A Monster Meeting

: From The Earth To The Moon

On the following day Barbicane, fearing that indiscreet

questions might be put to Michel Ardan, was desirous of reducing

the number of the audience to a few of the initiated, his own

colleagues for instance. He might as well have tried to

check the Falls of Niagara! he was compelled, therefore, to

give up the idea, and let his new friend run the chances of a

public conference. The place chosen for this monster meetin


was a vast plain situated in the rear of the town. In a few

hours, thanks to the help of the shipping in port, an immense

roofing of canvas was stretched over the parched prairie, and

protected it from the burning rays of the sun. There three

hundred thousand people braved for many hours the stifling heat

while awaiting the arrival of the Frenchman. Of this crowd of

spectators a first set could both see and hear; a second set saw

badly and heard nothing at all; and as for the third, it could

neither see nor hear anything at all. At three o'clock Michel

Ardan made his appearance, accompanied by the principal members

of the Gun Club. He was supported on his right by President

Barbicane, and on his left by J. T. Maston, more radiant than

the midday sun, and nearly as ruddy. Ardan mounted a platform,

from the top of which his view extended over a sea of black hats.



He exhibited not the slightest embarrassment; he was just as

gay, familiar, and pleasant as if he were at home. To the

hurrahs which greeted him he replied by a graceful bow; then,

waving his hands to request silence, he spoke in perfectly

correct English as follows:



"Gentlemen, despite the very hot weather I request your patience

for a short time while I offer some explanations regarding the

projects which seem to have so interested you. I am neither an

orator nor a man of science, and I had no idea of addressing you

in public; but my friend Barbicane has told me that you would

like to hear me, and I am quite at your service. Listen to me,

therefore, with your six hundred thousand ears, and please

excuse the faults of the speaker. Now pray do not forget that

you see before you a perfect ignoramus whose ignorance goes so

far that he cannot even understand the difficulties! It seemed

to him that it was a matter quite simple, natural, and easy

to take one's place in a projectile and start for the moon!

That journey must be undertaken sooner or later; and, as for the

mode of locomotion adopted, it follows simply the law of progress.

Man began by walking on all-fours; then, one fine day, on two

feet; then in a carriage; then in a stage-coach; and lastly

by railway. Well, the projectile is the vehicle of the future,

and the planets themselves are nothing else! Now some of you,

gentlemen, may imagine that the velocity we propose to impart to

it is extravagant. It is nothing of the kind. All the stars

exceed it in rapidity, and the earth herself is at this moment

carrying us round the sun at three times as rapid a rate, and

yet she is a mere lounger on the way compared with many others

of the planets! And her velocity is constantly decreasing.

Is it not evident, then, I ask you, that there will some day appear

velocities far greater than these, of which light or electricity

will probably be the mechanical agent?



"Yes, gentlemen," continued the orator, "in spite of the

opinions of certain narrow-minded people, who would shut up the

human race upon this globe, as within some magic circle which it

must never outstep, we shall one day travel to the moon, the

planets, and the stars, with the same facility, rapidity, and

certainty as we now make the voyage from Liverpool to New York!

Distance is but a relative expression, and must end by being

reduced to zero."



The assembly, strongly predisposed as they were in favor of the

French hero, were slightly staggered at this bold theory.

Michel Ardan perceived the fact.



"Gentlemen," he continued with a pleasant smile, "you do not

seem quite convinced. Very good! Let us reason the matter out.

Do you know how long it would take for an express train to reach

the moon? Three hundred days; no more! And what is that?

The distance is no more than nine times the circumference of

the earth; and there are no sailors or travelers, of even

moderate activity, who have not made longer journeys than that

in their lifetime. And now consider that I shall be only ninety-

seven hours on my journey. Ah! I see you are reckoning that the

moon is a long way off from the earth, and that one must think

twice before making the experiment. What would you say, then,

if we were talking of going to Neptune, which revolves at a

distance of more than two thousand seven hundred and twenty

millions of miles from the sun! And yet what is that compared

with the distance of the fixed stars, some of which, such as Arcturus,

are billions of miles distant from us? And then you talk of the

distance which separates the planets from the sun! And there

are people who affirm that such a thing as distance exists.

Absurdity, folly, idiotic nonsense! Would you know what I think

of our own solar universe? Shall I tell you my theory? It is

very simple! In my opinion the solar system is a solid

homogeneous body; the planets which compose it are in actual

contact with each other; and whatever space exists between them

is nothing more than the space which separates the molecules of

the densest metal, such as silver, iron, or platinum! I have

the right, therefore, to affirm, and I repeat, with the

conviction which must penetrate all your minds, `Distance is

but an empty name; distance does not really exist!'"



"Hurrah!" cried one voice (need it be said it was that of

J. T. Maston). "Distance does not exist!" And overcome by the

energy of his movements, he nearly fell from the platform to

the ground. He just escaped a severe fall, which would have

proved to him that distance was by no means an empty name.



"Gentlemen," resumed the orator, "I repeat that the distance

between the earth and her satellite is a mere trifle, and

undeserving of serious consideration. I am convinced that

before twenty years are over one-half of our earth will have

paid a visit to the moon. Now, my worthy friends, if you have

any question to put to me, you will, I fear, sadly embarrass a

poor man like myself; still I will do my best to answer you."



Up to this point the president of the Gun Club had been

satisfied with the turn which the discussion had assumed.

It became now, however, desirable to divert Ardan from

questions of a practical nature, with which he was doubtless

far less conversant. Barbicane, therefore, hastened to get in

a word, and began by asking his new friend whether he thought

that the moon and the planets were inhabited.



"You put before me a great problem, my worthy president,"

replied the orator, smiling. "Still, men of great intelligence,

such as Plutarch, Swedenborg, Bernardin de St. Pierre, and

others have, if I mistake not, pronounced in the affirmative.

Looking at the question from the natural philosopher's point of

view, I should say that nothing useless existed in the world;

and, replying to your question by another, I should venture to

assert, that if these worlds are habitable, they either are,

have been, or will be inhabited."



"No one could answer more logically or fairly," replied the

president. "The question then reverts to this: Are these

worlds habitable? For my own part I believe they are."



"For myself, I feel certain of it," said Michel Ardan.



"Nevertheless," retorted one of the audience, "there are many

arguments against the habitability of the worlds. The conditions

of life must evidently be greatly modified upon the majority

of them. To mention only the planets, we should be either

broiled alive in some, or frozen to death in others, according

as they are more or less removed from the sun."



"I regret," replied Michel Ardan, "that I have not the honor of

personally knowing my contradictor, for I would have attempted

to answer him. His objection has its merits, I admit; but I

think we may successfully combat it, as well as all others which

affect the habitability of other worlds. If I were a natural

philosopher, I would tell him that if less of caloric were set

in motion upon the planets which are nearest to the sun, and

more, on the contrary, upon those which are farthest removed

from it, this simple fact would alone suffice to equalize the

heat, and to render the temperature of those worlds supportable

by beings organized like ourselves. If I were a naturalist,

I would tell him that, according to some illustrious men of

science, nature has furnished us with instances upon the earth

of animals existing under very varying conditions of life;

that fish respire in a medium fatal to other animals; that

amphibious creatures possess a double existence very difficult

of explanation; that certain denizens of the seas maintain life

at enormous depths, and there support a pressure equal to that

of fifty or sixty atmospheres without being crushed; that

several aquatic insects, insensible to temperature, are met with

equally among boiling springs and in the frozen plains of the

Polar Sea; in fine, that we cannot help recognizing in nature a

diversity of means of operation oftentimes incomprehensible, but

not the less real. If I were a chemist, I would tell him that

the aerolites, bodies evidently formed exteriorly of our

terrestrial globe, have, upon analysis, revealed indisputable

traces of carbon, a substance which owes its origin solely to

organized beings, and which, according to the experiments of

Reichenbach, must necessarily itself have been endued with

animation. And lastly, were I a theologian, I would tell him

that the scheme of the Divine Redemption, according to St. Paul,

seems to be applicable, not merely to the earth, but to all the

celestial worlds. But, unfortunately, I am neither theologian,

nor chemist, nor naturalist, nor philosopher; therefore, in my

absolute ignorance of the great laws which govern the universe,

I confine myself to saying in reply, `I do not know whether the

worlds are inhabited or not: and since I do not know, I am going

to see!'"



Whether Michel Ardan's antagonist hazarded any further arguments

or not it is impossible to say, for the uproarious shouts of the

crowd would not allow any expression of opinion to gain a hearing.

On silence being restored, the triumphant orator contented himself

with adding the following remarks:



"Gentlemen, you will observe that I have but slightly touched

upon this great question. There is another altogether different

line of argument in favor of the habitability of the stars,

which I omit for the present. I only desire to call attention

to one point. To those who maintain that the planets are not

inhabited one may reply: You might be perfectly in the right,

if you could only show that the earth is the best possible

world, in spite of what Voltaire has said. She has but one

satellite, while Jupiter, Uranus, Saturn, Neptune have each

several, an advantage by no means to be despised. But that

which renders our own globe so uncomfortable is the inclination

of its axis to the plane of its orbit. Hence the inequality of

days and nights; hence the disagreeable diversity of the seasons.

On the surface of our unhappy spheroid we are always either too

hot or too cold; we are frozen in winter, broiled in summer;

it is the planet of rheumatism, coughs, bronchitis; while on the

surface of Jupiter, for example, where the axis is but slightly

inclined, the inhabitants may enjoy uniform temperatures.

It possesses zones of perpetual springs, summers, autumns, and

winters; every Jovian may choose for himself what climate he

likes, and there spend the whole of his life in security from

all variations of temperature. You will, I am sure, readily

admit this superiority of Jupiter over our own planet, to say

nothing of his years, which each equal twelve of ours!

Under such auspices and such marvelous conditions of existence,

it appears to me that the inhabitants of so fortunate a world

must be in every respect superior to ourselves. All we require,

in order to attain such perfection, is the mere trifle of having

an axis of rotation less inclined to the plane of its orbit!"



"Hurrah!" roared an energetic voice, "let us unite our efforts,

invent the necessary machines, and rectify the earth's axis!"



A thunder of applause followed this proposal, the author of

which was, of course, no other than J. T. Maston. And, in all

probability, if the truth must be told, if the Yankees could

only have found a point of application for it, they would have

constructed a lever capable of raising the earth and rectifying

its axis. It was just this deficiency which baffled these

daring mechanicians.



More

;