L — Le Ciel des Anciens

If a silkworm called the little down surrounding its cocoon the sky, it would reason just as well as all the ancients did when they gave that name to the atmosphere, which, as Mr. de Fontenelle so aptly says in his Worlds, is the down around our cocoon.

The vapors rising from our seas and our earth, which form clouds, meteors, and thunder, were first taken for the dwelling of the gods. In Homer the gods always descend in golden clouds; that is why painters still portray them sitting on a cloud today. But since it was only right that the master of the gods should be more comfortable than the others, they gave him an eagle to carry him, because the eagle flies higher than other birds.

The ancient Greeks, seeing that the masters of cities lived in citadels on some mountaintop, judged that the gods might have a citadel too, and placed it in Thessaly on Mount Olympus, whose summit is sometimes hidden in clouds, so that their palace stood on the same level as their sky.

The stars and planets, which seem fastened to the blue vault of our atmosphere, next became the dwellings of the gods. Seven of them each had a planet; the others lodged wherever they could. The general council of the gods met in a great hall reached by the Milky Way; for the gods certainly needed a hall in the air, since men had town halls on earth.

When the Titans, a species of animal between gods and men, declared a fairly just war on these gods to claim part of their inheritance on their father’s side, being sons of heaven and earth, they merely piled two or three mountains on top of one another, reckoning that this was quite enough to make them masters of heaven and the castle of Olympus.

And lest high heaven be safer than the earth,The giants, they say, aspired to heaven’s kingdom,And piled high mountains up toward the stars.

This physics of children and old women was prodigiously ancient; yet it is quite certain that the Chaldeans had ideas as sound as ours about what is called the heavens. They placed the sun at the center of our planetary world, at roughly the distance from our globe that we have established; they had the earth and all the planets revolve around that star. Aristarchus of Samos tells us this. It is the true system of the world, which Copernicus later revived; but the philosophers kept the secret to themselves, to win greater respect from kings and people—or rather, to escape persecution.

The language of error is so familiar to men that we still call our vapors, and the space between the earth and the moon, the sky. We say “go up to heaven,” just as we say the sun turns, though we know perfectly well that it does not. We are probably the sky for the inhabitants of the moon, and each planet places its heaven on the neighboring planet.

If someone had asked Homer which heaven Sarpedon’s soul had gone to, and where Hercules’ soul was, Homer would have been very much at a loss; he would have answered in harmonious verse.

What assurance was there that Hercules’ airy soul would have found itself more comfortable on Venus or Saturn than on our globe? Might it have been in the sun? The place hardly seems habitable in that furnace. In short, what did the ancients mean by heaven? They knew nothing about it. They were forever crying “heaven and earth”; it is as though someone cried “infinity and an atom.” Strictly speaking, there is no heaven. There is a prodigious number of globes rolling through empty space, and our globe rolls like the rest.

The ancients believed that going to heaven meant going up; but one does not go up from one globe to another. The heavenly globes are sometimes above our horizon, sometimes below it. Thus, suppose that Venus, after coming to Paphos, returned to her planet when that planet had set: the goddess Venus was not then going up in relation to our horizon; she was going down, and in that case one ought to have said “go down to heaven.” But the ancients did not split such fine hairs. Their notions about everything belonging to physics were vague, uncertain, contradictory. Enormous volumes have been written to discover what they thought about many questions of this sort. Four words would have sufficed: they did not think.

One must always except a small number of sages; but they came late, few explained their thoughts, and when they did, the charlatans of the earth sent them to heaven by the shortest route.

A writer named Pluche, I believe, undertook to make Moses a great physicist. Another had previously reconciled Moses with Descartes and published Cartesius Mozaizans. According to him, Moses was the first to invent vortices and subtle matter. But everyone knows well enough that God, who made Moses a great legislator and a great prophet, had no wish whatever to make him a professor of physics. He instructed the Jews in their duty and taught them not a word of philosophy. Calmet, who compiled a great deal and never reasoned at all, speaks of the Hebrews’ system; but this crude people was very far from possessing a system. They did not even have a school of geometry; the name itself was unknown to them. Their only science was brokerage and usury.

Their books contain a few muddled, incoherent ideas about the structure of heaven, worthy in every respect of a barbarous people. Their first heaven was the air, the second the firmament, to which the stars were fastened. This firmament was solid and made of ice, and supported the upper waters, which escaped from that reservoir through doors, sluices, and cataracts at the time of the Flood.

Above this firmament, or these upper waters, was the third heaven, or empyrean, to which St. Paul was caught up. The firmament was a kind of half-vault embracing the earth. The sun did not circle a globe of which they knew nothing. When it reached the west, it returned east by an unknown path; and if it was not seen, that was, as the Baron de Fæneste says, because it came back at night.

Even these fantasies the Hebrews had borrowed from other peoples. Most nations, except the Chaldean school, regarded heaven as solid. The earth, fixed and motionless, was a good third longer from east to west than from south to north; this is the origin of the expressions longitude and latitude that we have adopted. Plainly, on this view, there could be no antipodes. Accordingly, St. Augustine calls the idea of antipodes an absurdity, and Lactantius expressly says, “Are there people foolish enough to believe that there are men whose heads are lower than their feet?” etc.

St. Chrysostom exclaims in his fourteenth homily, “Where are those who maintain that the heavens move and that their shape is circular?”

Lactantius also says in Book III of his Institutions: “I could prove to you by many arguments that it is impossible for heaven to surround the earth.”

The author of the Spectacle of Nature may tell the Chevalier as often as he likes that Lactantius and St. Chrysostom were great philosophers; the answer will be that they were great saints, and that being a saint does not in the least require being a good astronomer. We shall believe that they are in heaven, but admit that we do not know precisely which part of heaven they are in.

Suppose a silkworm called the little fluff around its cocoon heaven. It would be reasoning just as well as all the ancients did. They called the atmosphere heaven. As Mr. de Fontenelle says very well in his Worlds, it’s the fluff around our cocoon.

Vapors rise from our seas and land, forming clouds, weather phenomena, and thunder. At first, people took them for the gods’ home. In Homer, the gods always come down in golden clouds. That’s why painters still show them sitting on a cloud today. But surely the master of the gods deserved more comfort than the others. So they gave him an eagle to carry him. Eagles fly higher than other birds.

The ancient Greeks saw city rulers living in strongholds on mountaintops. They thought the gods could have a stronghold too. They put it in Thessaly, on Mount Olympus. Clouds sometimes hide its peak. So the gods’ palace was on the same level as their heaven.

Stars and planets seem fixed to the blue vault of our atmosphere. They became the gods’ next homes. Seven gods each got their own planet. The others stayed wherever they could. All the gods met in council in a great hall. The Milky Way was the way there. Surely gods needed a hall in the air, since people had town halls on earth.

The Titans were a kind of creature between gods and humans. They declared a fairly just war on those gods. As sons of heaven and earth, they claimed part of their father’s inheritance. They only piled two or three mountains on top of each other. They thought that would easily let them capture heaven and the castle of Olympus.

So that the high sky would be no safer than the earth,they say the giants aimed to seize the heavenly kingdom,and piled up mountains high to reach the stars.

This physics of children and old women was incredibly old. Yet the Chaldeans certainly had ideas about heaven as sound as ours. They put the Sun at the center of our planetary world. Its distance from our globe was roughly the one we’ve established. They had the Earth and all the planets go around that star. Aristarchus of Samos tells us this. It’s the true system of the world that Copernicus later revived. But the philosophers kept the secret to themselves. They wanted kings and the public to respect them more—or rather, not to persecute them.

We’re so used to mistaken language that we still call our vapors heaven. We use that name for the space between the Earth and the Moon too. We say “go up to heaven” just as we say the Sun goes around. We know perfectly well that it doesn’t. We’re probably heaven to the Moon’s inhabitants. Each planet puts its heaven on the next planet.

Suppose someone had asked Homer which heaven Sarpedon’s soul went to. Or where Hercules’ soul was. Homer would have been very embarrassed. He would have answered with verse that sounded beautiful.

How could anyone be sure Hercules’ soul of air would feel better on Venus or Saturn than on our globe? Would it have gone into the Sun? That furnace doesn’t look like a place where anyone could stay. In short, what did the ancients mean by heaven? They didn’t know. They kept shouting “heaven and earth.” They might as well have shouted “infinity and an atom.” Strictly speaking, there’s no heaven. Huge numbers of globes move through empty space. Our globe moves like the others.

The ancients thought going into the heavens meant going up. But you don’t go up from one globe to another. The heavenly globes are sometimes above our horizon, sometimes below it. Suppose Venus came to Paphos, then returned to her planet after it had set. The goddess wouldn’t be going up in relation to our horizon. She’d be going down. In that case, people should have said “go down to heaven.” But the ancients didn’t understand such fine points. Their ideas about everything in physics were vague, uncertain, and contradictory. People have written huge volumes to find out what they thought about many such questions. Four words would have been enough: “They did not think.”

We always have to make an exception for a few wise people. But they came late. Few explained their thoughts. When they did, the charlatans on earth sent them to heaven by the shortest route.

A writer called Pluche, I think, tried to present Moses as a great physicist. Someone else had already made Moses agree with Descartes and published the Cartesius Mozaizans. According to him, Moses first invented vortices and subtle matter. But we know well enough what God intended. He made Moses a great lawgiver and prophet, not a physics professor at all. He taught the Jews their duties, not a word of philosophy. Calmet gathered a great deal of material but never reasoned. He talks about the Hebrews’ system. But this crude people was nowhere near having a system. They didn’t even have a school of geometry. They didn’t know its name. Their only science was brokerage and lending money at interest.

Their books contain some muddled, disconnected ideas about how heaven is built. They’re entirely worthy of a barbarous people. Their first heaven was the air. The second was the firmament, with the stars fixed to it. This firmament was solid, made of ice. It held up the upper waters. At the time of the Flood, these escaped from their reservoir through gates, sluices, and floodgates.

Above this firmament, or these upper waters, was the third heaven, or empyrean. Saint Paul was carried up there. The firmament was a kind of half-vault covering the earth. The Sun didn’t go around a globe they knew nothing about. When it reached the west, it returned east by an unknown route. Why didn’t people see it? As the Baron de Feneste says, it came back at night.

And the Hebrews had borrowed these fantasies from other peoples. Most nations, except the Chaldean school, thought the sky was solid. The earth stood fixed and still. From east to west, it was a good third longer than from south to north. That’s where our terms longitude and latitude come from. Clearly, in this view there couldn’t be people on the opposite side of the earth. So Saint Augustine calls the idea of the antipodes an absurdity. Lactantius says outright, “Is anyone mad enough to believe there are people whose heads are lower than their feet? And the rest.”

Saint Chrysostom cries out in his fourteenth homily, “Where are those who claim that the heavens move and that their shape is circular?”

Lactantius also says in Liv. III. of his Institutions, “I could give you many arguments proving that heaven can’t surround the earth.”

The author of the Spectacle de la nature can tell the chevalier this as often as he likes: Lactantius and Saint Chrysostom were great philosophers. People will answer that they were great saints. You don’t have to be a good astronomer to be a saint. People will believe they’re in heaven. But they’ll admit they don’t know exactly which part of heaven.