"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.