<h2 id="sigil_toc_id_39">CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
<h3 id="sigil_toc_id_40">A MONSTER MEETING.</h3>
<p>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 to let his new
friend run the chances of a public conference. The place chosen for
this monster meeting 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 300,000 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 hand to
request silence, he spoke in perfectly correct English as
follows:—</p>
<div class="illus"><ANTIMG alt="Illustration: THE MEETING." id="meeting"
src="images/meeting.jpg" /></div>
<div class="caption">THE MEETING.</div>
<p>"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
600,000 ears, and please to 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 <i>decreasing.</i> 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?</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>The assembly, strongly predisposed as they were in favour of the
French hero, were slightly staggered at this bold theory. Michel
Ardan perceived the fact.</p>
<p>"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 <i>express train</i> 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 travellers, 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
at billions of miles distant from us? And then you talk of the
<i>distance</i> 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 <i>actual contact</i> 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!'"</p>
<p>"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 <i>an empty name.</i></p>
<div class="illus"><ANTIMG alt="Illustration: PROJECTILE TRAINS FOR THE MOON." id="trains" src=
"images/frontispiece.jpg" /></div>
<div class="caption">PROJECTILE TRAINS FOR THE MOON.</div>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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
<i>nothing useless</i> existed in the world; and, replying to your
question by another, I should venture to assert, that if these worlds
are <i>habitable</i>, they either are, have been, or will be
inhabited."</p>
<p>"No one could answer more logically or fairly," replied the
president. "The question then reverts to this: <i>Are</i> these
worlds habitable? For my own part I believe they are."</p>
<p>"For myself, I feel certain of it," said Michel Ardan.</p>
<p>"Nevertheless," retorted one of the audience, "there are many
arguments <i>against</i> 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."</p>
<p>"I regret," replied Michel Ardan, "that I have not the honour 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 the other worlds. If I were a <i>natural
philosopher,</i> I would tell him that if less of caloric were <i>set
in motion</i> 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 <i>naturalist</i>, 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 <i>chemist</i>, 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 <i>endued with animation.</i> 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>I am going to see!"</i></p>
<p>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:—</p>
<p>"Gentlemen, you will observe that I have but slightly touched upon
this great question. There is another altogether different line of
arguments in favour 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 <i>not</i> inhabited one may
reply:—You might be perfectly in the right, if you could only show
that the earth is the <i>best possible world,</i> spite of what
Voltaire has said. She has but <i>one</i> 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 marvellous
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 to such perfection, is the mere trifle
of having an axis of rotation less inclined to the plane of its
orbit!"</p>
<p>"Hurrah!" roared an energetic voice, "let us unite our efforts,
invent the necessary machines, and rectify the earth's axis!"</p>
<p>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.</p>
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