At Seventy-eight Thousand Five Hundred And Fourteen Leagues

: From The Earth To The Moon

What had happened? Whence the cause of this singular

intoxication, the consequences of which might have been

very disastrous? A simple blunder of Michel's, which,

fortunately, Nicholl was able to correct in time.



After a perfect swoon, which lasted some minutes, the captain,

recovering first, soon collected his scattered senses.

Although he had breakfasted only two hours before, he felt a

g
awing hunger, as if he had not eaten anything for several days.

Everything about him, stomach and brain, were overexcited to the

highest degree. He got up and demanded from Michel a

supplementary repast. Michel, utterly done up, did not answer.



Nicholl then tried to prepare some tea destined to help the

absorption of a dozen sandwiches. He first tried to get some

fire, and struck a match sharply. What was his surprise to see

the sulphur shine with so extraordinary a brilliancy as to be

almost unbearable to the eye. From the gas-burner which he lit

rose a flame equal to a jet of electric light.



A revelation dawned on Nicholl's mind. That intensity of light,

the physiological troubles which had arisen in him, the

overexcitement of all his moral and quarrelsome faculties-- he

understood all.



"The oxygen!" he exclaimed.



And leaning over the air apparatus, he saw that the tap was

allowing the colorless gas to escape freely, life-giving, but in

its pure state producing the gravest disorders in the system.

Michel had blunderingly opened the tap of the apparatus to the full.



Nicholl hastened to stop the escape of oxygen with which the

atmosphere was saturated, which would have been the death of the

travelers, not by suffocation, but by combustion. An hour

later, the air less charged with it restored the lungs to their

normal condition. By degrees the three friends recovered from

their intoxication; but they were obliged to sleep themselves

sober over their oxygen as a drunkard does over his wine.



When Michel learned his share of the responsibility of this

incident, he was not much disconcerted. This unexpected

drunkenness broke the monotony of the journey. Many foolish

things had been said while under its influence, but also

quickly forgotten.



"And then," added the merry Frenchman, "I am not sorry to have

tasted a little of this heady gas. Do you know, my friends,

that a curious establishment might be founded with rooms of

oxygen, where people whose system is weakened could for a few

hours live a more active life. Fancy parties where the room was

saturated with this heroic fluid, theaters where it should be

kept at high pressure; what passion in the souls of the actors

and spectators! what fire, what enthusiasm! And if, instead of

an assembly only a whole people could be saturated, what activity

in its functions, what a supplement to life it would derive.

From an exhausted nation they might make a great and strong one,

and I know more than one state in old Europe which ought to put

itself under the regime of oxygen for the sake of its health!"



Michel spoke with so much animation that one might have fancied

that the tap was still too open. But a few words from Barbicane

soon shattered his enthusiasm.



"That is all very well, friend Michel," said he, "but will you

inform us where these chickens came from which have mixed

themselves up in our concert?"



"Those chickens?"



"Yes."



Indeed, half a dozen chickens and a fine cock were walking

about, flapping their wings and chattering.



"Ah, the awkward things!" exclaimed Michel. "The oxygen has

made them revolt."



"But what do you want to do with these chickens?" asked Barbicane.



"To acclimatize them in the moon, by Jove!"



"Then why did you hide them?"



"A joke, my worthy president, a simple joke, which has proved a

miserable failure. I wanted to set them free on the lunar

continent, without saying anything. Oh, what would have been

your amazement on seeing these earthly-winged animals pecking in

your lunar fields!"



"You rascal, you unmitigated rascal," replied Barbicane, "you do

not want oxygen to mount to the head. You are always what we

were under the influence of the gas; you are always foolish!"



"Ah, who says that we were not wise then?" replied Michel Ardan.



After this philosophical reflection, the three friends set about

restoring the order of the projectile. Chickens and cock were

reinstated in their coop. But while proceeding with this

operation, Barbicane and his two companions had a most desired

perception of a new phenomenon. From the moment of leaving the

earth, their own weight, that of the projectile, and the objects

it enclosed, had been subject to an increasing diminution. If they

could not prove this loss of the projectile, a moment would arrive

when it would be sensibly felt upon themselves and the utensils

and instruments they used.



It is needless to say that a scale would not show this loss; for

the weight destined to weight the object would have lost exactly

as much as the object itself; but a spring steelyard for

example, the tension of which was independent of the attraction,

would have given a just estimate of this loss.



We know that the attraction, otherwise called the weight, is in

proportion to the densities of the bodies, and inversely as the

squares of the distances. Hence this effect: If the earth had

been alone in space, if the other celestial bodies had been

suddenly annihilated, the projectile, according to Newton's

laws, would weigh less as it got farther from the earth, but

without ever losing its weight entirely, for the terrestrial

attraction would always have made itself felt, at whatever distance.



But, in reality, a time must come when the projectile would no

longer be subject to the law of weight, after allowing for the

other celestial bodies whose effect could not be set down as zero.

Indeed, the projectile's course was being traced between

the earth and the moon. As it distanced the earth, the

terrestrial attraction diminished: but the lunar attraction

rose in proportion. There must come a point where these two

attractions would neutralize each other: the projectile would

possess weight no longer. If the moon's and the earth's

densities had been equal, this point would have been at an equal

distance between the two orbs. But taking the different

densities into consideration, it was easy to reckon that this

point would be situated at 47/60ths of the whole journey,

i.e., at 78,514 leagues from the earth. At this point, a body

having no principle of speed or displacement in itself, would

remain immovable forever, being attracted equally by both orbs,

and not being drawn more toward one than toward the other.



Now if the projectile's impulsive force had been correctly

calculated, it would attain this point without speed, having

lost all trace of weight, as well as all the objects within it.

What would happen then? Three hypotheses presented themselves.



1. Either it would retain a certain amount of motion, and pass

the point of equal attraction, and fall upon the moon by virtue

of the excess of the lunar attraction over the terrestrial.



2. Or, its speed failing, and unable to reach the point of equal

attraction, it would fall upon the moon by virtue of the excess

of the lunar attraction over the terrestrial.



3. Or, lastly, animated with sufficient speed to enable it to

reach the neutral point, but not sufficient to pass it, it would

remain forever suspended in that spot like the pretended tomb of

Mahomet, between the zenith and the nadir.



Such was their situation; and Barbicane clearly explained the

consequences to his traveling companions, which greatly

interested them. But how should they know when the projectile

had reached this neutral point situated at that distance,

especially when neither themselves, nor the objects enclosed in

the projectile, would be any longer subject to the laws of weight?



Up to this time, the travelers, while admitting that this action

was constantly decreasing, had not yet become sensible to its

total absence.



But that day, about eleven o'clock in the morning, Nicholl

having accidentally let a glass slip from his hand, the glass,

instead of falling, remained suspended in the air.



"Ah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "that is rather an amusing piece

of natural philosophy."



And immediately divers other objects, firearms and bottles,

abandoned to themselves, held themselves up as by enchantment.

Diana too, placed in space by Michel, reproduced, but without

any trick, the wonderful suspension practiced by Caston and

Robert Houdin. Indeed the dog did not seem to know that she was

floating in air.



The three adventurous companions were surprised and stupefied,

despite their scientific reasonings. They felt themselves being

carried into the domain of wonders! they felt that weight was

really wanting to their bodies. If they stretched out their

arms, they did not attempt to fall. Their heads shook on

their shoulders. Their feet no longer clung to the floor of

the projectile. They were like drunken men having no stability

in themselves.



Fancy has depicted men without reflection, others without shadow.

But here reality, by the neutralizations of attractive forces,

produced men in whom nothing had any weight, and who weighed

nothing themselves.



Suddenly Michel, taking a spring, left the floor and remained

suspended in the air, like Murillo's monk of the Cusine des Anges.



The two friends joined him instantly, and all three formed a

miraculous "Ascension" in the center of the projectile.



"Is it to be believed? is it probable? is it possible?"

exclaimed Michel; "and yet it is so. Ah! if Raphael had seen us

thus, what an `Assumption' he would have thrown upon canvas!"



"The `Assumption' cannot last," replied Barbicane. "If the

projectile passes the neutral point, the lunar attraction will

draw us to the moon."



"Then our feet will be upon the roof," replied Michel.



"No," said Barbicane, "because the projectile's center of

gravity is very low; it will only turn by degrees."



"Then all our portables will be upset from top to bottom, that

is a fact."



"Calm yourself, Michel," replied Nicholl; "no upset is to be

feared; not a thing will move, for the projectile's evolution

will be imperceptible."



"Just so," continued Barbicane; "and when it has passed the

point of equal attraction, its base, being the heavier, will

draw it perpendicularly to the moon; but, in order that this

phenomenon should take place, we must have passed the neutral line."



"Pass the neutral line," cried Michel; "then let us do as the

sailors do when they cross the equator."



A slight side movement brought Michel back toward the padded

side; thence he took a bottle and glasses, placed them "in

space" before his companions, and, drinking merrily, they

saluted the line with a triple hurrah. The influence of these

attractions scarcely lasted an hour; the travelers felt

themselves insensibly drawn toward the floor, and Barbicane

fancied that the conical end of the projectile was varying a

little from its normal direction toward the moon. By an inverse

motion the base was approaching first; the lunar attraction was

prevailing over the terrestrial; the fall toward the moon was

beginning, almost imperceptibly as yet, but by degrees the

attractive force would become stronger, the fall would be more

decided, the projectile, drawn by its base, would turn its cone

to the earth, and fall with ever-increasing speed on to the

surface of the Selenite continent; their destination would then

be attained. Now nothing could prevent the success of their

enterprise, and Nicholl and Michel Ardan shared Barbicane's joy.



Then they chatted of all the phenomena which had astonished them

one after the other, particularly the neutralization of the laws

of weight. Michel Ardan, always enthusiastic, drew conclusions

which were purely fanciful.



"Ah, my worthy friends," he exclaimed, "what progress we should

make if on earth we could throw off some of that weight, some of

that chain which binds us to her; it would be the prisoner set

at liberty; no more fatigue of either arms or legs. Or, if it

is true that in order to fly on the earth's surface, to keep

oneself suspended in the air merely by the play of the muscles,

there requires a strength a hundred and fifty times greater than

that which we possess, a simple act of volition, a caprice,

would bear us into space, if attraction did not exist."



"Just so," said Nicholl, smiling; "if we could succeed in

suppressing weight as they suppress pain by anaesthesia,

that would change the face of modern society!"



"Yes," cried Michel, full of his subject, "destroy weight, and

no more burdens!"



"Well said," replied Barbicane; "but if nothing had any weight,

nothing would keep in its place, not even your hat on your head,

worthy Michel; nor your house, whose stones only adhere by

weight; nor a boat, whose stability on the waves is only caused

by weight; not even the ocean, whose waves would no longer be

equalized by terrestrial attraction; and lastly, not even the

atmosphere, whose atoms, being no longer held in their places,

would disperse in space!"



"That is tiresome," retorted Michel; "nothing like these

matter-of-fact people for bringing one back to the bare reality."



"But console yourself, Michel," continued Barbicane, "for if no

orb exists from whence all laws of weight are banished, you are

at least going to visit one where it is much less than on the earth."



"The moon?"



"Yes, the moon, on whose surface objects weigh six times less

than on the earth, a phenomenon easy to prove."



"And we shall feel it?" asked Michel.



"Evidently, as two hundred pounds will only weigh thirty pounds

on the surface of the moon."



"And our muscular strength will not diminish?"



"Not at all; instead of jumping one yard high, you will rise

eighteen feet high."



"But we shall be regular Herculeses in the moon!" exclaimed Michel.



"Yes," replied Nicholl; "for if the height of the Selenites is

in proportion to the density of their globe, they will be

scarcely a foot high."



"Lilliputians!" ejaculated Michel; "I shall play the part

of Gulliver. We are going to realize the fable of the giants.

This is the advantage of leaving one's own planet and

over-running the solar world."



"One moment, Michel," answered Barbicane; "if you wish to play

the part of Gulliver, only visit the inferior planets, such as

Mercury, Venus, or Mars, whose density is a little less than

that of the earth; but do not venture into the great planets,

Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune; for there the order will be

changed, and you will become Lilliputian."



"And in the sun?"



"In the sun, if its density is thirteen hundred and twenty-four

thousand times greater, and the attraction is twenty-seven times

greater than on the surface of our globe, keeping everything in

proportion, the inhabitants ought to be at least two hundred

feet high."



"By Jove!" exclaimed Michel; "I should be nothing more than a

pigmy, a shrimp!"



"Gulliver with the giants," said Nicholl.



"Just so," replied Barbicane.



"And it would not be quite useless to carry some pieces of

artillery to defend oneself."



"Good," replied Nicholl; "your projectiles would have no effect

on the sun; they would fall back upon the earth after some minutes."



"That is a strong remark."



"It is certain," replied Barbicane; "the attraction is so great

on this enormous orb, that an object weighing 70,000 pounds on

the earth would weigh but 1,920 pounds on the surface of the sun.

If you were to fall upon it you would weigh-- let me see-- about

5,000 pounds, a weight which you would never be able to raise again."



"The devil!" said Michel; "one would want a portable crane.

However, we will be satisfied with the moon for the present;

there at least we shall cut a great figure. We will see about

the sun by and by."



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