ταῦτα τοῦ Θέωνος εἰπόντος, κάλλιστὰ γʼ ἔφην καὶ ἄριστα τῇ παιδιᾷ τοῦ λόγου τὰς ὀφρῦς ἡμῶν ἔλυσας, διʼ ἃ καὶ θάρσος ἡμῖν ἐγγίγνεται πρὸς τὴν ἀπόκρισιν, μὴ πάνυ πικρὰν μηδʼ αὐστηρὰν εὐθύνην προσδοκῶσι· καὶ γὰρ ὡς ἀληθῶς τῶν σφόδρα πεπεισμένων τὰ τοιαῦτα διαφέρουσιν οὐδὲν οἱ σφόδρα δυσκολαίνοντες αὐτοῖς καὶ διαπιστοῦντες ἀλλὰ μὴ πράως τὸ δυνατὸν καὶ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον ἐθέλοντες ἐπισκοπεῖν, εὐθὺς οὖν τὸ πρῶτον οὐκ ἀναγκαῖόν ἐστιν, εἰ μὴ κατοικοῦσιν ἄνθρωποι τὴν σελήνην, μάτην γεγονέναι καὶ πρὸς μηδέν. οὐδὲ γὰρ τήνδε τὴν γῆν διʼ ὅλης ἐνεργὸν οὐδὲ προσοικουμένην ὁρῶμεν, ἀλλὰ μικρὸν αὐτῆς μέρος, ὥσπερ ἄκροις τισὶν ἢ χερρονήσοις ἀνέχουσιν ἐκ βυθοῦ γόνιμόν ἐστι ζῴων καὶ φυτῶν, τῶν δʼ ἄλλων τὰ μὲν ἔρημα καὶ ἄκαρπα χειμῶσι καὶ αὐχμοῖς, τὰ δὲ πλεῖστα κατὰ τῆς μεγάλης δέδυκε θαλάσσης. ἀλλὰ σύ, τὸν Ἀρίσταρχον ἀγαπῶν ἀεὶ καὶ θαυμάζων, οὐκ ἀκούεις Κράτητος ἀναγιγνώσκοντος Ὠκεανός, ὅσπερ γένεσις πάντεσσι τέτυκται / ἀνδράσιν ἠδὲ θεοῖς, πλείστην ἐπὶ γαῖαν ἵησιν. / ἀλλὰ πολλοῦ δεῖ μάτην ταῦτα γεγονέναι· καὶ γὰρ ἀναθυμιάσεις ἡ θάλασσα μαλακὰς ἀνίησι καὶ τῶν πνευμάτων τὰ ἥδιστα, θέρους ἀκμάζοντος, ἐκ τῆς ἀοικήτου καὶ κατεψυγμένης αἱ χιόνες ἀτρέμα διατηκόμεναι χαλῶσι καὶ διασπείρουσιν ἡμέρας τε καὶ νυκτὸς ἕστηκεν ἀτρεκὴς ἐν μέσῳ φύλαξ κατὰ Πλάτωνα καὶ δημιουργός. οὐδὲν οὖν κωλύει καὶ τὴν σελήνην ζῴων μὲν ἔρημον εἶναι, παρέχειν δʼ ἀνακλάσεις τε τῷ φωτὶ περὶ αὐτὴν διαχεομένῳ καὶ συρροὴν ταῖς τῶν ἀστέρων αὐγαῖς ἐν αὐτῇ καὶ σύγκρασιν, ᾗ συνεκπέττει τε τὰς ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς ἀναθυμιάσεις, ἅμα τε καὶ τοῦ ἡλίου τὸ ἔμπυρον ἄγαν καὶ σκληρὸν ἀνίησι. καὶ πού τι καὶ παλαιᾷ φήμῃ διδόντες Ἄρτεμιν αὐτὴν νομισθῆναι φήσομεν ὡς παρθένον καὶ ἄγονον, ἄλλως δὲ βοηθητικὴν καὶ ὠφέλιμον. ἔπειτα τῶν γʼ εἰρημένων οὐδέν, ὦ φίλε Θέων, ἀδύνατον δείκνυσι τὴν λεγομένην ἐπʼ αὐτῆς οἴκησιν· ἥ τε γὰρ δίνη πολλὴν ἔχουσα πραότητα καὶ γαλήνην ἐπιλεαίνει τὸν ἀέρα καὶ διανέμει συγκατακοσμούμενον, ὥστε μηδὲν εἶναι δέος ἐκπεσεῖν καὶ ἀποσφαλῆναι τοὺς ἐκεῖ βεβιωκότας· ἥ τε μεταλλαγὴ καὶ τὸ ποικίλον τοῦτο τῆς φορᾶς καὶ πεπλανημένον οὐκ ἀνωμαλίας οὐδὲ ταραχῆς ἐστιν, ἀλλὰ θαυμαστὴν ἐπιδείκνυνται τάξιν ἐν τούτοις καὶ πορείαν οἱ ἀστρολόγοι, κύκλοις τισὶ περὶ κύκλους ἑτέρους ἐξελιττομένοις συνάγοντες αὐτὴν οἱ μὲν ἀτρεμοῦσαν, οἱ δὲ λείως καὶ ὁμαλῶς ἀεὶ τάχεσι τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἀνθυποφερομένην· αὗται γὰρ αἱ τῶν κύκλων ἐπιβάσεις καὶ περιαγωγαὶ καὶ σχέσεις πρὸς ἀλλήλους καὶ πρὸς ἡμᾶς τὰ φαινόμενα τῆς κινήσεως ὕψη καὶ βάθη καὶ τὰς κατὰ πλάτος παραλλάξεις ἅμα ταῖς κατὰ μῆκος αὐτῆς περιόδοις ἐμμελέστατα συμπεραίνουσι. τὴν δὲ πολλὴν θερμότητα καὶ συνεχῆ πύρωσιν ὑφʼ ἡλίου παύσῃ φοβούμενος, ἂν πρῶτον μὲν ἀντιθῇς ταῖς ἕνδεκα θεριναῖς συνόδοις τὰς πανσελήνους· εἴσῃ δὲ τὸ συνεχὲς τῆς μεταβολῆς ταῖς ὑπερβολαῖς χρόνον οὐκ ἐχούσαις πολὺν ἐμποιεῖν κρᾶσιν οἰκείαν καὶ τὸ ἄγαν ἑκατέρας ἀφαιρεῖν, ἀμέσου δὲ τούτων, ὡς εἰκός, ὥραν ἔαρι προσφορωτάτην ἔχουσιν. ἔπειτα πρὸς μὲν ἡμᾶς καθίησι δἰ ἀέρος θολεροῦ καὶ συνεπερείδοντος; θερμότητα ταῖς ἀναθυμιάσεσι τρεφομένην· ἐκεῖ δὲ λεπτὸς ὢν καὶ διαυγὴς ὁ ἀὴρ σκίδνησι καὶ διαχεῖ τὴν αὐγήν, ὑπέκκαυμα καὶ σῶμα μηδὲν ἔχουσαν. ὕλην δὲ καὶ καρποὺς αὐτοῦ μὲν ὄμβροι τρέφουσιν, ἑτέρωθι δέ, ὥσπερ ἄνω περὶ Θήβας παρʼ ὑμῖν καὶ Συήνην, οὐκ ὄμβριον ὕδωρ ἀλλὰ γηγενὲς ἡ γῆ πίνουσα καὶ χρωμένη πνεύμασι καὶ δρόσοις οὐκ ἂν ἐθελήσειεν, οἶμαι, τῇ πλεῖστον ὑομένῃ πολυκαρπία συμφέρεσθαι διʼ ἀρετήν τινα καὶ κρᾶσιν. τὰ δʼ αὐτὰ φυτὰ τῷ γένει παρʼ ἡμῖν μέν, ἐὰν σφόδρα πιεσθῇ χειμῶσιν, ἐκφέρει πολὺν καὶ καλὸν καρπόν ἐν δὲ Λιβύῃ καὶ παρʼ ὑμῖν· ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ δύσριγα κομιδῇ καὶ δειλὰ πρὸς χειμῶνάς; ἐστι. τῆς δὲ Γεδρωσίας καὶ Τρωγλοδύτιδος, ἣ καθήκει πρὸς τὸν ὠκεανόν ἀφόρου διὰ ξηρότητα καὶ ἀδένδρου παντάπασιν οὔσης, ἐν τῇ παρακειμένῃ καὶ περικεχυμένῃ θαλάττῃ θαυμαστὰ μεγέθη φυτῶν τρέφεται καὶ κατὰ βυθοῦ τέθηλεν· ὧν τὰ μὲν ἐλαίας τὰ δὲ δάφνας τὰ δʼ Ἴσιδος τρίχας καλοῦσιν. οἱ δʼ ἀνακαμψέρωτες οὗτοι προσαγορευόμενοι, τῆς γῆς ἐξαιρεθέντες, οὐ μόνον ζῶσι κρεμάμενοι χρόνον ὅσον βούλεταί τις ἀλλὰ βλαστάνουσιν. σπείρεται δὲ τὰ μὲν πρὸς χειμῶνος τὰ δὲ θέρους ἀκμάζοντος, ὥσπερ σήσαμον καὶ μελίνη· τὸ δὲ θύμον ἢ τὸ κενταύριον ἂν εἰς ἀγαθὴν καὶ πίονα σπαρῇ χώραν καὶ βρέχηται καὶ ἄρδηται, τῆς κατὰ φύσιν ἐξίσταται ποιότητος καὶ ἀποβάλλει τὴν δύναμιν, αὐχμῷ δὲ χαίρει καὶ πρὸς τὸ οἰκεῖον ἐπιδίδωσιν· εἰ δʼ ὥς φασιν οὐδὲ τὰς δρόσους ἀνέχεται, καθάπερ τὰ πλεῖστα τῶν Ἀραβικῶν, ἀλλʼ ἐξαμαυροῦται διαινόμενα καὶ φθείρεται, τί δὴ θαυμαστόν ἐστιν εἰ γίγνονται περὶ τὴν σελήνην ῥίζαι καὶ σπέρματα καὶ ὗλαι μηδὲν ὑετῶν δεόμεναι μηδὲ χιόνων ἀλλὰ πρὸς θερινὸν ἀέρα καὶ λεπτὸν εὐφυῶς ἔχουσαι; πῶς δʼ οὐκ εἰκὸς; ἀνιέναι τε πνεύματα θαλπόμενα τῇ σελήνῃ καὶ τῷ σάλῳ τῆς περιφορᾶς αὔρας τε παρομαρτεῖν ἀτρέμα, καὶ δρόσους καὶ ὑγρότητας ἐλαφρὰς περιχεούσας, καὶ διασπειρομένας ἐπαρκεῖν τοῖς βλαστάνουσιν, αὐτὴν δὲ τῇ κράσει μὴ πυρώδη μηδʼ αὐχμηρὰν ἀλλὰ μαλακὴν καὶ ὑδροποιὸν εἶναι; ξηρότητος μὲν γὰρ οὐδὲν ἀφικνεῖται πάθος ἀπʼ αὐτῆς πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ὑγρότητος δὲ πολλὰ καὶ θηλύτητος, αὐξήσεις φυτῶν, σήψεις κρεῶν, τροπαὶ καὶ ἀνέσεις οἴνων, μαλακότητες ξύλων, εὐτοκίαι γυναικῶν. δέδοικα δʼ ἡσυχάζοντα Φαρνάκην αὖθις ἐρεθίζειν καὶ κινεῖν, ὠκεανοῦ τε πλημμύρας ὡς λέγουσιν αὐτοὶ καὶ πορθμῶν ἐπιδόσεις, διαχεομένων καὶ αὐξανομένων ὑπὸ τῆς σελήνης τῷ ἀνυγραίνεσθαι, παρατιθέμενος. διὸ πρὸς σὲ τρέψομαι μᾶλλον, ὦ φίλε Θέων λέγεις γὰρ ὑμῖν, ἐξηγούμενος ταυτὶ τὰ Ἀλκμᾶνος Διὸς θυγάτηρ Ἔρσα τρέφει καὶ δίας Σελάνας, ὅτι νῦν τὸν ἀέρα καλεῖ Δία καί φησιν αὐτὸν ὑπὸ τῆς σελήνης καθυγραινόμενον εἰς δρόσους τρέπεσθαι. κινδυνεύει γάρ, ὦ ἑταῖρε, πρὸς τὸν ἣλιον ἀντιπαθῆ φύσιν ἔχειν· εἴγε μὴ μόνον, ὅσα πυκνοῦν καὶ ξηραίνειν ἐκεῖνος, αὕτη μαλάσσειν καὶ διαχεῖν πέφυκεν ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν ἀπʼ ἐκείνου θερμότητα καθυγραίνειν καὶ καταψύχειν προσπίπτουσαν αὐτῇ καὶ συμμιγνυμένην. οἵ τε δὴ τὴν σελήνην ἔμπυρον σῶμα καὶ διακαὲς εἶναι νομίζοντες ἁμαρτάνουσιν οἵ τε τοῖς ἐκεῖ ζῴοις ὅσα τοῖς ἐνταῦθα πρὸς γένεσιν καὶ τροφὴν καὶ δίαιταν ἀξιοῦντες ὑπάρχειν, ἐοίκασιν ἀθέατοι τῶν περὶ τὴν φύσιν ἀνωμαλιῶν, ἐν αἷς μείζονας ἔστι καὶ πλείονας πρὸς ἄλληλα τῶν ζῴων ἢ πρὸς τὰ μὴ ζῷα διαφορὰς καὶ ἀνομοιότητας εὑρεῖν. καὶ εὔστομοι μὲν ἄνθρωποι καὶ ὀσμαῖς τρεφόμενοι μὴ ἔστωσαν, οἳ μηδʼ εἶναί μοι δοκοῦσιν· ἣν δʼ Ἀμμώνιος ἡμῖν αὐτὸς ἐξηγεῖτο δύναμιν, ᾐνίξατο μὲν Ἡσίοδος εἰπών οὐδʼ ὅσον ἐν μαλάχῃ τε καὶ ἀσφοδέλῳ μέγʼ ὄνειαρ ἔργῳ δʼ ἐμφανῆ παρέσχεν Ἐπιμενίδης, διδάξας ὅτι μικρῷ παντάπασιν ἡ φύσις ὑπεκκαύματι ζωπυρεῖ καὶ συνέχει τὸ ζῷον, ἂν ὅσον ἐλαίας μέγεθος λάβῃ, μηδεμιᾶς ἔτι τροφῆς δεόμενον. τοὺς δʼ ἐπὶ τῆς σελήνης, εἴπερ εἰσίν, εὐσταλεῖς εἶναι τοῖς σώμασι καὶ διαρκεῖς ὑπὸ τῶν τυχόντων τρέφεσθαι πιθανόν ἐστι· καὶ γὰρ αὐτὴν τὴν σελήνην, ὥσπερ τὸν ἣλιον, ζῷον ὄντα πύρινον καὶ τῆς γῆς ὄντα πολλαπλάσιον, ἀπὸ τῶν ὑγρῶν φασι τῶν ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς τρέφεσθαι, καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ἀστέρας ἀπείρους ὄντας· οὕτως ἐλαφρὰ καὶ λιτὰ τῶν ἀναγκαίων φέρειν ζῷα τὸν ἄνω τόπον ὑπολαμβάνουσιν. ἀλλʼ οὔτε ταῦτα συνορῶμεν οὔτε ὅτι καὶ χώρα καὶ φύσις καὶ κρᾶσις ἄλλη πρόσφορός ἐστιν αὐτοῖς· ὥσπερ οὖν εἰ, τῇ θαλάττῃ μὴ δυναμένων ἡμῶν προσελθεῖν μηδʼ ἅψασθαι μόνον δὲ τὴν θέαν αὐτῆς πόρρωθεν ἀφορώντων καὶ πυνθανομένων ὅτι πικρὸν καὶ ἄποτον καὶ ἁλμυρὸν ὕδωρ ἐστίν, ἔλεγέ τις ὡς ζῷα πολλὰ καὶ μεγάλα καὶ παντοδαπὰ ταῖς μορφαῖς τρέφει κατὰ βάθους καὶ θηρίων ἐστὶ πλήρης ὕδατι χρωμένων ὅσαπερ ὑμεῖς ἀέρι, μύθοις ἂν ὅμοια καὶ τέρασιν ἐδόκει περαίνειν οὕτως ἐοίκαμεν ἔχειν καὶ ταὐτὸ πάσχειν πρὸς τὴν σελήνην, ἀπιστοῦντες ἐκεῖ τινας ἀνθρώπους κατοικεῖν. ἐκείνους δʼ ἂν οἴομαι πολὺ μᾶλλον ἀποθαυμάσαι τὴν γῆν, ἀφορῶντας οἷον ὑποστάθμην καὶ ἰλὺν τοῦ παντὸς ἐν ὑγροῖς καὶ ὁμίχλαις καὶ νέφεσι διαφαινομένην ἀλαμπὲς καὶ ταπεινὸν καὶ ἀκίνητον χωρίον, εἰ ζῷα φύει καὶ τρέφει μετέχοντα κινήσεως ἀναπνοῆς θερμότητος· κἂν εἴ ποθεν αὐτοῖς ἐγγένοιτο τῶν Ὁμηρικῶν τούτων ἀκοῦσαι σμερδαλέʼ, εὐρώεντα, τά τε στυγέουσι θεοί περ καὶ τόσσον ἔνερθʼ Ἀίδεω, ὅσον οὐρανὸς ἔστʼ ἀπὸ γαίης, ταῦτα φήσουσιν ἀτεχνῶς περὶ τοῦ χωρίου τούτου λέγεσθαι καὶ τὸν Ἅιδην ἐνταῦθα καὶ τὸν Τάρταρον ἀπῳκίσθαι, γῆν δὲ μίαν εἶναι τὴν σελήνην, ἴσον ἐκείνων τῶν ἄνω καὶ τῶν κάτω τούτων ἀπέχουσαν.
When Theon had spoken these things; You have very dexterously and gently, said I to him, by this facetiousness of yours smoothed as it were the brow, and taken off the chagrin and sourness of this discourse; which encourages and emboldens us to return an answer, since, however we may chance to fail, we expect not any severe or rigorous chastisement. For, to speak the truth, they who are extremely offended with these things and wholly discredit them, not being willing mildly to consider what probability and possibility there may be in them, are not much less in fault than those that are too excessively persuaded of them. First then, I say, it is not necessary that the moon must have been made in vain and to no end or purpose, if there are not men who dwell in it; for we see that this very earth here is not all cultivated or inhabited, but that only a small part of it, like so many promontories or demi-islands arising out of the deep, engenders, brings forth, and breeds plants and animals; the rest being through excessive cold or heat wholly desert and barren, or (which is indeed the greatest share of it) covered and plunged under the vast ocean. But you, who are always so great a lover and admirer of Aristarchus, give no ear to Crates when he reads in Homer, The sea, which gave to Gods and men their birth, / Covers with waves the most part of the earth. / And yet those parts are far from having been made in vain. For the sea exhales and breathes out mild vapors; and the snow, leisurely melting from the cold and uninhabited regions, sends forth and spreads over all our countries those gentle breezes which qualify the scorching heat of summer; and in the midst, as Plato says, is placed the faithful guardian and operator of night and day. There is then nothing to hinder but that the moon may be without living creatures, and yet give reflections to the light that is diffused about her, and afford a receptacle to the rays of the stars, which have their confluence and temperature in her, for to digest the evaporation rising from the earth and moderate the over-violent and fiery heat of the sun. And attributing much to ancient fame, we will say that she is styled Diana, as being a virgin and fruitless, but otherwise greatly salutary, helpful, and profitable to the world. Moreover, of all that has been said, my friend Theon, there is nothing which shows it impossible for the moon to be inhabited. For her turning about, being gentle, mild, and calm, dulcifies and polishes the ambient air, and distributes it in so good order about her, that there is no occasion to fear the falling or slipping out of those who live in her. And as to the diversity and multiplicity of her motion, it proceeds not from any inequality, error, or uncertainty, but the astrologers show in this an admirable order and course, enclosing her within circles, which are turned by other circles; some supposing that she herself stirs not, others making her always move equally, smoothly, and with the same swiftness. For it is these ascensions of divers circles, with their turnings and habitudes, one towards another and with respect to us, which most exactly make those heights, depths, and depressions, that appear to us in her motion, and her digressions in latitude, all joined with the ordinary revolution she makes in longitude. As to the great heat and continual inflammation of the sun, you will cease to fear it, if first to the eleven estival conjunctions you oppose the full moons, and then to the excesses the continuity of change which permits them not to last long, reducing them to a proper and peculiar temperature, and taking from them both what is over much; for the middle, or what is between them, it is probable, has a season most like to the spring. And, moreover, the sun sends his beams to us through a gross and troubled air, and casts on us an heat fed by exhalation; whereas the air, being there subtile and transparent, dissipates and disperses his lustre, which has no nourishment nor body on which it may settle. Trees and fruits are here nourished by showers; but elsewhere, as in the higher countries with you about Thebes and Syene, the earth drinking in not aerial but earth-bred water, and being assisted with refreshing winds and dew, will not (such is the virtue and temperature of the soil) yield the first place for fertility to the best watered land in the world. And the same sorts of trees which in our country, having suffered a long and sharp winter, bring forth abundance of good fruit, are in Africa and with you in Egypt soon offended with cold and very fearful of the winter. And the provinces of Gedrosia and Troglodytis, which lie near the ocean sea, being by reason of drought barren and without any trees, there grow nevertheless in the adjacent sea trees of a wonderful height and bigness, and green even to the very bottom; some of which they call olive-trees, others laurels, and others the hair of Isis. And those plants which are named anacampserotes, being hanged up after they are plucked out of the ground, not only live, but—which is more—bud and put forth green leaves. Some seeds are sown in winter; and others in the heat of summer, like sesame and millet. And thyme or centaury, if it is sown in a rich and fat earth, and there well drenched and watered, degenerates from its natural quality and all its virtue, because it loves dryness and thrives in its own proper natural soil. Others cannot bear so much as the least dew, of which kind are the most part of the Arabian plants, and if they are but once wet, they wither, fade, and die. What wonder is it then, if there grow in the moon roots, seeds, and plants which have no need of rains or winter colds, and are appropriated to a dry and subtile air, such as is that of summer? And why may it not be probable that the moon sends forth warm winds, and that her shaking and agitation, as she moves, is accompanied by comfortable breezes, fine dews, and gentle moistures, which are everywhere dispersed to furnish nutriment for the verdant plants?—seeing she is not of her temperature ardent or parched with drought, but rather soft, moist, and engendering all humidity. For there come not from her to us any effects of dryness, but many of a feminine moisture and softness, such as are the growing of plants, the putrefaction of flesh, the changing and flatness of wines, the tenderness and rotting of wood, and the easy deliveries of child-bearing women. But because I am afraid of irritating again and provoking Pharnaces—who all this while speaks not a word—if I should allege the flowing and ebbing of the great ocean (as they themselves say), and the increasing of the friths and straits, which swell and rise by the moon augmenting the moisture; therefore I will rather turn myself to you, my friend Theon. For you, interpreting this verse of the poet Alcman, Such things as dew, Jove’s daughter and the moon’s, / Does nourish, / tell us, that in this place he calls the air Jupiter, which, being moistened by the moon, is by Nature changed into dew. For she seems, my good friend, to be of a nature almost wholly contrary to the sun, not only in that she is wonted to moisten, dissolve, and soften what he thickens, dries, and hardens; but moreover, in that she allays and cools his heat, when it lights upon her and is mingled with her.
Those then who think the moon to be a fiery and burning body are in an error; and in like manner those who would have all such things to be necessary for the generation, life, food, and entertainment of the animals dwelling there as are requisite to those that are here below, consider not the vast diversity and inequality there is in Nature; in which there are found greater varieties and differences between animals and animals, than there are between animals and other subjects that are not animated. There are surely not in the world any men of such pure mouths that they feed only on smells. […] But that power of Nature which Ammonius himself has shown us, and which Hesiod has obscurely signified in these words, Nor how great virtue is in asphodels and mallows, / Epimenides has made plain to us in effect, teaching us that Nature sustains a living creature with very little food, and that, provided it has but the quantity of an olive, it stands in need of no other nourishment. Now, if any, those surely who dwell within the moon should be active, light, and easy to be nourished with any thing whatsoever; since they affirm that the moon herself, as also the sun, which is a fiery animal, and manifoldly greater than the earth, is nourished and maintained by the moistures that come from the earth, as are also all the other stars, whose number is in a manner infinite; such light and slender animals do they assign to the upper region, and with so small necessaries do they think them contented and satisfied. But we neither see these things, nor consider that a quite different region, nature, and temperature is accommodated to those lunar men.
As therefore, if we were unable to come near and touch the sea, but could only see it at a distance, and had heard that its water is brackish, salt, and undrinkable, any one who should tell us that there are in its depths many and great animals of various forms and shapes, and that it is full of great and monstrous beasts who make the same use of the water as we do of the air, would be thought only to relate a parcel of strange and uncreditable stories, newly found out and invented for delight and amusement; in the same manner we seem to be affected and disposed towards the moon, not believing that there are any who inhabit it. And I am of opinion, that they themselves do much more wonder, when they behold the earth,—which is, as it were, the dregs and mud of the universe, appearing to them through moist and foggy clouds and mists, a little place, a low, abject, and immovable thing without any brightness or light whatever,—how this pitiful inconsiderable thing should be able to produce, nourish, and maintain animals that have motion, respiration, and heat. And if peradventure they had ever heard these verses of Homer, A filthy squalid place, abhorred even by / The Gods themselves; / and again, Hell is as far beneath, as heaven above / The earth; / they would certainly think them to have been written of this place where we live, and that here is hell and Tartarus, and that the earth which is equally distant from heaven and hell is only the moon.
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