Moon Lore Part 1

Moon Lore.

by Timothy Harley.

PREFACE

This work is a contribution to light literature, and to the literature of light. Though a monograph, it is also a medley.

The first part is mythological and mirthsome. It is the original nucleus around which the other parts have gathered. Some years since, the writer was led to investigate the world-wide myth of the Man in the Moon, in its legendary and ludicrous aspects; and one study being a stepping-stone to another, the ball was enlarged as it rolled.

The second part, dealing with moon-wors.h.i.+p, is designed to show that anthropomorphism and s.e.xuality have been the princ.i.p.al factors in that idolatry which in all ages has paid homage to the hosts of heaven, as _heaved_ above the aspiring wors.h.i.+pper. Man adores what he regards as higher than he. And if the moon is supposed to affect his tides, that body becomes his water-G.o.d.

The third part treats of lunar superst.i.tions, many of which yet live in the vagaries which sour and shade our modern sweetness and light.

The fourth and final part is a literary essay on lunar inhabitation, presenting _in nuce_ the present state of the enigma of "the plurality of worlds."

Of the imperfections of his production the author is partly conscious. Not _wholly_ so; for others see us often more advantageously than we see ourselves. But a hope is cherished that this work--a compendium of lunar literature in its least scientific branches--may win a welcome which shall const.i.tute the worker's richest reward. To the innumerable writers who are quoted, the indebtedness felt is inexpressible.

MOON SPOTS.

I. INTRODUCTION.

With the invention of the telescope came an epoch in human history. To Hans Lippershey, a Dutch optician, is accorded the honour of having constructed the first astronomical telescope, which he made so early as the 2nd of October, 1608. Galileo, hearing of this new wonder, set to work, and produced and improved instrument, which he carried in triumph to Venice, where it occasioned the intensest delight. Sir David Brewster tells us that "the interest which the exhibition of the telescope excited at Venice did not soon subside: Sirturi describes it as amounting to frenzy.

When he himself had succeeded in making one of these instruments, he ascended the tower of St. Mark, where he might use it without molestation. He was recognised, however, by a crowd in the street, and such was the eagerness of their curiosity, that they took possession of the wondrous tube, and detained the impatient philosopher for several hours till they had successively witnessed its effects." [1] it was in May, 1609, that Galileo turned his telescope on the moon. "The first observations of Galileo," says Flammarion, "did not make less noise than the discovery of America; many saw in them another discovery of a new world much more interesting than America, as it was beyond the earth. It is one of the most curious episodes of history, that of the prodigious excitement which was caused by the unveiling of the world of the moon." [2] Nor are we astonished at their astonishment when they beheld mountains which have since been found to be from 15,000 to 26,000 feet in height--highlands of the moon indeed--far higher in proportion to the moon's diameter than any elevations on the earth; when they saw the surface of the satellite scooped out into deep valleys, or spread over with vast walled plains from 130 to 140 miles across. No wonder that the followers of Aristotle resented the explosion of their preconceived beliefs; for their master had taught that the moon was perfectly spherical and smooth, and that the spots were merely reflections of our own mountains. Other ancient philosophers had said that these patches were shadows of opaque bodies floating between the sun and the moon. But to the credit of Democritus be it remembered that he propounded the opinion that the spots were diversities or inequalities upon the lunar surface; and thus antic.i.p.ated by twenty centuries the disclosures of the telescope. The invention of this invaluable appliance we have regarded as marking a great modern epoch; and what is usually written on the moon is mainly a summary of results obtained through telescopic observation, aided by other apparatus, and conducted by learned men. We now purpose to go back to the ages when there were neither reflectors nor refractors in existence; and to travel beyond the bounds of ascertained fact into the regions of fiction, where abide the shades of superst.i.tion and the dreamy forms of myth.

Having promised a contribution to light literature, we shall give to fancy a free rein, and levy taxes upon poets and story-tellers, wits and humorists wherever they may be of service. Much will have to be said, in the first place, of the man in the moon, whom we must view as he has been manifested in the mask of mirth, and also in the mirror of mythology. Then we shall present the woman in the moon, who is less known than the immortal man. Next a hare will be started; afterwards a frog, and other objects; and when we reach the end of our excursion, if we mistake not, it will be confessed that the moon has created more merriment, more marvel, and more mystery, than all of the other orbs taken together.

But before we forget the fair moon in the society of its famous man, let us soothe our spirits in sweet oblivion of discussions and dissertations, while we survey its argentine glories with poetic rapture. Like Sh.e.l.ley, we are all in love with

"That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon." (_The Cloud_.)

Our little loves, who take the lowest seats in the domestic synagogue, if they cannot have the moon by crying for it, will rush out, when they ought to be in bed, and chant,

"Boys and girls come out to play, The moon doth s.h.i.+ne as bright as day."

The young ladies of the family, without a tincture of affectation, will languish as they gaze on the lovely Luna. Not, as a grumpy, grisly old bear of a bachelor once said, "Because there's a man in it!" No; the precious pets are fond of moonlight rather because they are the daughters of Eve. They are in sympathy with all that is bright and beautiful in the heavens above, and in the earth beneath; and it has even been suspected that the only reason why they ever a.s.sume that invisible round-about called crinoline is that, like the moon, they may move in a circle. Our greatest men, likewise, are susceptible to Luna's blandishments. In proof of this we may produce a story told by Mark Lemon, at one time the able editor of Punch. By the way, an irrepressible propensity to play upon words has reminded some one that punch is always improved by the essence of lemon. But this we leave to the bibulous, and go on with the story. Lord Brougham, speaking of the salary attached to a new judges.h.i.+p, said it was all moons.h.i.+ne. Lord Lyndhurst, in his dry and waggish way, remarked, "May be so, my Lord Harry; but I have a strong notion that, moons.h.i.+ne though it be, you would like to see the _first quarter_ of it." [3] That Hibernian was a discriminating admirer of the moon who said that the sun was a coward, because he always went away as soon as it began to grow dark, and never came back till it was light again; while the blessed moon stayed with us through the forsaken night. And now, feeling refreshed with these exhilarating meditations, we, for awhile, leave this lovable orb to those astronomical stars who have studied the heavens from their earliest history; and hasten to make ourselves acquainted with the proper study of mankind, the ludicrous and legendary lunar man.

II. THE MAN IN THE MOON.

We must not be misunderstood. By the man in the moon we do not mean any public tavern, or gin-palace, displaying that singular sign.

The last inn of that name known to us in London stands in a narrow pa.s.sage of that fas.h.i.+onable promenade called Regent Street, close to Piccadilly. Nor do we intend by the man in the moon the silvery individual who pays the election expenses, so long as the elector votes his ticket. Neither do we mean the mooney, or mad fellow who is too fond of the cup which cheers and then inebriates; nor even one who goes mooning round the world without a plan or purpose. No; if we are not too scientific, we are too straightforward to be allured by any such false lights as these. By the man in the moon we mean none other than that ill.u.s.trious personage, whose s.h.i.+ning countenance may be beheld many a night, clouds and fogs permitting, beaming good-naturedly on the dark earth, and singing, in the language of a lyric bard,

"The moon is out to-night, love, Meet me with a smile."

But some sceptic may a.s.sail us with a note of interrogation, saying, "Is there a man in the moon?" "Why, of course, there is!" Those who have misgivings should ask a sailor; he knows, for the punsters a.s.sure us that he has been to _sea_. Or let them ask any _lunatic_; he should know, for he has been so _struck_ with his acquaintance, that he has adopted the man's name. Or ask any little girl in the nursery, and she will recite, with sweet simplicity, how

"The man in the moon Came down too soon, And asked the way to Norwich."

The darling may not understand why he sought that venerable city, nor whether he ever arrived there, but she knows very well that

"He went by the south, And burnt his mouth With eating hot pease porridge."

But it is useless to inquire of any stupid joker, for he will idly say that there is no such man there, because, forsooth, a certain single woman who was sent to the moon came back again, which she would never have done if a man had been there with whom she could have married and remained, Nor should any one be misled by those blind guides who darkly hint that it is all moons.h.i.+ne. There is not an Indian moonshee, nor a citizen of the Celestial Empire, some of whose ancestors came from the nocturnal orb, who does not know better than that. Perhaps the wisest course is to inquire within.

Have not we all frequently affirmed that we knew no more about certain inscrutable matters than the man in the moon? Now we would never have committed ourselves to such a comparison had we not been sure that the said man was a veritable and creditable, though somewhat uninstructed person. But our feelings ought not to be wrought upon in this way. We "had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, than such a Roman" as is not at least distantly acquainted with that brilliant character in high life who careers so conspicuously amid the constellations which const.i.tute the upper ten thousand of super-mundane society. And now some inquisitive individual may be impatient to interrupt our eloquence with the question, "What are you going to make of the man in the moon?"

Well, we are not going to make anything of him. For, first, he is a man; therefore incapable of improvement. Secondly, he is in the moon, and that is out of our reach. [*] All that we can promise just now is, to furnish a few particulars of the man himself; some account of calls which he is reported to have made to his friends here below; and also some account of visits which his friends on earth have paid him in return.

[*] Besides, as old John Lilly says in the prologue to his _Endymion_ (1591), "There liveth none under the sunne, that knows what to make of the man in the moone."

We know something of his residence, whenever he is at home: what do we know of the man? We have been annoyed at finding his lofty name desecrated to base uses. If "imagination may trace the n.o.ble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole," literature traces the man in the moon, and discovers him pressed into the meanest services. Our readers need not be disquieted with details; though our own equanimity has been sorely disturbed as we have seen scribblers dragging from the skies a "name at which the world grows pale, to point a moral, or adorn a tale." Political squibs, paltry chapbooks, puny satires, and penny imbecilities, too numerous for mention here, with an occasional publication of merit, have been printed and sold at the expense of the man in the moon. For the sake of the curious we place the t.i.tles and dates of some of these in an appendix and pa.s.s on. We have not learned very many particulars relating to the domestic habits or personal character of the man in the moon, consequently our smallest biographical contributions will be thankfully received. We must not be pressed for his photograph, at present. We certainly wish it could have been procured; but though photography has taken some splendid views of the

[Ill.u.s.tration: moon02]

_Geo. Cruikshank_. Hone's "_Facetiae_," 1821.

THE MAN IN THE MOON

"If Caesar can hide the sun with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light" (_Cymbeline_).

face of the moon, it has not yet produced any perfect picture of the physiognomy of the man. It should always be borne in mind that, as Stilpo says in the old play of _Timon_, written about 1600, "The man in the moone is not in the moone superficially, although he bee in the moone (as the Greekes will have it) catapodially, specificatively, and quidditatively." [4] This beautiful language, let us explain for the behoof of any foreign reader, simply means that he is not always where we can get at him; and therefore his venerable visage is missing from our celestial portrait gallery. One fact we have found out, which we fear will ripple the pure water placidity of some of our best friends; but the truth must be told.

"Our man in the moon drinks clarret, With powder-beef, turnep, and carret.

If he doth so, why should not you Drink until the sky looks blew?" [5]

Another old ballad runs:

"The man in the moon drinks claret, But he is a dull Jack-a-Dandy; Would he know a sheep's head from a carrot, He should learn to drink cyder and brandy."

In a _Jest Book of the Seventeenth Century_ we came across the following story: "A company of gentlemen coming into a tavern, whose signe was the Moone, called for a quart of sacke. The drawer told them they had none; whereat the gentlemen wondring were told by the drawer that the man in the moon always drunke claret." [6]

Several astronomers a.s.sert the absence of water in the moon; if this be the case, what is the poor man to drink? Still, it is an unsatisfactory announcement to us all; for we are afraid that it is the claret which makes him look so red in the face sometimes when he is full, and gets a little fogged. We have ourselves seen

[Ill.u.s.tration: moon03]

"THE MAN IN THE MOON DRINKS CLARET."

"_Bagford Ballads_," ii. 119.

him actually what sailors call "half-seas over," when we have been in mid-Atlantic. We only hope that he imbibes nothing stronger, though it is said that moonlight is but another name for smuggled spirits. The lord of Cynthia must not be too hastily suspected, for, at most, the moon fills her horn but once a month. Still, the earth itself being so invariably sober, its satellite, like Caesar's wife, should be above suspicion. We therefore hope that our lunar hero may yet take a ribbon of sky-blue from the milky way, and become a staunch abstainer; if only for example's sake.

Some old authors and artists have represented the

[Ill.u.s.tration: moon04]

BANKS' COLLECTION OF SHOP BILLS.

man in the moon as an inveterate smoker, which habit surprises us, who supposed him to be

"Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth,"