“Why should we not succeed?” said Michel Ardan; “why should we
not arrive safely? We are launched; we have no obstacle before
us, no stones in the way; the road is open, more so than that of
a ship battling with the sea; more open than that of a balloon
battling with the wind; and if a ship can reach its destination,
a balloon go where it pleases, why cannot our projectile attain
its end and aim?”
“It _will_ attain it,” said Barbicane.
“If only to do honor to the Americans,” added Michel Ardan, “the
only people who could bring such an enterprise to a happy termination,
and the only one which could produce a President Barbicane. Ah, now
we are no longer uneasy, I begin to think, What will become of us?
We shall get right royally weary.”
Barbicane and Nicholl made a gesture of denial.
“But I have provided for the contingency, my friends,” replied
Michel; “you have only to speak, and I have chess, draughts,
cards, and dominoes at your disposal; nothing is wanting but a
billiard-table.”
“What!” exclaimed Barbicane; “you brought away such trifles?”
“Certainly,” replied Michel, “and not only to distract
ourselves, but also with the laudable intention of endowing the
Selenite smoking divans with them.”
“My friend,” said Barbicane, “if the moon is inhabited, its
inhabitants must have appeared some thousands of years before
those of the earth, for we cannot doubt that their star is much
older than ours. If then these Selenites have existed their
hundreds of thousands of years, and if their brain is of the same
organization of the human brain, they have already invented all
that we have invented, and even what we may invent in future ages.
They have nothing to learn from _us_, and we have everything to
learn from _them_.”
“What!” said Michel; “you believe that they have artists like
Phidias, Michael Angelo, or Raphael?”
“Yes.”
“Poets like Homer, Virgil, Milton, Lamartine, and Hugo?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Kant?”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“Scientific men like Archimedes, Euclid, Pascal, Newton?”
“I could swear it.”
“Comic writers like Arnal, and photographers like– like Nadar?”
“Certain.”
“Then, friend Barbicane, if they are as strong as we are, and
even stronger– these Selenites– why have they not tried to
communicate with the earth? why have they not launched a lunar
projectile to our terrestrial regions?”
“Who told you that they have never done so?” said Barbicane seriously.
“Indeed,” added Nicholl, “it would be easier for them than for
us, for two reasons; first, because the attraction on the moon’s
surface is six times less than on that of the earth, which would
allow a projectile to rise more easily; secondly, because it
would be enough to send such a projectile only at 8,000 leagues
instead of 80,000, which would require the force of projection
to be ten times less strong.”
“Then,” continued Michel, “I repeat it, why have they not done it?”
“And I repeat,” said Barbicane; “who told you that they have not
done it?”
“When?”
“Thousands of years before man appeared on earth.”
“And the projectile– where is the projectile? I demand to see
the projectile.”
“My friend,” replied Barbicane, “the sea covers five-sixths of
our globe. From that we may draw five good reasons for
supposing that the lunar projectile, if ever launched, is now at
the bottom of the Atlantic or the Pacific, unless it sped into
some crevasse at that period when the crust of the earth was not
yet hardened.”
“Old Barbicane,” said Michel, “you have an answer for
everything, and I bow before your wisdom. But there is one
hypothesis that would suit me better than all the others, which
is, the Selenites, being older than we, are wiser, and have not
invented gunpowder.”
At this moment Diana joined in the conversation by a sonorous barking.
She was asking for her breakfast.
“Ah!” said Michel Ardan, “in our discussion we have forgotten
Diana and Satellite.”
Immediately a good-sized pie was given to the dog, which
devoured it hungrily.
“Do you see, Barbicane,” said Michel, “we should have made a
second Noah’s ark of this projectile, and borne with us to the