it and attracted
towards the moon, (certainly a difficult "premier pas,") the
remainder of the machinery, for reaching that luminary, would not be
inconsistent with probability or the known laws of physics.
But, to return to the narrative:—The Brahmin having given Atterley a
description of some of the remarkable objects which he met with, in
his voyage to the moon; expressed his anxiety to repeat it, for the
purpose of ascertaining some facts about which he had been
speculating, as well as of removing the incredulity with which, he
could not but perceive, his story had impressed his hearer,
notwithstanding his belief in the Hermit's integrity; when Atterley
eagerly caught at the proposal. Their preparations, however, required
time as well as considerable skill, not only for the construction of
the vehicle, but also to avoid suspicion and interruption from the
Governor of Mergui,—and the priesthood, who possessed the usual
Oriental superstition and intolerance.
For the construction of their apparatus they had recourse to an
ingenious artificer in copper and other metals, whose child the
Brahmin had been instrumental in curing of a chronic disease, and in
whose fidelity as well as good will they could securely rely.
"The coppersmith agreed to undertake the work we wanted done, for a
moderate compensation, but we did not think it prudent to inform him
of our object, which he supposed was to make some philosophical
experiment. It was forthwith arranged that he should occasionally
visit the Hermit, to receive instructions, as if for the purpose of
asking medical advice. During this interval my mind was absorbed with
our project; and when in company, I was so thoughtful and abstracted,
that it has since seemed strange to me that Sing Fou's suspicions that
I was planning my escape were not more excited. At length, by dint of
great exertion, in about three months every thing was in readiness,
and we determined on the following night to set out on our perilous
expedition.
"The machine in which we proposed to embark, was a copper vessel, that
would have been an exact cube of six feet, if the corners and edges
had not been rounded off. It had an opening large enough to receive
our bodies, which was closed by double sliding pannels, with quilted
cloth between them. When these were properly adjusted, the machine was
perfectly air-tight, and strong enough, by means of iron bars running
alternately inside and out, to resist the pressure of the atmosphere,
when the machine should be exhausted of its air, as we took the
precaution to prove by the aid of an air pump. On the top of the
copper chest and on the outside, we had as much of the lunar metal
(which I shall henceforth call lunarium) as we found by
calculation and experiment, would overcome the weight of the machine,
as well as its contents, and take us to the moon on the third day. As
the air which the machine contained, would not be sufficient for our
respiration more than about six hours, and the chief part of the space
we were to pass through was a mere void, we provided ourselves with a
sufficient supply, by condensing it in a small globular vessel, made
partly of iron and partly of lunarium, to take off its weight. On my
return, I gave Mr. Jacob Perkins, who is now in England, a hint of
this plan of condensation, and it has there obtained him great
celebrity. This fact I should not have thought it worth while to
mention, had he not taken the sole merit of the invention to himself,
at least I cannot hear that in his numerous public notices he has ever
mentioned my name.
"But to return. A small circular window, made of a single piece of
thick clear glass, was neatly fitted on each of the six sides. Several
pieces of lead were securely fastened to screws which passed through
the bottom of the machine as well as a thick plank. The screws were so
contrived, that by turning them in one direction, the pieces of lead
attached to them were immediately disengaged from the hooks with which
they were connected. The pieces of lunarium were fastened in like
manner to screws, which passed through the top of the machine; so that
by turning them in one direction, those metallic pieces would fly into
the air with the velocity of a rocket. The Brahmin took with him a
thermometer, two telescopes, one of which projected through the top of
the machine, and the other through the bottom; a phosphoric lamp, pen,
ink, and paper, and some light refreshments sufficient to supply us
for some days.
"The moon was then in her third quarter, and near the zenith: it was,
of course, a little after midnight, and when the coppersmith and his
family were in their soundest sleep, that we entered the machine. In
about an hour more we had the doors secured, and every thing arranged
in its place, when, cutting the cords which fastened us to the ground,
by means of small steel blades which worked in the ends of other
screws, we rose from the earth with a whizzing sound, and a sensation
at first of very rapid ascent, but after a short time, we were
scarcely sensible of any motion in the machine, except when we changed
our places."
After the apprehensions of Atterley, occasioned by the novelty and
danger of his situation, had partly subsided, he was enabled, with
mingled awe and admiration, to contemplate the magnificent spectacle
beneath him. As the earth turned round its axis, during their ascent,
every part of its surface came successively under view. At nine
o'clock, the whole of India was to the west of them; its rivers
resembling small filaments of silver, and the Red Sea a narrow plate
of the same metal. The peninsula of India was of a dark, and Arabia of
a light, grayer green, and the sun's rays striking on the Atlantic,
emitted an effulgence dazzling to the eyes. On looking, some time
afterwards, through the telescope, they observed the African
Continent, at its northern edge; fringed, as it were, with green;
"then a dull white belt marked the great Sahara or Desert, and then it
exhibited a deep green to its most southern extremity." The Morea and
Grecian Archipelago now fell under their telescope, and gradually the
whole Mediterranean, and Arabian Gulf—the great media separating
Africa from Europe and Asia; "the political divisions of these
quarters of the world were of course undistinguishable, and few of the
natural were discernible by the naked eye. The Alps were marked by a
white streak, though less bright than the water." By the aid of the
glass they could just discern the Danube, the Nile, and "a river which
empties itself into the Gulf of Guinea," and which Atterley took to be
the Niger; but the other streams were not perceptible. The most
conspicuous object of the solid part of the globe was the great
Desert; the whole of Africa, however, appeared of a brighter hue than
either Asia or Europe.
"I was struck too, with the vast disproportion which the extent of the
several countries of the earth bore to the part they had acted in
history, and the influence they had exerted on human affairs. The
British islands had diminished to a speck, and France was little
larger, yet, a few years ago it seemed, at least to us in the United
States, as if there were no other nations on the earth. The Brahmin,
who was well read in European history, on my making a remark on this
subject, reminded me that Athens and Sparta had once obtained almost
equal celebrity, although they were so small as not now to be visible.
As I slowly passed the telescope over the face of Europe, I pictured
to myself the fat, plodding Hollander—the patient, contemplative
German—the ingenious, sensual Italian—the temperate Swiss—the
haughty, superstitious Spaniard—the sprightly, self-complacent
Frenchman—the sullen and reflecting Englishman—who monopolise nearly
all the science and literature of the earth, to which they bear so
small a proportion. As the Atlantic fell under our view, two faint
circles on each side of the equator, were to be perceived by the naked
eye. They were less bright than the rest of the ocean. The Brahmin
suggested that they might be currents; which brought to my memory Dr.
Franklin's conjecture on the subject, now completely verified by this
circular line of vapour, as it had been previously rendered probable
by the floating substances, which had been occasionally picked up, at
great distances from the places where they had been thrown into the
ocean. The circle was whiter and more distinct, where the Gulf Stream
runs parallel to the American coast, and gradually grew fainter as it
passed along the Banks of Newfoundland, to the coast of Europe, where,
taking a southerly direction, the line of the circle was barely
discernible. A similar circle of vapour, though less defined and
complete, was perceived in the South Atlantic Ocean."
By degrees the travellers saw one half of the broad expanse of the
Pacific, which glistened like quicksilver or polished steel, and
subsequently the middle of the Pacific lay immediately beneath them;
the irregular distribution of land and water on the globe, the expanse
of Ocean here, being twice as large as in any other part, gives
occasion to some amusing discussions on the various theories of
cosmogony, to which we can only refer the reader; wearied, however, by
these and other discussions, Atterley slept for six hours, and on
awaking, found the Brahmin busy in calculating their progress; after
which the latter lay down and soon fell into a tranquil sleep, having
previously requested that he might be awakened at the expiration of
three hours, or sooner if any thing of moment should occur. Atterley
now looked down again through the telescope, and found the earth
surprisingly diminished in its apparent dimensions, from the increased
rapidity of their ascent; the eastern coasts of Asia were still full
in view, as well as the whole figure of that extensive continent—of
New-Holland, of Ceylon and of Borneo; but the smaller islands were
invisible.
"I strained my eye to no purpose, to follow the indentations of the
coast, according to the map before me, the great bays and promontories
could alone be perceived. The Burman Empire, in one of the
insignificant villages of which I had been confined for a few years,
was now reduced to a speck. The agreeable hours I had passed with the
Brahmin, with the little daughter of Sing Fou, and my rambling over
the neighbouring heights, all recurred to my mind, and I almost
regretted the pleasures I had relinquished. I tried with more success
to beguile the time by making notes in my journal, and after having
devoted about an hour to this object, I returned to the telescope, and
now took occasion to examine the figure of the earth near the Poles,
with a view of discovering whether its form favoured Captain Symmes's
theory of an aperture existing there, and I am convinced that that
ingenious gentleman is mistaken. Time passed so heavily during these
solitary occupations, that I looked at my watch every five minutes,
and could scarcely be persuaded it was not out of order. I then took
up my little Bible, (which had always been my travelling companion,)
read a few chapters in St. Matthew, and found my feelings
tranquillized, and my courage increased. The desired hour at length
arrived; when, on waking the old man, he alertly raised himself up,
and at the first view of the diminished appearance of the earth,
observed that our journey was a third over, as to time, but not as to
distance."
After having again composed himself to rest for about four hours,
Atterley was awakened by the Brahmin, in whose arms he found himself,
and, on looking around, discovered that he was lying on what had been
the ceiling of the chamber, which still, however, felt like the
bottom. The reason of this phenomenon was thus explained to him by the
Brahmin—"we have, while you were asleep, passed the middle point
between the earth's and the moon's attraction; and we now gravitate
less towards our own planet than (to) her satellite. I took the
precaution to move you, before you fell by your own gravity, from what
was lately the bottom, to that which is now so, and to keep you in
this place until you were retained in it by the moon's attraction; for
though your fall would have been, at this point, like that of a
feather, yet it would have given you some shock and alarm. The
machine, therefore, has undergone no change in its position or
course;—the change is altogether in our feelings."
The whole face of the moon, Atterley now found to be entirely changed,
and on looking through the upper telescope, the earth presented an
appearance not very dissimilar; but the outline of her continents and
oceans was still perceptible in different shades, and capable of being
readily recognised; the bright glare of the sun, however, made the
surfaces of both bodies somewhat dim and pale.
"After a short interval, I again looked at the moon, and found not
only its magnitude very greatly increased, but that it was beginning
to present a more beautiful spectacle. The sun's rays fell obliquely
on her disc, so that by a large part of its surface not reflecting the
light, I saw every object on it, so far as I was enabled by the power
of my telescope. Its mountains, lakes, seas, continents, and islands,
were faintly, though not indistinctly, traced; and every moment
brought forth something new to catch my eye, and awaken my curiosity.
The whole face of the moon was of a silvery hue, relieved and varied
by the softest and most delicate shades. No cloud nor speck of vapour
intercepted my view. One of my exclamations of delight awakened the
Brahmin, who quickly arose, and looking down on the resplendent orb
below us, observed that we must soon begin to slacken the rapidity of
our course, by throwing out ballast. The moon's dimensions now rapidly
increased; the separate mountains, which formed the ridges and chains
on her surface, began to be plainly visible through the telescope;
whilst, on the shaded side, several volcanoes appeared upon her disc,
like the flashes of our fire-fly, or rather like the twinkling of
stars in a frosty night. He remarked, that the extraordinary clearness
and brightness of the objects on the moon's surface, was owing to her
having a less extensive and more transparent atmosphere than the
earth: adding—'The difference is so great, that some of our
astronomical observers have been induced to think she has none. If
that, however, had been the case, our voyage would have been
impracticable.'"
After gazing for some time on this magnificent spectacle, with
admiration and delight, one of their balls of lunarium was let
off for the purpose of checking their velocity. At this time the
Brahmin supposed they were not more than four thousand miles from the
nearest point of the moon's surface. In about four hours more, her
apparent magnitude was so great, that they could see her by looking
out of either of the side windows.
"Her disc had now lost its former silvery appearance, and began to
look more like that of the earth, when seen at the same distance. It
was a most gratifying spectacle to behold the objects successively
rising to our view, and steadily enlarging in their dimensions. The
rapidity with which we approached the moon, impressed me, in spite of
myself, with the alarming sensation of falling; and I found myself
alternately agitated with a sense of this danger, and with impatience
to take a nearer view of the new objects that greeted my eyes. The
Brahmin was wholly absorbed in calculations for the purpose of
adjusting our velocity to the distance we had to go, his estimates of
which, however, were in a great measure conjectural; and ever and anon
he would let off a ball of the lunar metal.
"After a few hours, we were so near the moon that every object was
seen in our glass, as distinctly as the shells or marine plants
through a piece of shallow sea-water, though the eye could take in but
a small part of her surface, and the horizon, which bounded our view,
was rapidly contracting. On letting the air escape from our machine,
it did not now rush out with the same violence as before, which showed
that we were within the moon's atmosphere. This, as well as ridding
ourselves of the metal balls, aided in checking our progress. By and
by we were within a few miles of the highest mountains, when we threw
down so much of our ballast, that we soon appeared almost stationary.
The Brahmin remarked, that he should avail himself of the currents of
air we might meet with, to select a favourable place for landing,
though we were necessarily attracted towards the same region, in
consequence of the same half of the moon's surface being always turned
towards the earth."
The Brahmin now pointed out the necessity of looking out for some
cultivated field, in one of the valleys they were approaching, where
they might rely on being not far distant from some human habitation,
and on escaping the perils necessarily attendant on a descent amongst
rocks, trees, and buildings. A gentle breeze now arising, as appeared
by their horizontal motion, which wafted them at the rate of about ten
miles an hour, over a ridge of mountains, a lake, a thick wood, &c.
they at length reached a cultivated region, which the Brahmin
recognised as the country of the Morosofs, the place they were anxious
to visit. By now letting off two balls of lead to the Earth,
they descended rapidly; and when they were sufficiently near the
ground to observe that it was a fit place for landing, opened the door
of their Balloon, and found the air of the moon inconceivably sweet
and refreshing. They now let loose one of their lower balls, which
somewhat retarded their descent; and in a few minutes more, being
within twenty yards of the ground, they let go the largest ball of
lunarium, which, having a cord attached to it, served in lieu of a
grapnel; by this they drew themselves down, were disengaged from the
machine in a twinkling, and landed "safe and sound" on, we presume,
"luna firma!"
Having seen our travellers securely deposited in the moon, we may
remark, that in the passage from the earth, various topics of an
interesting and important character were canvassed by the Brahmin and
his companion; one, on the causes of national superiority,
suggested by the views of Africa, and a comparison between that
benighted country and others more illuminated, is especially worthy of
attention, as containing a condensed and philosophical view of the
subject; eloquently and perspicuously conveyed.
The view of America, suggests some remarks on the political
peculiarities of the United States, with speculations on their
future destiny.
A lively description of the contrast between the circumstances of the
Kamtschadale—
"The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone,"
and the gay, voluptuous native of the Sandwich, and other isles within
the tropics—the one passing his life in toil, privation, and care—the
other in ease, abundance, and enjoyment—leads to a similar conclusion
to that expressed by Goldsmith:—
"And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
And estimate the blessings which they share,
Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind."
A disquisition also takes place—whether India or Egypt were the
parent of the Arts?
This leads them to refer to the strange custom in the country of the
Brahmin, which impels the widow to throw herself on the funeral pile,
and be consumed with her husband:—
"I told him," says Atterley, "that it had often been represented as
compulsory—or, in other words, that it was said that every art and
means were resorted to, for the purpose of working on the mind of the
woman, by her relatives, aided by the priests, who would be naturally
gratified by such signal triumphs of religion over the strongest
feelings of nature. He admitted that these engines were sometimes put
in operation, and that they impelled to the sacrifice, some who were
wavering; but insisted, that in a majority of instances, the
Suttee was voluntary.
"'Women,' said he, 'are brought up from their infancy, to regard our
sex as their superiors, and to believe that their greatest merit
consists in entire devotion to their husbands. Under this feeling, and
having, at the same time, their attention frequently turned to the
chance of such a calamity, they are better prepared to meet it when it
occurs. How few of the officers in your western armies, ever hesitate
to march, at the head of their men, on a forlorn hope? and how many
even court the danger for the sake of the glory? Nay, you tell me
that, according to your code of honour, if one man insults another, he
who gives the provocation, and he who receives it, rather than be
disgraced in the eyes of their countrymen, will go out, and quietly
shoot at each other with fire-arms, till one of them is killed or
wounded; and this too, in many cases, when the injury has been merely
nominal. If you show such a contempt of death, in deference to a
custom founded in mere caprice, can it be wondered that a woman should
show it, in the first paroxysms of her grief for the loss of him to
whom was devoted every thought, word, and action of her life, and who,
next to her God, was the object of her idolatry? My dear Atterley,' he
continued, with emotion, 'you little know the strength of woman's
love!'"
Other topics of interest are also discussed with the like ingenuity.
After this episode, it is time for us to return to our travellers,
whose feelings, the moment they touched the ground, repayed them for
all they had endured. Atterley looked around with the most intense
curiosity; but nothing he saw, "surprised him so much, as to find so
little that was surprising:"—vegetation, insects, and other animals,
were pretty much of the same character as those he had before seen;
but, on better acquaintance, he found the difference greater than he
had at first supposed. Having refreshed themselves with the remains of
their stores, and secured the door of the machine, they bent their
course to the town of Alamatua, about three miles distant, which
seemed to contain about two thousand houses, and to be not quite as
large as Albany; the people were tall and thin, and of a pale,
yellowish complexion; their garments light, loose, and flowing, and
not very different from those of the Turks; they subsist chiefly on a
vegetable diet, live about as long as we do on the earth,
notwithstanding the great difference of climate, and other
circumstances; and do not, in their manners, habits, or character,
differ more from the inhabitants of this globe, than some of the
latter do from one another; their government, anciently monarchical,
is now popular; their code of laws very intricate; their language,
naturally soft and musical, has been yet further refined by the
cultivation of letters; and they have a variety of sects in religion,
politics, and philosophy.
The lunarians do not, as Butler has it—
"When the sun shines hot at noon,
Inhabit cellars under ground,
Of eight miles deep and eighty round."
But, one half of their houses is beneath the surface, partly for the
purpose of screening them from the continued action of the sun's rays,
and partly on account of the earthquakes caused by volcanoes. The
windows of the houses consisted of openings in the wall, sloping so
much upwards, that, whilst they freely admitted the light and air, the
sun was completely excluded. As soon as they were espied by the
natives, great curiosity was of course excited; not, however, to so
troublesome an extent, as might have been, from the circumstance of
the Brahmin's having visited the moon before. Hence he was soon
recognised by some of his acquaintances, and conducted to the house of
the governor, by whom they were graciously received, and who "began a
course of interesting inquiries regarding the affairs of the earth;"
but a gentleman, whom they afterwards understood to be one of the
leaders of the popular party, coming in, he soon despatched them;
having, however, first directed an officer to furnish them with all
that was necessary for their accommodation, at the public expense;
"which act of hospitality, they had reason to fear, occasioned him
some trouble and perplexity at the succeeding election."
A more minute description follows, of the dress of the male and female
lunarians, especially of that of the latter, to which we can merely
refer the reader. There is one portion, however, of the inhabitants,
with whom the reader must be made acquainted, inasmuch as they form
some of the author's most prominent characters. A large number of
lunarians, it seems, are born without any intellectual vigour, and
wander about like so many automatons, under the care of the
government, until illumined by the mental ray, from some terrestrial
brain, through the mysterious influence which the moon is known to
exercise on our planet. But, in this case, the inhabitant of the earth
loses what he of the moon gains, the ordinary portion of understanding
being divided between two; and, "as might be expected, there is a most
exact conformity between the man of the earth, and his counterpart in
the moon, in all their principles of action, and modes of thinking:"—
"These Glonglims, as they are called, after they have been thus imbued
with intellect, are held in peculiar respect by the vulgar, and are
thought to be in every way superior to those whose understandings are
entire. The laws by which two objects, so far apart, operate on each
other, have been, as yet, but imperfectly developed, and the wilder
their freaks, the more they are the objects of wonder and admiration."
"Now and then, though very rarely, the man of the earth regains the
intellect he has lost; in which case, his lunar counterpart returns to
his former state of imbecility. Both parties are entirely unconscious
of the change—one, of what he has lost, and the other, of what he has
gained."[7]
The belief of the influence of the moon on the human intellect, the
Brahmin remarks, may be perceived in the opinions of the vulgar, and
in many of the ordinary forms of expression; and he takes occasion to
remark, that these very opinions, as well as some obscure hints in the
Sanscrit, give countenance to the idea, that they were not the only
voyagers to the moon; but that, on the contrary, the voyage had been
performed in remote antiquity; and the Lunarians, we are told, have a
similar tradition. Many ordinary forms of expression are adduced in
support of these ideas.
"Thus," says the Brahmin, "it is generally believed, throughout all
Asia, that the moon has an influence on the brain: and when a man is
of insane mind, we call him a lunatic. One of the curses of the common
people is, 'May the moon eat up your brains!' and in China, they say
of a man who has done any act of egregious folly, 'He was gathering
wool in the moon.'" I was struck with these remarks; and told the
hermit that the language of Europe afforded the same indirect evidence
of the fact he mentioned,—that my own language, especially, abounded
with expressions which could be explained on no other hypothesis: for,
besides the terms "lunacy," "lunatic," and the supposed influence of
the moon on the brain, when we see symptoms of a disordered intellect,
we say the mind wanders, which evidently alludes to a part of
it rambling to a distant region, as is the moon. We say too, a man is
"out of his head," that is, his mind being in another man's
head, must of course be out of his own. To "know no more than the man
in the moon," is a proverbial expression for ignorance, and is without
meaning, unless it be considered to refer to the Glonglims.[8]
"We say that an insane man is 'distracted,' by which we mean that his
mind is drawn two different ways. So also, we call a lunatic a man
beside himself, which most distinctly expresses the two distinct
bodies his mind now animates. There are, moreover, many other
analogous expressions, as 'moonstruck,' 'deranged,' 'extravagant,' and
some others, which, altogether, form a mass of concurring testimony
that it is impossible to resist."
Leaving this ingenious badinage with the defence of the serious
and sentimental Schiller,
"Hoher Sinn liegt oft in Kindischen Spiele,"
we return to our travellers, who, at their lodgings, meet with an
instance of lunar puritanism—the family eating those portions
of fruits, vegetables, &c., which are thrown away by us, and vice
versa, "from a persuasion that all pleasure received through the
senses is sinful, and that man never appears so acceptable in the sight
of the Deity, as when he rejects all the delicacies of the palate, as
well as other sensual gratifications, and imposes on himself that food
to which he feels naturally most repugnant."
Avarice is satirized by the story of one of these Glonglims, who
is occupied in making nails, and then dropping them into a well—refusing
to exchange them for bread or clothes, notwithstanding his starved,
haggard appearance, and evident desire for the food proffered:—
"Mettant toute sa gloire et son souverain bien
A grossir un trésor qui ne lui sert de rien."
And this is followed by a picture of reckless prodigality in
another Glonglim.
We pass over the description of the physical peculiarities of the
moon, which seem to be according to the received opinions of
astronomers, as well as the satire on National Prejudices, in
the persons of the Hilliboos and Moriboos, and that on the Godwinian
system of morals.
An indisposition experienced by Atterley, occasions his introduction
to Vindar,[9] a celebrated physician, botanist, &c., on whose opinions
we have a keen satire.
On leaving Vindar's house, they observed a short man, (Napoleon,)
preparing to climb to the top of a plane tree, on which there was one
of the tail feathers of a flamingo; and this he would only mount in
one way—on the shoulders of his men:—
"I could not see this rash Glonglim attempt to climb that dangerous
ladder, without feeling alarm for his safety. At first all seemed to
go on very well; but just as he was about to lay hold of the gaudy
prize, there arose a sudden squall, which threw both him and his
supporters into confusion, and the whole living pyramid came to the
ground together. Many were killed—some were wounded and bruised.
Polenap himself, by lighting on his men, who served him as cushions,
barely escaped with life. But he received a fracture in the upper part
of his head, and a dislocation of the hip, which will not only prevent
him from ever climbing again, but probably make him a cripple for
life.
"The Brahmin and I endeavoured to give the sufferers some assistance;
but this was rendered unnecessary, by the crowd which their cries and
lamentations brought to their relief. I thought that the author of so
much mischief would have been stoned on the spot; but, to my surprise,
his servants seemed to feel as much for his honour as their own
safety, and warmly interfered in his behalf, until they had somewhat
appeased the rage of the surrounding multitude."
The absurdities of the physiognomical system of Lavater,
and of the craniological system of MM. Gall and Spurzheim, were
not likely to escape animadversion, in a work of general satire,
fruitful as they have already been in such themes. The representative
of the former, is a fortune-telling philosopher, Avarabet, (Lavater,)
whose course of proceeding was, to examine the finger nails, and,
according to their form, colour, thickness, surface, grain, and other
properties, to determine the character and destinies of those who
consulted him; and that of the latter, a physician, who judged of the
character of disposition or disease, by the examination of a lock of
the hair. The upshot of the story is, as might be anticipated, that
the fortune-telling philosopher is caught, and exposed in his own
toils.
The impolicy of privateers, and of letters of marque and
reprisals, is next animadverted on, by the story of two
neighbours, who are at variance, and whose dependants are occupied in
laying hold of what they can of each other's flocks and herds, and
doing as much mischief as possible, by which both parties, of
necessity, suffer.
A visit to a projector in building, husbandry, and cookery, introduces
us to some inventions not unworthy of the occupation, of the courtiers
of La Reine Quinte, or of the Professors of the Academy of
Lagado.
The doctrine of the aerial formation of meteoric stones, receives,
too, a passing notice from our author, who is clearly no supporter of
it. It was a long time before the ancients received credit for their
stories of showers of stones; and all were ready to joke with Butler,
at the story of the Thracian rock, which fell in the river Aegos:—
"For Anaxagoras, long agon,
Saw hills, as well as you i'th' moon,
And held the sun was but a piece
Of red hot iron as big as Greece.
Believ'd the heavens were made of stone,
Because the sun had voided one:
And, rather than he would recant
Th' opinion, suffered banishment."
A difficulty surrounds the subject, however we view it.
Aerolites, as they have been designated, have now been found in
almost every region and climate of the globe—from Arabia to the
farthest point of Baffin's Bay; and this very circumstance would seem
to be opposed to their aerial origin, unless we are to suppose that
they can be formed in every state, and in the opposite extremes of the
atmosphere. The Brahmin assigns them a lunar origin, and adds, "our
party were greatly amused at the disputations of a learned society in
Europe, in which they undertook to give a mathematical demonstration,
that they could not be thrown from a volcano of the earth, nor from
the moon, but were suddenly formed in the atmosphere. I should as soon
believe, that a loaf of bread could be made and baked in the
atmosphere."
The "gentleman farmer and projector," being attacked, during their
visit, with cholera morbus, and considering himself in extremis,
a consultation of physicians takes place, in which one portrait
will be obvious—that of Dr. Shuro, who asserts disease to be
a unit; and that it is the extreme of folly, to divide diseases into
classes, which tend but to produce confusion of ideas, and an
unscientific practice. The enthusiasm of the justly celebrated
individual—the original of this portrait, was so great, that the
slightest data were sufficient for the formation of some of his most
elaborate hypotheses—for theories they could not properly
be called; and, accordingly, many of his beautiful and ingenious
superstructures are now prostrated, leaving, in open day, the
insufficiency of their foundation. One of the most striking
examples of this nature, was his belief that the black colour of
the negro is a disease, which depletion, properly exercised, might
be capable of remedying—a scheme not a whit more feasible, than
that of the courtiers of La Reine Quinte, referred to by
Rabelais, "who made blackamoors white, as fast as hops, by just
rubbing their stomachs with the bottom of a pannier."
The satire here is not so fortunately displayed, as in other
instances, owing probably to the difficulty of saying any thing new on
so hackneyed a subject; for it has ever happened, that,—
"The Galenist and Paracelsian,
Condemn the way each other deals in."
The affair concludes, by the Doctors quarrelling; and, in the mean
time, the patient, profiting by some simple remedies administered by
the Brahmin, and an hour's rest, was so much refreshed, that he
considered himself out of danger, and had no need of medical
assistance.
Pestolozzi's system of education, is with justice satirized;
since, instead of affording facilities to the student, as the
superficial observer might fancy, it retards his acquisition of
knowledge, by teaching him to exercise his external senses, rather
than his reflection.[10]
In a menagerie attached to an academy, in which youths of
maturer years were instructed in the fine arts, the travellers had an
opportunity of observing the vain attempts of education, to control
the natural or instinctive propensities.
"Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret."
"For nature driven out, with proud disdain,
All powerful goddess, will return again."
The election of a town constable, exhibits the violence of Lunar
Politics to be much the same as the terrestrial, and seems to have
some allusion to an existing and important controversy amongst
ourselves. The prostitution of the press is satirized by the
story of a number of boys dressed in black and white—wearing the
badges of the party to which they respectively belong, and each
provided with a syringe and two canteens, the one filled with rose
water, and the other with a black, offensive, fluid: the rose water
being squirted at the favourite candidates and voters—the other fluid
on the opposite party. All these were under regular discipline, and at
the word of command discharged their syringes on friend or foe, as the
case might be.
The "glorious uncertainty of the law" (proverbial with us,)
falls also under notice. In Morosofia, it seems, a favourite mode of
settling private disputes, whether concerning person, character, or
property, is by the employment of prize fighters who hire themselves
to the litigants:—
"And out of foreign controversies
By aiding both sides, fill their purses:
But have no int'rest in the cause
For which th' engage and wage the laws
Nor farther prospect than their pay
Whether they lose or win the day."
The chapter concludes with a discussion between an old man and his
wife, in which the policy of encouraging manufactures, is
argued.
In an account of Okalbia—a happy valley—similar only in name to that
in Rasselas, the author seems to sketch his views of a perfect
commonwealth, and glances at some important questions of
politics and political economy. Prudential restraints are
considered sufficient to obviate a redundancy of population—and
on Ricardo's theory of rent, the author holds the same opinions
as those already expressed in this Journal.
Some useful hints are also afforded on the subject of legislation
and jurisprudence.
After having passed a week amongst the singular and happy Okalbians,
whom our travellers found equally amiable, intelligent, and
hospitable, they returned to Alamatua.
Jeffery's theory of beauty, as developed in the article
beauty, of the supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica,
in which he denies the existence of original beauty and refers
it to association, is ridiculed by an extension of a similar kind
of reasoning to the smell.
A description of a Lunar fair follows, which, like a
terrestrial, is the resort of the busy, the idle, the knavish, and the
gay: some in pursuit of pleasure; others again, without any settled
purpose, carried along by the vague desire of meeting with something
to relieve them from the pain of idleness. Political contests
are here represented under the character of gambling transactions, and
if we mistake not, there is a distinct allusion to more than one
important contest in the annals of this country.
Having now satisfied his curiosity, Atterley became anxious to return
to his native planet, and accordingly urged the Brahmin to lose no
time in preparing for their departure. They were soon, however,
informed that a man high in office, by way of affecting political
sagacity, had proposed to detain them, on the ground that when such
voyages as their's were shown to be practicable, the inhabitants of
the earth, who were so much more numerous than those of the moon,
might invade the latter with a large army, for the purpose of rapine
and contest; but notwithstanding the influence of this sapient
politician, they finally obtained leave to quit the moon whenever they
thought proper.
Having taken a "respectful or affectionate" leave of all their
lunarian friends, and got every thing in readiness,—at midnight of
the twentieth of August, they again entered their copper
balloon, and after they had ascended until the face of the moon
looked like one vast lake of melted silver, with here and there small
pieces of grayish dross floating on it, Atterley reminded the Brahmin
of a former promise to detail the history of his early life, to which
he assented:—of this, perhaps the most interesting part of the book,
to the general reader, we regret that our limits will only admit of
our giving a very condensed and imperfect narrative.
Gurameer, the Brahmin, was born at Benares. He was the only son of a
priest of Vishnu, of rank, and was himself intended for the
priesthood. At school, he meets with a boy of the name of Balty
Mahu, between whom and himself a degree of rivalry, and
subsequently the most decided enmity, existed—a circumstance that
decided the character of Gurameer's subsequent life. They afterwards
met at college, where a more extended theatre was afforded for the
exercise of Balty Mahu's malignity. During a vacation, Gurameer, being
on a visit to an uncle in the country, one day, when the family had
gone to witness a grand spectacle in honour of an important festival
in their calendar, which he could not himself attend consistently with
the rules of his caste, was tempted to visit the deserted Zenana, or
ladies' apartment, where he accidentally meets with a beautiful young
female. The acquaintance, thus begun, soon ripened into intimacy, by
means of walks in the garden, contrived by Fatima, one of his female
cousins. At length they are constrained to separate. Veenah (for so
the young lady is named) returns to Benares, whither Gurameer soon
follows her. On making his father acquainted with his attachment, the
latter endeavours to persuade him to overcome it, and informs him that
Veenah's father is avaricious, and a bigot, and hence, that he would
probably be prejudiced against him, owing to some imputations which
had been cast on Gurameer's religious creed, and industriously
circulated by his old enemy, Balty Mahu, who proves to be the cousin
of Veenah These considerations prevail upon Gurameer to defer any
application to Veenah's father, until the suspicions regarding his
faith had either died away or been falsified by his scrupulous
observance of all religious duties. This resolution he determines to
communicate to his mistress. Accordingly, in the evening, he betakes
himself to the quarter of the city where Veenah's father lives; and,
walking to and fro before the house, soon discovers that he is
recognised. By a cord, let down from the window, he conveys a letter
to her, which, the following evening, she answers; and thus a regular
correspondence was kept up, which, by the exercise it afforded to
their imaginations, and the difficulties attendant upon it, inflamed
their passion to the highest pitch. He had, however, soon the
misfortune to be discovered by Balty Mahu, and, in consequence, Veenah
is debarred from pen and ink, but contrives to acquaint her lover that
their intercourse has been discovered, by a short note, written with a
burnt stick. Gurameer now goes in despair to Veenah's father, from
whom he experiences a haughty repulse, and who, in the following
night, secretly leaves the city, with his daughter, embarking on the
Ganges, and taking measures to prevent the discovery of the place of
his retreat. At the expiration of two or three months, an end is put
to Gurameer's doubts and apprehensions, by his return, with his
daughter and son-in-law—a rich Omrah, four times her age. After the
first ebullitions of rage have subsided, his love returns; but he is
never able to succeed in obtaining an interview with Veenah. By his
cousin Fatima, he learns the circumstances of Veenah's marriage, and
the deceptions which had been practised on her, aided by the unbounded
authority which parents exercise in eastern countries. The unhappy
Veenah, as firm in her principles as she was gentle in disposition,
refuses to see him. "Tell him," said she, "that Heaven has forbidden
it, and to its decrees we are bound to submit I am now the wife of
another, and it is our duty to forget all that is past. But if this be
possible, my heart tells me it can be only by our never meeting!"
Gurameer now fell into a state of settled melancholy, and consented to
travel, more for the purpose of pleasing his parents, than from any
concern for his own health; but travelling had little effect—"he
carried a barbed arrow in his heart; and the greater the efforts to
extract it, the more they rankled the wound." When so much emaciated
that he was not expected to live a month, he took a voyage, coastwise,
to Madras; and, on his arrival there, learned that Balty Mahu had
recently left that place. This intelligence operated like a charm; the
desire of revenge roused all his energies and became his master
passion. He immediately set off in pursuit; but, although often near,
could never overtake him. His health rapidly improves; and at length
he hears that the old Omrah's health is rapidly declining. This
information awakens new thoughts and hopes, and Balty Mahu is
forgotten. He hastens hack to Benares; and when near the city, hears
two merchants, in conversation, remark that the Omrah is dead, and
that his widow was the next day to perform the Suttee. He
immediately mounts his horse, and reaches the city the next morning at
sunrise. In the street he mixes with the throng;—hears Veenah pitied,
her father blamed, and himself lamented. He now sees Veenah approach
the funeral pile, who, at the well known sound of his voice, shrieked
out, "he lives! he lives!" and would have attempted to save herself
from the flames; but the shouts of the surrounding multitude, and the
sound of the instruments, drowned her voice. He now attempts to
approach the pile for the purpose of rescuing her, but is forcibly
held back until the wretched Veenah is enveloped in flames. On his
again attempting to reach the pile, he was charged with profanation;
and, on Balty Mahu's making his appearance and encouraging the charge,
in frantic desperation he seizes a scymetar from one of the guards,
and plunges it in his breast. The influence of his friends, and the
sacred character of persons of his caste, saved the Brahmin from
capital punishment; but he was banished from Hindostan. He now removed
to the kingdom of Ava, where he continued so long as his parents
lived, after which he visited several countries, both of Asia and
Europe; and in one of his journeys, having discovered Lunarium Ore in
the mountain near Mogaun, he determined to pass the remainder of his
days in that secluded retreat.—"So ends this strange, eventful
history."
When the Brahmin terminated his narrative, the extended map beneath
them was already assuming a distinct and varied appearance:—
"The Brahmin, having applied his eye to the telescope, and made a
brief calculation of our progress, considered that twenty-four hours
more, if no accident interrupted us, would end our voyage; part of
which interval I passed in making notes in my journal, and in
contemplating the different sections of our many peopled globe, as
they presented themselves successively to the eye. It was my wish to
land on the American continent, and, if possible, in the United
States. But the Brahmin put an end to that hope, by reminding me that
we should be attracted towards the Equator, and that we had to choose
between Asia, Africa, and South America; and that our only course
would be, to check the progress of our car over the country of
greatest extent, through which the equinoctial circle might pass.
Saying which, he relapsed into his melancholy silence, and I betook
myself once more to the telescope. With a bosom throbbing with
emotion, I saw that we were descending towards the American continent.
When we were about ten or twelve miles from the earth, the Brahmin
arrested the progress of the car, and we hovered over the broad
Atlantic. Looking down on the ocean, the first object which presented
itself to my eye, was a small one-masted shallop, which was buffetting
the waves in a south-westerly direction. I presumed it was a
New-England trader, on a voyage to some part of the Republic of
Colombia: and, by way of diverting my friend from his melancholy
reverie, I told him some of the many stories which are current
respecting the enterprise and ingenuity of this portion of my
countrymen, and above all, their adroitness at a bargain.
"'Methinks,' says the Brahmin, 'you are describing a native of Canton
or Pekin. But,' added he, after a short pause, 'though to a
superficial observer man appears to put on very different characters,
to a philosopher he is every where the same—for he is every where
moulded by the circumstances in which he is placed. Thus; let him be
in a situation that is propitious to commerce, and the habits of
traffic produce in him shrewdness and address. Trade is carried on
chiefly in towns, because it is there carried on most advantageously.
This situation gives the trader a more intimate knowledge of his
species—a more ready insight into character, and of the modes of
operating on it. His chief purpose is to buy as cheap, and to sell as
dear, as he can; and he is often able to heighten the recommendations
or soften the defects of some of the articles in which he deals,
without danger of immediate detection; or, in other words, big
representations have some influence with his customers. He avails
himself of this circumstance, and thus acquires the habit of lying;
but, as he is studious to conceal it, he becomes wary, ingenious, and
cunning. It is thus that the Phenicians, the Carthagenians, the Dutch,
the Chinese, the New-Englanders, and the modern Greeks, have always
been regarded as inclined to petty frauds by their less commercial
neighbours.' I mentioned the English nation.
"'If the English,' said he, interrupting me; 'who are the most
commercial people of modern times, have not acquired the same
character, it is because they are as distinguished for other things as
for traffic: they are not merely a commercial people—they are also
agricultural, warlike, and literary; and thus the natural tendencies
of commerce are mutually counteracted.'
"We afterwards descended slowly; the prospect beneath us becoming more
beautiful than my humble pen can hope to describe, or will even
attempt to portray. In a short time after, we were in sight of
Venezuela. We met with the trade winds and were carried by them forty
or fifty miles inland, where, with some difficulty, and even danger,
we landed. The Brahmin and myself remained together two days, and
parted—he to explore the Andes, to obtain additional light on the
subject of his hypothesis, and I, on the wings of impatience, to visit
once more my long-deserted family and friends. But before our
separation, I assisted my friend in concealing our aerial vessel, and
received a promise from him to visit, and perhaps spend with me the
evening of his life. Of my journey home, little remains to be said.
From the citizens of Colombia, I experienced kindness and attention,
and means of conveyance to Caraccas; where, embarking on board the
brig Juno, captain Withers, I once more set foot in New-York, on the
18th of August, 1826, after an absence of four years, resolved, for
the rest of my life, to travel only in books, and persuaded, from
experience, that the satisfaction which the wanderer gains from
actually beholding the wonders and curiosities of distant climes, is
dearly bought by the sacrifice of all the comforts and delights of
home."
We have thus placed before the reader an analysis of this interesting
Satirical Romance. The time and space we have occupied sufficiently
indicate the favourable sentiments respecting it with which we have
been impressed. Of the execution of the satires, from the several
extracts we have given, the reader will himself be enabled to judge.
This is of course unequal, but generally felicitous. In the personal
allusions which occur through the work, the author exhibits, as we
have before noticed, a freedom from malice and all uncharitableness,
and in many of them has attained that happy desideratum which
Dryden considered a matter of so much difficulty:—
"How easy is it," he observes, "to call rogue and villain, and that
wittily! But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a
knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! To spare the
grossness of the names, and to do the thing yet more severely, is to
draw a full face, and to make the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet
not to employ any depth of shadowing. This is the mystery of that
noble trade, which yet no master can teach to his apprentice; he may
give the rules, but the scholar is never the nearer in his practice;
neither is it true, that this fineness of raillery is offensive. A
witty man is tickled, while he is hurt, in this manner, and a fool
feels it not: the occasion of an offence may possibly be given, but he
cannot take it. If it be granted, that, in effect, this way does more
mischief—that a man is secretly wounded, and, though he be not
sensible himself, yet the malicious world will find it out for him,
yet, there is still a vast difference betwixt the slovenly butchering
of a man, and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from
the body, and leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable,
as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a
bare hanging; but to make a malefactor die sweetly, was only belonging
to her husband."[11]
In conclusion, we must express our regret, that the author should not
have added notes to the work—the want of them will be seriously felt
by every one; some of the satires, indeed, must escape the reader,
unless he pay a degree of attention, which notes would have rendered
unnecessary. In his next edition, we trust that this deficiency may be
supplied; and we anticipate as much instruction and entertainment,
from the wide scope which such an undertaking will afford, as we have
derived from the perusal of the text. Cheerfully would we extend to
him, if required, the leisure claimed by Spenser, after he had
composed the first six books of his "Faerie Queene," provided
he would promise us similar conditions:—
"After so long a race as I have run
Through Faery Land, which those six books compile,
Give leave to rest me, being half foredonne,
And gather to myself new breath awhile;
"Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle,
Out of my prison will I break anew,
And stoutly will that second work assoyle,
With strong endeavour, and attention due."
* * * * *
[Footnote 1: Scott's Swift, vol. xi. p. 4]
[Footnote 2: Aristoph. in Pace. 130.]
[Footnote 3: Orlando furioso, Canto xxxiv. St. 68 and 69.]
[Footnote 4: Micromègas, Histoire Philosophique, chap. 8.]
[Footnote 5: Fuller, a learned contemporary of the Bishop, has given
us an amusing case of litigation, originating from this nourishing
character of odours.—
"A poor man, being very hungry, staid so long in a cook's shop, who
was dishing up meat, that his stomach was satisfied with only the
smell thereof. The choleric cook demanded of him to pay for his
breakfast, the poor man denied having had any; and the controversy was
referred to the deciding of the next man that should pass by, who
chanced to be the most notorious idiot in the whole city be, on the
relation of the matter, determined that the poor man's money should be
put betwixt two empty dishes, and the cook should be recompensed with
the jingling of the poor man's money, as he was satisfied with the
smell of the cook's meat."—Fuller's Holy State, lib. iii. c.
12.]
[Footnote 6: Aristophan. in pace. 137.]
[Footnote 7: The idea of the Glonglims is the author's. Ariosto makes
the lost intellect, of those who become insane upon the earth, ascend
to the moon, where it is kept bottled.—
"Era come un liquor suttile e molle,
Atto a esalar, se non si tien ben chiuso;
E si vedea raccolto in varie ampolle,
Qual più, qual men capace, atte a quell' uso."
Orlando furioso, Cant. 34. St. 83.]
[Footnote 8: Our author might also have alluded to the old apology for
every thing inane or contemptible—"It is a tale of the man in the
moon." When that arch flatterer, John Lylie, published (in 1591) his
"Endymion, or the man in the moon"—a court comedy, as it
was afterwards called; in other words, intended for the gratification
of Queen Elizabeth, and in which her personal charms and attractions
are grossly lauded—he pleads guilty to its defect in plot, in the
following exquisite apologetic prologue:—
"Most high and happy Princess, we must tell you a tale of the man in
the moon; which, if it seem ridiculous for the method, or superfluous
for the matter, or for the means incredible, for three faults we can
make but one excuse,—it is a tale of the man of the moon."
"It was forbidden in old time to dispute of Chymera, because it was a
fiction: we hope in our times none will apply pastimes, because they
are fancies: for there liveth none under the sun that knows what to
make of the man in the moon. We present neither comedy, nor tragedy,
nor story, nor any thing, but that whosoever heareth may say this:—
'Why, here is a tale of the man in the moon.' Yet this is the man
designated by Blount, who re-published his plays in 1632, as the '_only
rare poet of that time, the witie, comicall, facetiously-quicke, and
unparallel'd John Lylie, Master of Arts!'"]
[Footnote 9: It is to be regretted that the author has not followed
the good example set him by Johnson, in his Debates in the Senate
of Magna Lilliputia, published in the Gentlemen's Magazine for
1738: the denominations of the speakers being formed of the letters of
their real names, so that they might be easily deciphered. This
neglect has obscured many of the author's most interesting satires.
Who could suppose from the letters alone, that Wigurd, Vindar,
and Avarabet, were respectively intended for Godwin, Darwin,
and Lavater?]
[Footnote 10: It is a curious circumstance, that Swift, in his
description of the Academy of Lagado, should have so completely
anticipated the Pestalozzian invention.]
[Footnote 11: Dryden's Essay on Satire]