II
It seems ironic that one of the last voyages to employ
the supernatural as a
device for journeying to the moon
should have been the work of a great
scientist. Johann
Kepler's Somnium was published
posthumously in
1634, though it had been written much earlier. Kepler
had hesitated to publish it during his lifetime since it
contained veiled
references to his mother who had been
condemned as a witch and would have
been executed
had it not been for the heroic efforts of her son. As
the title indicates, the work was in the form of a dream.
The author says
that while he had been reading Bohe-
mian
legends, he fell into deep sleep, and dreamed that
he was reading a book on
magic. The story concerns
a young man named Duracotus, whose mother was
a
“wise woman,” who supported herself and her son
by
selling mariners little bags of herbs containing charms.
Upon one
occasion when her young son pried too
curiously into the bags, Fioxhilda, a
woman of un-
governable temper, gave the
boy to a sea-captain in
place of one of the bags. Duracotus—a
disguise for
Kepler himself—made a voyage to Denmark with
the
captain. He was set ashore to deliver letters to the
astronomer
Tycho Brahe, with whom Kepler actually
spent several years at the
observatory, Uraniborg,
learning the principles of astronomy. After five
years
Duracotus returned home to find that his mother had
long
repented her rashness. He discovered that she
knew as much astronomy as he
did, since she was in
league with the “daemons of
Levania,” spirits of the
moon, whom she could call and with whom
an occa-
sional mortal travelled to the moon.
From the daemon who appeared at his mother's
summons, Duracotus learned that
mortals who trav-
elled to the moon were given
a “dozing draught,” so
that they remembered few
details of the journey.
Although this still sounds like magic, it was not.
Kepler
was pondering the effect of gravity upon a human body
as it
left the “attractive power” of the earth, consider-
ing too the probable effects of
rarefied air upon human
physique. He considered
“weightlessness,” since once
the daemons had lifted
their passenger above the “at-
tractive power,” they needed no extra force but carried
the passenger without effort.
Fantasy and realism are mingled in the first part of
the Somnium, but when Duracotus reaches the moon,
fantasy falls away
and we find ourselves on the moon
Galileo had seen through his tube.
Seasons, length of
days and nights, climates are different from
anything
known on earth. The moon-world is divided into two
zones, “Subvolva” and
“Privolva.” In Privolva, “night
is 15 or
16 days long, and dreadful with uninterrupted
shadow.” No sun or
moon shines there. All is intensely
cold. In Subvolva the situation is less
drastic, thanks
to “Volva,” the moon, yet the cold is
more extreme,
the heat more intense than anything experienced by
man
in this world. The terrain is much like that of
earth, but the mountains
tower to heights higher than
Everest, the declivities are more profound
than any
terrestrial Grand Canyon.
In one detail Kepler departed from Galileo, since
he continued to posit
atmosphere on the moon, and
believed that certain forms of life were
possible. There
is nothing corresponding to human life in Subvolva,
but there are plants and animals. Some appear at dawn,
only to die at
night. Others seem to bask in the hot
sun, then disappear into the caverns
as evening comes.
The animals are of serpentine nature, like great
lizards
or antediluvian monsters. The Somnium is a
dream
with nightmare touches, the scale of everything on
exaggerated
size, the lunar terrain forbidding and the
prehistoric creatures monstrous.
The influence of the Somnium continued well down
through the nineteenth century. There are reminis-
cences of its moon-world in Jules Verne's From the
Earth to the Moon (1865), although Verne's
is a dead
world; if ever life existed there, it was in the remote
past, and is now extinct. The last specific reminiscences
to be found are
in H. G. Wells, The First Men in the
Moon (1900).
Wells's lunar landscape reflects Kepler's,
particularly in its mingling of
beauty and terror. Wells
posits the existence of vegetation growing to
incredible
heights in a single lunar day. When Bedford and Cavor
land,
they think the moon lifeless, but as they watch
at dawn, what had seemed to
be dry sticks and pebbles
prove to be seeds, showing lines of yellowish
green.
The arid land becomes a combination of desert and
jungle, with
plants and flowers growing in lush profu-
sion. When the lunar explorers are seized and thrown
into
subterranean caverns, Cavor's mind goes back to
his reading.
“Yes,” he said, “Kepler with his subvolvani
was right after all.”
The idea of a supernatural voyage continued for
some time, particularly
among Roman Catholic writers
such as Athanasius Kircher (1601-80) an
important
Jesuit traveller, Egyptologist, and scientist, whose Itin-
erarum
exstaticum is in the tradition. The hero The-
odidactus set off with an angel guide upon a cosmic
tour as part of his education, an idea which Voltaire
perhaps picked up in
his Micromégas. But the only
supernatural
voyage that can vie with Kepler's in liter-
ary
merit is Milton's in Paradise Lost, in which there
are Keplerian reminiscences. When a group of fallen
angels set out to chart
the new world into which they
have fallen (II. 570-628), they find “fierce
extremes,
extremes by change more fierce,” heat and cold, tow-
ering mountains and caverns vaster than any
known
on earth, “a frozen continent... beat with perpetual
storms... a gulf profound as that Serbonian bog.”
Here the
“parching air Burns frore, and cold performs
the effect of
fire”:
Through many a dark and dreary vale
They passed, and many a region dolorous,
O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp,
Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and
shades of death...
Where all life dies, death lives, and Nature
breeds,
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things.
In the meantime Satan, travelling in a different
direction, has met Sin and
Death, and arrives at the
gates of Hell (II. 629-1055; III. 540-742). When
Sin
opens the doors, even the intrepid Satan is momentarily
appalled,
but after his first amazement
his sail-broad vans
He spreads for flight, and, in the surging smoke
Uplifted spurns the ground; thence many a league,
As in a cloudy chair ascending rides
Audacious.
Satan was surprised to find that the intervening air was
“neither sea, nor good dry land,” requiring him to
make
use of every part of his body for navigation:
O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough,
dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues
his way,
And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps,
or flies.
Satan's is a cosmic rather than a moon-voyage. Unlike
many mariners he
did not pause at the moon. He takes
His flight precipitant, and winds with ease
Through the pure marble air his oblique way
Amongst innumerable stars, that shone
Stars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds.
He proceeds to the sun, where an astronomer observing
him would have
taken him for another of Galileo's
sunspots. The world of the sun Satan
found “beyond
expression bright.” Within the light he
saw “a glorious
angel stand,” the archangel Uriel.
From him Satan
learns about the new world which God has created
for
man, to take the place of the fallen angels. The
unsuspecting Uriel gives
him directions, and Satan
completes his cosmic journey by landing in
This little world, in bigness like a star
Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.