dissolver of old beliefs, an intermediary between science and the
world of fashion, a discreet insinuator of doubts, who smiled but
never condescended to laugh, an intelligence supple, subtle, and
untiring.

In 1686 he published his _Entretiens sur la Pluralite des Mondes_,
evening conversations between an astronomer and a marchioness,
half-scientific, half-gallant, learned coquetries with science, for
which he asked no more serious attention than a novel might require,
while he communicated the theories of Descartes and the discoveries
of Galileo, suggested that science is our safest way to truth, and
that truth at best is not absolute but relative to the human
understanding. The _Histoire des Oracles_, in which the cargo of Dutch
erudition that loaded his original by Van Dale is skilfully lightened,
glided to the edge of theological storm. Fontenelle would show that
the pagan oracles were not delivered by demons, and did not cease
at the coming of Jesus Christ; innocent opinions, but apt to
illustrate the origins and growth of superstitions, from which we
too may not be wholly free in spite of all our advantages of true
religion and sound philosophy. Of course God's chosen people are not
like unguided Greeks or Romans; and yet human beings are much the
same in all times and places. The Jesuit Baltus scented heresy, and
Fontenelle was very ready to admit that the devil was a prophet, since
Father Baltus wished it so to be, and held the opinion to be orthodox.

Appointed perpetual secretary of the _Academie des Sciences_ in 1697,
Fontenelle pronounced during forty years the panegyrics of those who
had been its members. These _Eloges des Academiciens_ are
masterpieces in a difficult art, luminous, dignified, generous
without ostentation, plain without poverty of thought or expression.
The discreet Fontenelle loved tranquillity--"If I had my hand full
of truths, I should take good care before I opened it." He never lost
a friend, acting on two prudent maxims, "Everything is possible,"
and "Every one is right." "It is not a heart," said Madame de Tencin,
"which you have in your breast; it is a brain." It was a kindly brain,
which could be for a moment courageous. And thus it was possible for
him to enter his hundredth year, still interested in ideas, still
tranquil and alert.

A great arsenal for the uses of eighteenth-century philosophy was
constructed and stored by PIERRE BAYLE (1647-1706) in his
_Dictionnaire Histo