Observations concerning the drawings of Jupiter.

— We are including in this issue of the Review, as we had announced, the drawing of a dwelling on Jupiter, executed and engraved by Mr. Victorien Sardou as a medium, to which we add the descriptive article he was kind enough to write about it. Whatever may be the opinion, regarding the authenticity of these descriptions, of those who might accuse us of concerning ourselves with what happens in unknown worlds when there is so much to do on Earth, we beg our readers not to lose sight of the fact that our purpose, as the subtitle of the review indicates, is above all the study of phenomena, and that nothing therefore should be neglected. Now, as a fact of manifestation, these drawings are incontestably among the most remarkable, if we consider that the author knows neither how to draw nor how to engrave, and that the drawing we offer was engraved by him in etching, without model or prior practice, in nine hours. Supposing this drawing to be a fantasy of the Spirit who traced it, the mere fact of its execution would be no less a phenomenon worthy of attention, and on that account it falls to our collection to make it known, along with the description the Spirits gave us of it, not to satisfy the vain curiosity of frivolous persons, but as an object of study for all who may wish to delve deeply into all the mysteries of the spiritist science. He would be mistaken who believed that we make the revelation of unknown worlds the capital object of the doctrine; for us that would constitute nothing more than an accessory, which we deem useful as a complement to study. For us, the essential will always be the moral teaching, so that in the communications from beyond the grave we seek above all that which may enlighten Humanity and lead it to the good, the only means of assuring it happiness in this world and in the other. Could one not say the same of astronomers, who likewise probe the spaces, and ask what would be the usefulness, for the good of Humanity, of their being able to calculate with rigorous precision the parabola of an invisible star? Not all sciences have an eminently practical interest; nevertheless, it occurs to no one to treat them with disdain, because everything that broadens the circle of ideas contributes to progress. The same holds for spiritist communications, even though they escape the cramped circle of our personality.

DWELLINGS OF THE PLANET JUPITER.

[Victorien Sardou.]

If there is a fact that gives rise to perplexity among certain persons convinced of the existence of the Spirits — we shall not concern ourselves here with the others — it is surely the existence of dwellings in their cities, just as occurs among us. I was not spared criticism: “Houses of Spirits on Jupiter!… What a joke!…” — So be it, I have nothing to do with it. If the reader does not find here, in the verisimilitude of the explanations, a sufficient proof of their truthfulness; if, like us, he is not struck by the perfect agreement of the spiritist revelations with the most positive data of astronomical science; in a word, if he sees nothing but a clever mystification in the details that follow and in the drawing that accompanies them, I invite him to ask explanation of the Spirits, of whom I am only the instrument and the faithful echo. Let him evoke Palissy or Mozart, or another inhabitant of that blessed world; let them be questioned, let my affirmations be checked against theirs; let him, in short, argue with them. As for me, I merely present what was given to me, repeating only what was told to me. And by this absolutely passive role, I believe myself sheltered from both censure and praise. This reservation made, and once confidence in the Spirits is admitted, if one accepts as true the only truly beautiful and wise doctrine that the evocation of the Spirits has revealed to us up to now, that is, the migration of souls from planet to planet, their successive incarnations and their incessant progress through work, the dwellings of Jupiter should no longer cause us astonishment. Since the Spirit incarnates in a world subjected, like ours, to a double revolution, that is, to the alternation of days and nights and to the periodic return of the seasons; since it has a body, however fragile that material envelope may be, it demands not only food and clothing, but also a shelter or, at least, a place of repose, and consequently a house. Indeed, this is exactly what was told to us. Like us, and better than us, the inhabitants of Jupiter have their common homes and their families, harmonious groups of sympathetic Spirits, united in triumph after having been so in the struggle. Hence dwellings so spacious that we may deservedly call them palaces. Like us, again, these Spirits have their festivals, their ceremonies, their public gatherings, which explains the existence of buildings specially destined to those ends. Finally, we must find in those superior regions a whole Humanity, active and laborious like ours, subjected like us to laws, needs and duties, with the sole difference that progress, rebellious to our efforts, becomes an easy conquest for the Spirits who have already divested themselves of our terrestrial vices. I ought to occupy myself here only with the architecture of their dwellings; nevertheless, for the exact understanding of the details that follow, a word of explanation will not be useless. If Jupiter is accessible only to good Spirits, it does not follow that all its inhabitants are excellent to the same degree: between the goodness of the simple person and the man of genius, one is permitted to count several shades. Now, the whole social organization of that superior world rests precisely upon the varieties of intelligence and aptitudes, the high direction of their planet falling to the superior Spirits, to the most purified, by effect of harmonious laws whose explanation it would be too long to present here. This supremacy does not stop there, but extends even to the inferior worlds, where these Spirits, by their influence, incessantly favor and quicken the religious progress, generator of all the rest. It must be added that for these purified Spirits there would be none but intellectual labors, for their activities are exercised only in the domain of thought, and they have already conquered enough dominion over matter to be only weakly hindered by it in the free exercise of their will. The body of these Spirits, like that of all who inhabit Jupiter, moreover, is of a density so light that it finds a term of comparison only in the imponderable fluids: a little larger than ours, whose form it reproduces exactly, though purer and more beautiful, it would present itself to us under the appearance of a vapor, a term I employ reluctantly, because it designates a substance still very gross; of a vapor, I was saying, impalpable and luminous… luminous above all in the contours of the face and the head, for there intelligence and life radiate like a very ardent focus. And it is precisely this magnetic brilliance, glimpsed by the Christian visionaries, that our painters have rendered by the nimbus or halo of the saints. It is understood that such a body in no way hinders the extra-mundane communications of these Spirits, allowing them, on their planet, a prompt and easy displacement. It frees itself so easily from planetary attraction, and its density differs so little from that of the atmosphere, that it can stir within it, come and go, descend or ascend at the caprice of the Spirit and with no other effort than the will. Thus, some of the personages that Palissy was kind enough to have me draw are represented lightly touching the ground or the surface of the waters, or else quite elevated in the air, with that entire freedom of action and movement which we attribute to the angels. The more purified the Spirit, the easier is this locomotion, which is conceived without difficulty; nothing, too, is easier for the inhabitants of the planet than to assess, at first glance, the worth of a Spirit who passes by; two signs will speak for him: the height of his flight and the more or less brilliant light of his halo. On Jupiter, as everywhere, those who soar highest are the rarest; below them, one must count several layers of Spirits inferior, both in virtue and in power, but naturally free to equal them one day, when they perfect themselves. Ranked and classified according to their merits, these devote themselves more particularly to the works that concern the planet itself, not exercising over the inferior worlds the all-powerful authority of the first. It is true that they respond to an evocation, through wise and good revelations, but by the promptness they show in leaving us and by the laconism of their words, it is easy to understand that they have much to do elsewhere, and that they are not yet sufficiently detached to make themselves radiate simultaneously at two points so distant from one another. Finally, following the least perfect of these Spirits, but separated from them by an abyss, come the animals which, as the only servants and the only workers of the planet, deserve a very special mention. If we designate by the name of animals the bizarre beings who occupy the base of the scale, it is because the Spirits themselves employed it, and also because our language has no better term to offer us. This designation degrades them rather much; to call them men, however, would be to grant them too much honor; in fact, they are Spirits vowed to animality, perhaps for a long time or, who knows, forever. Nevertheless, not all the Spirits are in agreement on this point, and the solution of the problem seems to belong to worlds more elevated than Jupiter [see The Spirits' Book n.º 114 and following]; whatever their future may be, however, there is no ambiguity about their past. Before going there, these Spirits emigrated successively in our inferior worlds, from the body of one animal to that of another, through a perfectly graduated scale of perfecting. The attentive study of our terrestrial animals, their habits, their individual characteristics, their ferocity far from man and their slow but always possible domestication, all sufficiently indicates the reality of this animal ascension. In this manner, in whatever direction we turn, the harmony of the Universe always sums itself up in a single law: progress, everywhere and for all, for the animal as for the plant, for the plant as for the mineral; progress purely material, at first, in the insensible molecules of the metal or the pebble, to become more and more intelligent as we ascend the scale of beings and as individuality tends to disentangle itself from the mass, to assert itself, to know itself. An elevated and consoling thought, never imagined before, for it proves to us that nothing is sacrificed, that the reward is always proportional to the progress accomplished; the devotion of the dog, for example, which dies for its master, is not sterile for its Spirit, whose just wage it shall receive beyond this world.

Such is the case of the animal Spirits that populate Jupiter; they perfected themselves at the same time as we did, with us and with our aid. The law is more admirable still: it makes so well of their devotion to man the first condition of their planetary ascension, that the will of a Spirit of Jupiter can call to itself any animal that, in one of its previous lives, gave it proofs of affection. These sympathies, which up there form families of Spirits, also group around the families a whole retinue of devoted animals. In consequence, our attachment in this world to an animal, the care we take to domesticate it and to humanize it, all this has its reason for being, all will be repaid: it is a good helper that we prepare in advance for a better world.

It will thus be a workman, for to its fellows is reserved all material labor, all bodily task: burden or heavy works, sowing or harvest. And for all this the Supreme Intelligence prepared a body that partakes at once of the advantages of the animal and of man. We can form an estimate from the sketch by Palissy, representing some of these animals very intent on playing ball. I could compare them no better than to the fauns and the satyrs of Fable; the body, lightly hairy, is nevertheless upright like ours; among some the paws have disappeared, giving place to certain legs that still recall the primitive form, the two robust arms, singularly set and terminated by true hands, if we take into account the opposition of the thumbs. A bizarre thing: the head is not so perfected as the rest! In this way, the physiognomy indeed reflects something human, but the cranium, the jaw and, above all, the ear present no perceptible differences in relation to the terrestrial animals. It is therefore easy to distinguish them among themselves: this one is a dog, that one is a lion. Suitably clad in blouses and garments very similar to ours, they lack only speech to recall quite closely certain men here; this is precisely what they lack and what they could not do. Skillful at understanding one another, by means of a language that has nothing of ours, they no longer err about the intentions of the Spirits who command them: a glance, a gesture suffices. At certain magnetic shocks, the secret of which our tamers of beasts already know, the animal divines and obeys without murmur and, better still, with good will, because it is fascinated. It is in this manner that all the heavy task is imposed upon it and that, with its aid, everything functions regularly from one end of the social scale to the other: the elevated Spirit thinks and deliberates, the inferior spirit acts on its own initiative and the animal executes. Thus, the conception, the execution and the deed unite in one and the same harmony, bringing all things to a quicker solution, by the simplest and surest means. We beg pardon for this digression: it was indispensable to the subject that we can now approach.

While we await the promised maps, which will singularly facilitate the study of the whole planet, we can, from the descriptions made by the Spirits, form an idea of their great city, of the city par excellence, of that focus of light and of activity which they agree, strangely, in designating by the Latin name of Julnius.

“In the largest of our continents — says Palissy — in a valley seven to eight hundred leagues wide, to reckon as you do, a magnificent river descends from the mountains of the north and, swollen by a quantity of torrents and brooks, forms in its course seven or eight lakes, of which the smallest would deserve among you the name of sea. It was upon the shores of the largest of these lakes, baptized by us with the name of Pearl, that our ancestors laid the first foundations of Julnius. This primitive city still exists, venerated and guarded as a precious relic. Its architecture differs greatly from yours. I will explain all this to you in due time; for now, know that the modern city is only some hundreds of meters below the ancient one. Bounded between high mountains, the lake pours into the valley by eight enormous cataracts, which form so many isolated currents dispersed in every direction. With the aid of these currents, we dug in the plain a quantity of streams, canals and small lakes, reserving the dry land only for our houses and gardens. From this resulted a kind of amphibious city, like your Venice, and of which, at first sight, one could not say whether it is built on the land or upon the water. I will tell you nothing today of four sacred buildings, constructed upon the very slope of the cataracts, so that the water gushes in torrents from their porticoes: they are works that would seem to you incredible in grandeur and in audacity. “It is the terrestrial city that I describe here, in a certain sense material, the city of planetary occupations, the one that we call, in short, the Lower City. It has its streets or, rather, its paths traced for the internal service; it has its public squares, its porticoes and its bridges thrown over canals for the passage of the servants. But the intelligent city, the spiritual city, the true Julnius, finally, is not found on the Earth: one must seek it in the air.

“The material body of the animals incapable of flying needs dry land; but what our fluidic and luminous body requires is an aerial dwelling like itself, almost impalpable and movable at our pleasure. Our skill resolved this problem, aided by time and by the privileged conditions that the Great Architect had granted us. You understand well that this conquest of the airs was indispensable to Spirits such as ours. Our day has the duration of five hours, and our night likewise lasts the same time; but everything is relative and, for beings apt to think and to act as we do, for Spirits who understand one another by the language of the eyes and who know how to communicate magnetically at a distance, our day of five hours would already equal one of your weeks. In our opinion it was still very little; and the immobility of the dwelling, the fixed point of the home were an impediment to all our great works. Today, by the rapid displacement of these dwellings of birds, by the possibility of transporting ourselves, as well as our own, to such or such address of the planet and at the hour of the day that pleases us, our existence has at least doubled and, with it, all that can be conceived of the useful and the grandiose. “At certain epochs of the year — adds the Spirit — at certain festivals, for example, you will see here the sky darkened by the cloud of dwellings that comes to us from all the points of the horizon. It is a curious aggregate of slender, graceful, light dwellings, of all forms, of all colors, balanced at different heights and continually on the march, from the lower city to the celestial city: some days later, the void forms little by little and all these birds disappear.

“Nothing is lacking in these floating abodes, not even the charm of greenery and of flowers. I refer to a vegetation that finds no parallel among you, of plants and even of shrubs that, by the nature of their organs, breathe, feed themselves, live and reproduce in the air.

“We have — says the same Spirit again — those tufts of enormous flowers, whose forms and shades you cannot even imagine, and of a tissue so delicate in lightness that it renders them almost transparent. Swaying in the air, sustained by large leaves and furnished with tendrils similar to those of the vine, they gather into clouds of a thousand tonalities or disperse at the whim of the wind, offering an enchanting spectacle to the wayfarers of the lower city… Imagine the grace of these rafts of greenery, of these floating gardens that our will can make and unmake and that, sometimes, last a whole season! Long rows of lianas and of flowering branches detach themselves from these heights and hang down to the ground; enormous clusters stir, shedding their petals and releasing perfume… The Spirits who move about in the air stop in passing: it is a place of repose and of meeting, or, if we wish, a means of transport to finish the journey without fatigue and in good company.” Another Spirit was seated upon one of these flowers at the moment I evoked him. He said to me: “At this instant it is night in Julnius, and I find myself seated at a distance upon one of these aerial flowers that here blossom only by the clarity of our moons. Beneath my feet, the whole lower city is given over to sleep; above my head and around me, however, and as far as the eye can see, there is nothing but movement and joy in space. We sleep little: our soul is too detached for the needs of the body to tyrannize it, and the night is made more for our servants than for us. It is the hour of visits and of long conversations, of solitary walks, of reveries, of music… I see only aerial abodes, resplendent with light, or garlands of leaves and flowers laden with joyful throngs… The first of our moons illuminates the whole lower city: it is a soft light, comparable to that of your moonlights; but, beside the lake, the second rises, emitting greenish reflections that give to the whole river the aspect of a vast meadow…” It is upon the right bank of this river, says the Spirit, “whose water would offer you the consistency of a light vapor,” that is built the house of Mozart, which through my intermediary Palissy was good enough to reproduce upon the copper. I present here only the south facade. The great entrance is to the left, giving onto the plain; to the right is the river; the gardens are located to the north and to the south. I asked Mozart who were his neighbors. — “Further up — he said — and further down, two Spirits whom you do not know; further to the left, only a great meadow separates me from the garden of Cervantes.”

Like ours, then, the house has four faces, though we would err were we to make of this a general rule. It is built with a certain stone that the animals extract from the quarries of the north and whose color the Spirit compares to those greenish tones that the blue of the sky often takes at the moment when the sun sets. As for its rigidity, we can form an idea from this observation of Palissy's: “that it would melt under the pressure of our human fingers as quickly as a flake of snow; even so, it is still one of the most resistant materials of the planet! In these walls the Spirits sculpted or incrusted strange arabesques, which the drawing seeks to reproduce. They are ornaments engraved in the stone and colored afterward, or incrustations that restore the solidity of the green stone, through a process that at present enjoys great popularity and that in the plants preserves all the grace of their contours, all the delicacy of their tissues, all the richness of their coloring. And the Spirit adds: “A discovery that you will make some day and that among you will change many things.” The great window on the right presents an example of this kind of ornamentation: one of its edges is nothing more than an enormous reed, whose leaves were preserved. The same occurs in the crowning of the principal window, which affects the form of the treble clef: they are sarmentous plants, intertwined and incrusted. It is by this process that they obtain the greater part of the crowning of the buildings, gates, balusters, etc. Often the plant is placed in the wall with its roots and in conditions to grow freely. It grows and develops; its flowers blossom at random, and the artist incrusted them in place only when they had acquired all the development required for the ornamentation of the building: the house of Palissy is decorated almost entirely in this manner.

Destined at first only to the furniture, then to the frames of doors and windows, this kind of ornament perfected itself little by little and ended by invading all the architecture. Today, one incrusts not only the flowers and the shrubs, but the tree itself, from the root to the crown; and the palaces, like the buildings, practically have no other columns.

An incrustation of the same nature also serves to decorate the windows. Very large flowers or leaves are skillfully stripped of their fleshy part, leaving only a bundle of fibers as fine as the finest muslin. They crystallize them; and from these leaves assembled with art, a whole window is constructed, which filters into the interior only a very soft light; or, again, they are coated with a kind of liquefied glass colored in all the shades, which crystallizes in the air, transforming the leaf into a kind of windowpane. From the disposition of these leaves in the windows result enchanting bouquets, transparent and luminous!

As for the dimensions of these openings and a thousand other details that may surprise at first sight, I find myself forced to postpone the explanation: the history of architecture on Jupiter would demand a whole volume. I also renounce speaking of the furnishings, in order to confine myself here solely to the general disposition of the house.

The reader must have understood, from all that precedes, that the house of the continent must be for the Spirit no more than a kind of provisional lodging. The lower city is almost only frequented by Spirits of the second order, charged with the planetary interests — agriculture, for example, or the exchanges, and the good order that must be maintained among the servants. In this way, all the houses situated on the ground have only the ground floor and the upper floor: one destined for the Spirits who act under the direction of the master, and accessible to the animals; the other, reserved solely for the Spirit, who resides there only occasionally. This is what explains the fact that we see, in the various dwellings of Jupiter, in this one, for example, and in that of Zoroaster, a staircase and even a ramp. He who skims the water, like the swallow, and who can run over the stalks of the wheat without bending them, manages very well without the staircase and without the ramp to enter his house; but the inferior Spirits do not have so easy a flight; they elevate themselves only by jolts and the ramp is not always useless to them. Finally, the staircase is of absolute necessity for the animal-servants, who only walk as we do. These last have their pavilions, very elegant, moreover, and which form part of all the great dwellings; but their functions call them constantly to the house of the master: it is necessary to facilitate their entrance and their interior passage. Hence these bizarre constructions, whose base much recalls our terrestrial buildings, but differing from them completely in the upper part. This last is distinguished, above all, by an originality that we would be absolutely incapable of imitating. It is a kind of aerial spire that sways at the top of the building, above the great window and its singular crowning. This frail topmast, easy to be displaced, is destined, in the thought of the artist, not to leave the place assigned to it because, without resting on anything in the upper part, it completes its decoration; I regret that the dimension of the plate did not permit it to find a place there. As for the aerial abode of Mozart, I merely note its existence: the limits of this article do not permit me to extend myself upon this subject.

I will not finish, however, without giving explanations concerning the kind of ornaments that the great artist chose for his abode. In them it is easy to recognize the remembrance of our terrestrial music: the treble clef is there frequently reproduced and, a bizarre thing, never the bass clef! In the decoration of the ground floor, we find a bow, a kind of theorbo or mandolin, a lyre and a complete staff of music. Higher up, it is a great window that vaguely recalls the form of an organ; the others have the appearance of large notes, while smaller notes are abundant all over the facade.

It would be an error to conclude that the music of Jupiter is comparable to ours, and that it is represented by the same signs: Mozart explained himself on this, in a manner that leaves no doubt; but in the decoration of their houses the Spirits recall, with pleasure, the terrestrial mission that earned them the incarnation on Jupiter and that best sums up the character of their intelligence. Thus, in the residence of Zoroaster, the stars and the flame constitute the only details of the decoration.

There is more; it seems that this symbolism has its rules and its secrets. Not all these ornaments are disposed at random: they have their logical order and their precise signification; but it is an art that the Spirits of Jupiter renounce making us understand, at least up to now, and on which they do not explain themselves willingly. Our old architects also employed symbolism in the decoration of their cathedrals; the tower of Saint Jacques is nothing but a hermetic poem, if we are to believe tradition. There is nothing, then, for us to be astonished at in the originality of the architectural decoration on Jupiter: if it contradicts our ideas about human art, it is that, indeed, there exists a complete abyss between an architecture that lives and speaks, and the primitivism of ours, which expresses nothing. In this, as in anything else, prudence forbids us that error of the relative, which would reduce everything to the proportions and the habits of terrestrial man. If the inhabitants of Jupiter dwelt as we do, ate, lived, slept and walked as we do, there would be no great advantage in ascending up there. It is precisely because their planet differs greatly from ours that we desire to know it and to dream of it as our future abode! For my part, I will not have wasted my time and I shall be very happy to have been chosen by the Spirits as interpreter, if their drawings and inscriptions inspire in a single believer the desire to rise more quickly toward Julnius, and the courage to do everything to achieve it.

Victorien Sardou.

— The author of this interesting description is one of those fervent and enlightened adepts who do not fear to confess their beliefs proudly and who place themselves above the criticism of persons who believe in nothing that escapes their circle of ideas. To link one's name to a new doctrine, braving sarcasms, is a courage that is not given to everyone; for this reason, we congratulate Mr. V. Sardou. His work reveals the distinguished writer who, though still young, has already won an honorable place in literature, allying to the talent of writing the profound knowledge of a scholar, an evident proof that Spiritism does not recruit its proselytes among fools and the ignorant. We make vows that Mr. Sardou complete as soon as possible his work, begun in such good time. If the astronomers unveil to us, by their wise researches, the mechanism of the Universe; by their revelations the Spirits make known to us its moral state, and this, as they say, with the aim of stimulating us to the good, in order that we may deserve a better existence.

DRAWING OF THE HOUSE OF MOZART ON JUPITER.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE DRAWING OF THE HOUSE OF MOZART.

[Review of September 1858.]

— One of our subscribers wrote us the following, concerning the drawing that we published in our last issue:

“The author of the article [Victorien Sardou] says: The treble clef is there frequently repeated and, a bizarre thing, never the bass clef. It seems to me that the eyes of the medium would not have perceived all the details of the rich drawing that his hand executed, for a musician assures us that it is easy to recognize, upright and inverted, the bass clef in the ornamentation of the base of the building, into the midst of which plunges the lower part of the bow of the violin, as well as in the prolongation of that ornamentation, to the left of the tip of the theorbo. Moreover, the same musician maintains that the ancient form of the C clef also appears in the flagstones that border the staircase on the right.”

Observation. — We insert this observation with all the greater satisfaction as it proves how far the thought of the medium remained alien to the making of the drawing. Examining the details of the parts indicated, one recognizes, in effect, the bass and C clefs, with which the author, though he did not suspect it, ornamented his drawing. When we see him working, we easily perceive the absence of any premeditated conception and of any will of his own; dragged along by a strange force, his hand imparts to the pencil or to the burin the most irregular movement, contrary to the precepts of the most elementary art, gliding without cease with incredible rapidity, from one extremity of the plate to the other, without interruption, to return a hundred times to the same point. All the parts are thus begun and at the same time continued, without any of them being completed until another is begun, resulting, at first sight, in an incoherent whole, whose purpose is understood only when everything is finished. This singular proceeding is not peculiar to Mr. Sardou; we have seen all the medium draftsmen proceeding in the same manner. We knew a lady, a painter of merit and a teacher of drawing, who enjoyed this faculty. When she draws as a medium she operates, in spite of herself, against all the rules, through a process that it would be impossible for her to follow when she works under her own inspiration and in her normal state. Her pupils, she said, would laugh a great deal if she taught them to draw in the manner of the Spirits. [See:

Jupiter and some other worlds; idem: Bernard Palissy.]

Allan Kardec.

Paris. Typ. of COSSON ET Cie, rue du Four-Saint-Germain, 43.

[1] Translator's Note: See photographic reproduction of the said drawing on the following page, in reduced size. (This facsimile ceased to be published in the later reprints of the Spiritist Review of 1858.)

[2] Nevertheless, it is necessary to except certain animals provided with wings, reserved for the aerial services and for the tasks that, among us, would require the use of timberwork for construction. It is a transformation of the bird, as the animals described above result from a transformation of the quadrupeds.

[3]

Density of Jupiter 0.4 cm-3. See: Magnetosphere of Jupiter on the web.