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