It is high time that I should pass from these brief and discursive notes about things in
Flatland to the central event of this book, my initiation into the mysteries of Space.
THAT is my subject; all that has gone before is merely preface.
For this reason I must omit many matters of which the explanation would not, I flatter
myself, be without interest for my Readers: as for example, our method of propelling and
stopping ourselves, although destitute of feet; the means by which we give fixity to
structures of wood, stone, or brick, although of course we have no hands, nor can we lay
foundations as you can, nor avail ourselves of the lateral pressure of the earth; the manner
in which the rain originates in the intervals between our various zones, so that the
northern regions do not intercept the moisture from falling on the southern; the nature of
our hills and mines, our trees and vegetables, our seasons and harvests; our Alphabet and
method of writing, adapted to our linear tablets; these and a hundred other details of our
physical existence I must pass over, nor do I mention them now except to indicate to my
readers that their omission proceeds not from forgetfulness on the part of the author, but
from his regard for the time of the Reader.
Yet before I proceed to my legitimate subject some few final remarks will no doubt be
expected by my Readers upon those pillars and mainstays of the Constitution of Flatland,
the controllers of our conduct and shapers of our destiny, the objects of universal homage
and almost of adoration: need I say that I mean our Circles or Priests?
When I call them Priests, let me not be understood as meaning no more than the term
denotes with you. With us, our Priests are Administrators of all Business, Art, and
Science; Directors of Trade, Commerce, Generalship, Architecture, Engineering,
Education, Statesmanship, Legislature, Morality, Theology; doing nothing themselves,
they are the Causes of everything worth doing, that is done by others.
Although popularly everyone called a Circle is deemed a Circle, yet among the better
educated Classes it is known that no Circle is really a Circle, but only a Polygon with a
very large number of very small sides. As the number of the sides increases, a Polygon
approximates to a Circle; and, when the number is very great indeed, say for example
three or four hundred, it is extremely difficult for the most delicate touch to feel any
polygonal angles. Let me say rather, it WOULD be difficult: for, as I have shown above,
Recognition by Feeling is unknown among the highest society, and to FEEL a Circle
would be considered a most audacious insult. This habit of abstention from Feeling in the
best society enables a Circle the more easily to sustain the veil of mystery in which, from
his earliest years, he is wont to enwrap the exact nature of his Perimeter or
Circumference. Three feet being the average Perimeter it follows that, in a Polygon of
three hundred sides each side will be no more than the hundredth part of a foot in length,
or little more than the tenth part of an inch; and in a Polygon of six or seven hundred
sides the sides are little larger than the diameter of a Spaceland pin-head. It is always
assumed, by courtesy, that the Chief Circle for the time being has ten thousand sides.
