A Massive Meeting

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 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 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.

The next day, Barbicane feared that someone might ask Michel Ardan indiscreet questions. He wanted to limit the audience to a few people in the know, such as his own colleagues. He might as well have tried to stop Niagara Falls! So he had to abandon the idea and let his new friend take his chances at a public meeting. The site chosen for this enormous gathering was a vast plain behind the town. With help from the ships in port, an immense canvas roof was stretched over the parched prairie within hours. It sheltered the prairie from the burning sun. There, three hundred thousand people endured the stifling heat for hours as they waited for the Frenchman to arrive. Some spectators could both see and hear. Others could barely see and heard nothing at all. A third group could neither see nor hear anything. At three o’clock, Michel Ardan appeared, accompanied by the leading members of the Gun Club. President Barbicane stood at his right and J. T. Maston at his left. Maston was more radiant than the midday sun and nearly as red. Ardan climbed onto a platform, where he looked out 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:

He showed no embarrassment at all. He was as cheerful, friendly, and pleasant as if he were at home. He responded to the cheers with a graceful bow. Then he waved his hands to ask for silence and spoke in perfectly correct English:

“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?

“Gentlemen, despite the intense heat, I ask for your patience for a little while. I would like to explain the projects that seem to interest you so much. I am neither a public speaker nor a scientist, and I never expected to address you in public. But my friend Barbicane tells me you would like to hear me, and I am entirely at your service. So listen to me with your six hundred thousand ears, and please excuse my faults as a speaker. Remember that you have a complete ignoramus before you. I am so ignorant that I cannot even understand the difficulties! To me, it seemed perfectly simple, natural, and easy to climb into a projectile and set off for the moon! That journey must be made sooner or later. And the method of travel we have chosen simply follows the law of progress. Man began by walking on all fours. Then, one fine day, he walked on two feet. Next he traveled by carriage, then by stagecoach, and finally by railway. Well, the projectile is the vehicle of the future, and the planets themselves are nothing else! Now, gentlemen, some of you may think the speed we propose to give the projectile is excessive. It is nothing of the kind. All the stars move faster. At this moment, the earth itself is carrying us around the sun at three times that speed. Yet compared with many other planets, the earth is merely strolling along! And its speed is constantly decreasing. So isn't it clear that one day there will be speeds far greater than these? Light or electricity will probably provide the means of achieving them.

“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.”

“Yes, gentlemen,” the speaker continued, “some narrow-minded people would confine humanity to this globe, as if inside a magic circle we must never cross. But despite their opinions, we shall one day travel to the moon, the planets, and the stars. We shall travel as easily, quickly, and reliably as we now travel from Liverpool to New York! Distance is only a relative term, and it must eventually be 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.

Although the crowd strongly favored the French hero, his bold theory surprised them a little. Michel Ardan noticed.

“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 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 billions of miles distant from us? And then you talk of the distance 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 actual contact 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!’”

“Gentlemen,” he continued with a pleasant smile, “you don’t seem entirely convinced. Very well! Let’s reason it out. Do you know how long an express train would take to reach the moon? Three hundred days, no more! And what is that? The distance is only nine times the circumference of the earth. Every sailor or traveler who is even moderately active has made longer journeys in their lifetime. Now consider that my journey will take only ninety-seven hours. “Ah! I see you think the moon is a long way from the earth. You think we should think twice before trying this experiment. What would you say, then, if we were talking about going to Neptune? Neptune orbits more than two thousand seven hundred and twenty million miles from the sun! Yet what is that compared with the distance to the fixed stars? Some of them, such as Arcturus, are billions of miles away from us. And then you talk about the distance between the planets and the sun! “And there are people who insist that distance exists. Absurdity, folly, idiotic nonsense! Would you like to know what I think of our own solar universe? Shall I tell you my theory? It’s very simple! In my opinion, the solar system is a solid, uniform body. The planets that make it up are actually touching one another. Any space between them is no more than the space between molecules in the densest metals, such as silver, iron, or platinum! “So I have the right to declare it. And I repeat it with a conviction that must reach every one of you: ‘Distance is just an empty name; distance does not really exist!’”

“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 an empty name.

“Hurrah!” cried a voice (need it be said that it was J. T. Maston?). “Distance does not exist!” His energetic movements nearly sent him falling from the platform to the ground. He barely escaped a serious fall, which would have proved to him that distance was no empty word.

“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.”

“Gentlemen,” the speaker continued, “I repeat that the distance between Earth and its moon is a mere trifle. It does not deserve serious consideration. I am convinced that within twenty years, half the people on Earth will have visited the moon. Now, my good friends, if you have any questions for me, I fear you will greatly embarrass a poor man like me. Still, I will do my best to answer you.”

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.

Until now, the president of the Gun Club had been pleased with how the discussion was going. But it was time to steer Ardan away from practical questions, which he was doubtless much less familiar with. So Barbicane quickly spoke up. He began by asking his new friend whether he thought the moon and the planets were inhabited.

“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 nothing useless existed in the world; and, replying to your question by another, I should venture to assert, that if these worlds are habitable, they either are, have been, or will be inhabited.”

“You pose a great problem, my dear president,” the speaker replied with a smile. “Still, if I remember correctly, great thinkers such as Plutarch, Swedenborg, Bernardin de St. Pierre, and others have answered yes. From a scientific point of view, I would say that nothing in the world exists without a purpose. And I would answer your question with another claim: if these worlds are habitable, they either are, have been, or will be inhabited.”

“No one could answer more logically or fairly,” replied the president. “The question then reverts to this: Are these worlds habitable? For my own part I believe they are.”

“No one could give a more logical or fair answer,” replied the president. “So the question remains: Can people live on these worlds? I believe they can.”

“For myself, I feel certain of it,” said Michel Ardan.

“I’m sure of it myself,” said Michel Ardan.

“Nevertheless,” retorted one of the audience, “there are many arguments against 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.”

“Even so,” replied someone in the audience, “there are many arguments against other worlds being habitable. Living conditions must clearly be very different on most of them. Consider just the planets. We would be roasted alive on some and frozen to death on others, depending on their distance from the sun.”

“I regret,” replied Michel Ardan, “that I have not the honor 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 other worlds. If I were a natural philosopher, I would tell him that if less of caloric were set in motion 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 naturalist, 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 chemist, 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 endued with animation. 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 am going to see!’”

“I regret,” replied Michel Ardan, “that I do not have the honor of knowing my opponent personally. If I did, I would have tried to answer him. I admit that his objection has merit. But I think we can overcome it, along with all other objections to the habitability of other worlds. “If I were a physicist, I would speak of heat on the planets. Suppose less heat were set in motion on those nearest the sun and more on those farthest from it. That fact alone would be enough to equalize the heat. It would make their temperatures bearable for beings like ourselves. “If I were a naturalist, I would point to the views of some distinguished scientists. According to them, nature offers examples of animals living under widely different conditions here on Earth. Fish breathe in a medium fatal to other animals. Amphibians lead a double life that is very difficult to explain. Some sea creatures live at enormous depths. There they withstand the pressure of fifty or sixty atmospheres without being crushed. Several aquatic insects are unaffected by temperature. They are found in boiling springs and on the frozen plains of the Polar Sea alike. In short, we must recognize that nature works in many ways. These ways are often incomprehensible, but they are no less real. “If I were a chemist, I would speak of meteorites, bodies clearly formed outside our Earth. Analysis has revealed unmistakable traces of carbon in them. Carbon comes only from living beings. According to Reichenbach’s experiments, the carbon itself must once have been alive. “Finally, if I were a theologian, I would speak of Divine Redemption. According to St. Paul, its plan seems to apply not only to Earth but to all the worlds in the heavens. “But unfortunately, I am neither a theologian, a chemist, a naturalist, nor a philosopher. I am therefore completely ignorant of the great laws that govern the universe. So I will say only this in reply: ‘I do not know whether the worlds are inhabited or not. And since I do not know, I am going to see!’”

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:

It is impossible to say whether Michel Ardan’s opponent offered any further arguments. The crowd’s roaring shouts drowned out any opinion. When silence returned, the triumphant speaker simply added the following remarks:

“Gentlemen, you will observe that I have but slightly touched upon this great question. There is another altogether different line of argument in favor 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 not inhabited one may reply: You might be perfectly in the right, if you could only show that the earth is the best possible world, in spite of what Voltaire has said. She has but one 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 marvelous 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 such perfection, is the mere trifle of having an axis of rotation less inclined to the plane of its orbit!”

“Gentlemen, you will see that I have only briefly touched on this great question. There is another, entirely different argument in favor of the habitability of the stars, which I will leave aside for now. I only want to draw attention to one point. To those who claim that the planets are not inhabited, one may reply: You might be perfectly right if you could show that Earth is the best possible world, despite what Voltaire has said. Earth has only one satellite, while Jupiter, Uranus, Saturn, and Neptune each have several. That is an advantage not to be dismissed. But what makes our own globe so uncomfortable is the tilt of its axis relative to the plane of its orbit. This causes the unequal lengths of days and nights and the unpleasant variety of the seasons. On the surface of our unhappy globe, we are always either too hot or too cold. We freeze in winter and roast in summer. Earth is the planet of rheumatism, coughs, and bronchitis. On Jupiter, for example, the axis is only slightly tilted, so its inhabitants may enjoy steady temperatures. It has zones of perpetual spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Every Jovian may choose the climate he likes and spend his whole life there, safe from changes in temperature. I am sure you will readily admit that Jupiter is superior to our own planet in this respect. And that is to say nothing of its years, each of which equals twelve of ours! Under such favorable circumstances and such marvelous living conditions, the inhabitants of so fortunate a world must, it seems to me, be superior to us in every respect. All we need to reach such perfection is the mere trifle of an axis of rotation less tilted relative to the plane of its orbit!”

“Hurrah!” roared an energetic voice, “let us unite our efforts, invent the necessary machines, and rectify the earth’s axis!”

“Hurrah!” shouted an energetic voice. “Let’s join forces, invent the machines we need, and straighten the earth’s axis!”

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.

A thunder of applause followed the proposal. Its author was, of course, none other than J. T. Maston. And, truth be told, the Yankees would probably have built a lever to lift the earth and straighten its axis. That is, if they could have found a place to apply the lever. It was just this lack of a place that defeated these daring engineers.