people he was “hail-fellow-well-met” with, it is impossible
to guess! Such a triumphal result would have intoxicated any
other man; but he managed to keep himself in a state of delightful
_semi_-tipsiness.
Among the deputations of all kinds which assailed him, that of
“The Lunatics” were careful not to forget what they owed to the
future conqueror of the moon. One day, certain of these poor
people, so numerous in America, came to call upon him, and
requested permission to return with him to their native country.
“Singular hallucination!” said he to Barbicane, after having
dismissed the deputation with promises to convey numbers of
messages to friends in the moon. “Do you believe in the
influence of the moon upon distempers?”
“Scarcely!”
“No more do I, despite some remarkable recorded facts of history.
For instance, during an epidemic in 1693, a large number of
persons died at the very moment of an eclipse. The celebrated
Bacon always fainted during an eclipse. Charles VI relapsed
six times into madness during the year 1399, sometimes during
the new, sometimes during the full moon. Gall observed that
insane persons underwent an accession of their disorder twice
in every month, at the epochs of new and full moon. In fact,
numerous observations made upon fevers, somnambulisms, and other
human maladies, seem to prove that the moon does exercise some
mysterious influence upon man.”
“But the how and the wherefore?” asked Barbicane.
“Well, I can only give you the answer which Arago borrowed from
Plutarch, which is nineteen centuries old. `Perhaps the stories
are not true!'”
In the height of his triumph, Michel Ardan had to encounter all
the annoyances incidental to a man of celebrity. Managers of
entertainments wanted to exhibit him. Barnum offered him a
million dollars to make a tour of the United States in his show.
As for his photographs, they were sold of all size, and his
portrait taken in every imaginable posture. More than half a
million copies were disposed of in an incredibly short space of time.
But it was not only the men who paid him homage, but the women
as well. He might have married well a hundred times over, if he
had been willing to settle in life. The old maids, in
particular, of forty years and upward, and dry in proportion,
devoured his photographs day and night. They would have married
him by hundreds, even if he had imposed upon them the condition
of accompanying him into space. He had, however, no intention
of transplanting a race of Franco-Americans upon the surface of
the moon.
He therefore declined all offers.
As soon as he could withdraw from these somewhat embarrassing
demonstrations, he went, accompanied by his friends, to pay a
visit to the Columbiad. He was highly gratified by his
inspection, and made the descent to the bottom of the tube of
this gigantic machine which was presently to launch him to the
regions of the moon. It is necessary here to mention a proposal
of J. T. Maston’s. When the secretary of the Gun Club found
that Barbicane and Nicholl accepted the proposal of Michel
Ardan, he determined to join them, and make one of a smug party
of four. So one day he determined to be admitted as one of the
travelers. Barbicane, pained at having to refuse him, gave him
clearly to understand that the projectile could not possibly
contain so many passengers. Maston, in despair, went in search
of Michel Ardan, who counseled him to resign himself to the
situation, adding one or two arguments _ad hominem_.
“You see, old fellow,” he said, “you must not take what I say in
bad part; but really, between ourselves, you are in too
incomplete a condition to appear in the moon!”
“Incomplete?” shrieked the valiant invalid.
“Yes, my dear fellow! imagine our meeting some of the
inhabitants up there! Would you like to give them such a
melancholy notion of what goes on down here? to teach them what
war is, to inform them that we employ our time chiefly in
devouring each other, in smashing arms and legs, and that too
on a globe which is capable of supporting a hundred billions