Moon Landscapes

At half-past two in the morning, the projectile was over the thirteenth lunar parallel and at the effective distance of five hundred miles, reduced by the glasses to five. It still seemed impossible, however, that it could ever touch any part of the disc. Its motive speed, comparatively so moderate, was inexplicable to President Barbicane. At that distance from the moon it must have been considerable, to enable it to bear up against her attraction. Here was a phenomenon the cause of which escaped them again. Besides, time failed them to investigate the cause. All lunar relief was defiling under the eyes of the travelers, and they would not lose a single detail.

At half past two in the morning, the projectile was over the thirteenth lunar parallel, five hundred miles from the moon. Through the glasses, that distance seemed reduced to five miles. Even so, it still seemed impossible that the projectile could ever touch any part of the lunar disc. President Barbicane could not explain why its speed was comparatively so moderate. At that distance from the moon, its speed must have been considerable to resist her attraction. Once again, they could not explain the cause of a phenomenon. Besides, they had no time to investigate it. All the features of the lunar surface were passing beneath the travelers' eyes, and they did not want to miss a single detail.

Under the glasses the disc appeared at the distance of five miles. What would an aeronaut, borne to this distance from the earth, distinguish on its surface? We cannot say, since the greatest ascension has not been more than 25,000 feet.

Through the glasses, the disc appeared to be five miles away. What could an aeronaut five miles above the earth make out on its surface? We cannot say, because no one has risen higher than 25,000 feet.

This, however, is an exact description of what Barbicane and his companions saw at this height. Large patches of different colors appeared on the disc. Selenographers are not agreed upon the nature of these colors. There are several, and rather vividly marked. Julius Schmidt pretends that, if the terrestrial oceans were dried up, a Selenite observer could not distinguish on the globe a greater diversity of shades between the oceans and the continental plains than those on the moon present to a terrestrial observer. According to him, the color common to the vast plains known by the name of “seas” is a dark gray mixed with green and brown. Some of the large craters present the same appearance. Barbicane knew this opinion of the German selenographer, an opinion shared by Boeer and Moedler. Observation has proved that right was on their side, and not on that of some astronomers who admit the existence of only gray on the moon’s surface. In some parts green was very distinct, such as springs, according to Julius Schmidt, from the seas of “Serenity and Humors.” Barbicane also noticed large craters, without any interior cones, which shed a bluish tint similar to the reflection of a sheet of steel freshly polished. These colors belonged really to the lunar disc, and did not result, as some astronomers say, either from the imperfection in the objective of the glasses or from the interposition of the terrestrial atmosphere.

This, however, is an exact description of what Barbicane and his companions saw at this height. Large patches of different colors appeared on the disc. Selenographers disagree about the nature of these colors. There are several, and they are quite vivid. Julius Schmidt claims that, if Earth’s oceans dried up, a Selenite observer would see a similar variety of shades. The difference between the ocean beds and the continental plains would be no greater than that seen on the moon from Earth. According to him, the vast plains known as “seas” are generally dark gray mixed with green and brown. Some large craters have the same appearance. Barbicane knew this opinion of the German selenographer, which Boeer and Moedler shared. Observation has proved them right. Some astronomers, by contrast, believe that the moon’s surface is only gray. In some places, green was very distinct. According to Julius Schmidt, this green comes from the seas of “Serenity and Humors.” Barbicane also noticed large craters without any cones inside them. These gave off a bluish tint like the reflection from a freshly polished sheet of steel. These colors really belonged to the lunar disc. Some astronomers say they were caused by imperfections in the lenses of telescopes or by Earth’s atmosphere.

Not a doubt existed in Barbicane’s mind with regard to it, as he observed it through space, and so could not commit any optical error. He considered the establishment of this fact as an acquisition to science. Now, were these shades of green, belonging to tropical vegetation, kept up by a low dense atmosphere? He could not yet say.

Barbicane had no doubt about it. He observed it through space, so he could not have been mistaken by an optical illusion. He considered this discovery a contribution to science. But were these shades of green, signs of tropical vegetation, sustained by a low, dense atmosphere? He could not yet say.

Farther on, he noticed a reddish tint, quite defined. The same shade had before been observed at the bottom of an isolated enclosure, known by the name of Lichtenburg’s circle, which is situated near the Hercynian mountains, on the borders of the moon; but they could not tell the nature of it.

Farther on, he noticed a distinct reddish tint. The same shade had been seen before at the bottom of an isolated enclosure called Lichtenburg’s circle. It lies near the Hercynian mountains, at the edge of the moon. But they could not tell what caused the color.

They were not more fortunate with regard to another peculiarity of the disc, for they could not decide upon the cause of it.

They had no better luck with another unusual feature of the disc. They could not determine what caused it.

Michel Ardan was watching near the president, when he noticed long white lines, vividly lighted up by the direct rays of the sun. It was a succession of luminous furrows, very different from the radiation of Copernicus not long before; they ran parallel with each other.

Michel Ardan was watching beside the president when he noticed long white lines, brightly lit by the sun’s direct rays. These glowing furrows ran parallel to one another. They looked very different from the rays of Copernicus he had seen shortly before.

Michel, with his usual readiness, hastened to exclaim:

Michel, always quick to speak, exclaimed:

“Look there! cultivated fields!”

“Look there! Farm fields!”

“Cultivated fields!” replied Nicholl, shrugging his shoulders.

“Cultivated fields!” Nicholl replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Plowed, at all events,” retorted Michel Ardan; “but what laborers those Selenites must be, and what giant oxen they must harness to their plow to cut such furrows!”

“Plowed, at any rate,” replied Michel Ardan. “But what workers those Selenites must be! And what giant oxen they must harness to their plow to cut such furrows!”

“They are not furrows,” said Barbicane; “they are rifts.”

“They are not furrows,” said Barbicane. “They are rifts.”

“Rifts? stuff!” replied Michel mildly; “but what do you mean by ‘rifts’ in the scientific world?”

“Rifts? Nonsense!” Michel replied mildly. “But what do you mean by ‘rifts’ in the scientific world?”

Barbicane immediately enlightened his companion as to what he knew about lunar rifts. He knew that they were a kind of furrow found on every part of the disc which was not mountainous; that these furrows, generally isolated, measured from 400 to 500 leagues in length; that their breadth varied from 1,000 to 1,500 yards, and that their borders were strictly parallel; but he knew nothing more either of their formation or their nature.

Barbicane immediately told his companion what he knew about lunar rifts. They were a kind of furrow found everywhere on the moon’s disc that was not mountainous. These furrows were usually isolated and measured 400 to 500 leagues in length. They varied from 1,000 to 1,500 yards in width, and their edges were strictly parallel. But he knew nothing more about how they formed or what they were.

Barbicane, through his glasses, observed these rifts with great attention. He noticed that their borders were formed of steep declivities; they were long parallel ramparts, and with some small amount of imagination he might have admitted the existence of long lines of fortifications, raised by Selenite engineers. Of these different rifts some were perfectly straight, as if cut by a line; others were slightly curved, though still keeping their borders parallel; some crossed each other, some cut through craters; here they wound through ordinary cavities, such as Posidonius or Petavius; there they wound through the seas, such as the “Sea of Serenity.”

Barbicane studied these rifts closely through his glasses. He noticed that their edges were steep slopes, forming long, parallel ramparts. With a little imagination, he might have seen them as long lines of fortifications built by Selenite engineers. Some of the rifts were perfectly straight, as if drawn with a ruler. Others curved slightly, though their edges remained parallel. Some crossed one another, and some cut through craters. In some places, they wound through ordinary hollows, such as Posidonius or Petavius. Elsewhere, they wound through the seas, such as the “Sea of Serenity.”

These natural accidents naturally excited the imaginations of these terrestrial astronomers. The first observations had not discovered these rifts. Neither Hévelius, Cassin, La Hire, nor Herschel seemed to have known them. It was Schroeter who in 1789 first drew attention to them. Others followed who studied them, as Pastorff, Gruithuysen, Boeer, and Moedler. At this time their number amounts to seventy; but, if they have been counted, their nature has not yet been determined; they are certainly not fortifications, any more than they are the ancient beds of dried-up rivers; for, on one side, the waters, so slight on the moon’s surface, could never have worn such drains for themselves; and, on the other, they often cross craters of great elevation.

These natural features naturally stirred the imaginations of astronomers on Earth. Early observations had not revealed these rifts. Hévelius, Cassin, La Hire, and Herschel all seemed unaware of them. Schroeter first drew attention to them in 1789. Others followed and studied them, including Pastorff, Gruithuysen, Boeer, and Moedler. By this time, seventy had been counted. But although they had been counted, their nature had not yet been determined. They are certainly not fortifications, nor are they the ancient beds of dried-up rivers. For one thing, there was too little water on the moon’s surface to have worn such channels. For another, the rifts often cross high craters.

We must, however, allow that Michel Ardan had “an idea,” and that, without knowing it, he coincided in that respect with Julius Schmidt.

We must admit, however, that Michel Ardan had “an idea.” Without knowing it, he shared that idea with Julius Schmidt.

“Why,” said he, “should not these unaccountable appearances be simply phenomena of vegetation?”

“Why,” he said, “couldn’t these unexplained appearances simply be signs of vegetation?”

“What do you mean?” asked Barbicane quickly.

“What do you mean?” Barbicane asked quickly.

“Do not excite yourself, my worthy president,” replied Michel; “might it not be possible that the dark lines forming that bastion were rows of trees regularly placed?”

“Don't get excited, my good president,” replied Michel. “Couldn't the dark lines forming that bastion be rows of evenly spaced trees?”

“You stick to your vegetation, then?” said Barbicane.

“So you still believe there’s vegetation?” said Barbicane.

“I like,” retorted Michel Ardan, “to explain what you savants cannot explain; at least my hypotheses has the advantage of indicating why these rifts disappear, or seem to disappear, at certain seasons.”

“I like to explain what you scientists cannot,” Michel Ardan retorted. “At least my hypothesis has an advantage. It suggests why these rifts disappear, or seem to disappear, at certain times of the year.”

“And for what reason?”

“And why?”

“For the reason that the trees become invisible when they lose their leaves, and visible again when they regain them.”

“Because the trees become invisible when they lose their leaves, and visible again when their leaves grow back.”

“Your explanation is ingenious, my dear companion,” replied Barbicane, “but inadmissible.”

“Your explanation is clever, my dear friend,” replied Barbicane, “but it cannot be accepted.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Because, so to speak, there are no seasons on the moon’s surface, and that, consequently, the phenomena of vegetation of which you speak cannot occur.”

“Because, so to speak, there are no seasons on the moon’s surface. So the plant growth you speak of cannot occur.”

Indeed, the slight obliquity of the lunar axis keeps the sun at an almost equal height in every latitude. Above the equatorial regions the radiant orb almost invariably occupies the zenith, and does not pass the limits of the horizon in the polar regions; thus, according to each region, there reigns a perpetual winter, spring, summer, or autumn, as in the planet Jupiter, whose axis is but little inclined upon its orbit.

Indeed, the slight tilt of the Moon’s axis keeps the sun at almost the same height at every latitude. Above the equatorial regions, the sun is almost always directly overhead. In the polar regions, it never rises above the horizon. Thus, depending on the region, winter, spring, summer, or autumn lasts forever. The same is true on Jupiter, whose axis is tilted only slightly relative to its orbit.

What origin do they attribute to these rifts? That is a question difficult to solve. They are certainly anterior to the formation of craters and circles, for several have introduced themselves by breaking through their circular ramparts. Thus it may be that, contemporary with the later geological epochs, they are due to the expansion of natural forces.

What do they believe caused these rifts? That is a difficult question to answer. The rifts certainly formed before the craters and circles, since several broke through their circular walls. The rifts may therefore date from the later geological periods and result from the expansion of natural forces.

But the projectile had now attained the fortieth degree of lunar latitude, at a distance not exceeding 40 miles. Through the glasses objects appeared to be only four miles distant.

But the projectile had now reached the fortieth degree of lunar latitude, no more than 40 miles from the Moon. Through the glasses, objects appeared to be only four miles away.

At this point, under their feet, rose Mount Helicon, 1,520 feet high, and round about the left rose moderate elevations, enclosing a small portion of the “Sea of Rains,” under the name of the Gulf of Iris. The terrestrial atmosphere would have to be one hundred and seventy times more transparent than it is, to allow astronomers to make perfect observations on the moon’s surface; but in the void in which the projectile floated no fluid interposed itself between the eye of the observer and the object observed. And more, Barbicane found himself carried to a greater distance than the most powerful telescopes had ever done before, either that of Lord Rosse or that of the Rocky Mountains. He was, therefore, under extremely favorable conditions for solving that great question of the habitability of the moon; but the solution still escaped him; he could distinguish nothing but desert beds, immense plains, and toward the north, arid mountains. Not a work betrayed the hand of man; not a ruin marked his course; not a group of animals was to be seen indicating life, even in an inferior degree. In no part was there life, in no part was there an appearance of vegetation. Of the three kingdoms which share the terrestrial globe between them, one alone was represented on the lunar and that the mineral.

At this point, Mount Helicon rose beneath their feet, 1,520 feet high. To the left, moderate elevations surrounded a small part of the “Sea of Rains” called the Gulf of Iris. Earth’s atmosphere would have to be 170 times more transparent for astronomers to observe the moon’s surface perfectly. But the projectile floated in a void, with no fluid between the observer’s eye and the object observed. What was more, Barbicane had been carried farther than the most powerful telescopes had ever reached. Neither Lord Rosse’s telescope nor the one in the Rocky Mountains had reached so far. Barbicane was therefore in an extremely favorable position to solve the great question of the moon’s habitability. But the answer still escaped him. He could see nothing but desert beds, immense plains, and, to the north, dry mountains. No work showed the hand of man. No ruin marked his passage. No group of animals could be seen to indicate even a lower form of life. Nowhere was there life or any sign of vegetation. Of the three kingdoms that share the Earth, only one was represented on the moon: the mineral kingdom.

“Ah, indeed!” said Michel Ardan, a little out of countenance; “then you see no one?”

“Oh, really!” said Michel Ardan, looking a little embarrassed. “Then you don’t see anyone?”

“No,” answered Nicholl; “up to this time, not a man, not an animal, not a tree! After all, whether the atmosphere has taken refuge at the bottom of cavities, in the midst of the circles, or even on the opposite face of the moon, we cannot decide.”

“No,” answered Nicholl. “So far, not a man, not an animal, not a tree! We cannot tell whether the atmosphere has retreated to the bottoms of cavities, inside the circles, or even to the opposite side of the moon.”

“Besides,” added Barbicane, “even to the most piercing eye a man cannot be distinguished farther than three and a half miles off; so that, if there are any Selenites, they can see our projectile, but we cannot see them.”

“Besides,” added Barbicane, “even the sharpest eyes cannot see a person more than three and a half miles away. So if there are any Selenites, they can see our projectile, but we cannot see them.”

Toward four in the morning, at the height of the fiftieth parallel, the distance was reduced to 300 miles. To the left ran a line of mountains capriciously shaped, lying in the full light. To the right, on the contrary, lay a black hollow resembling a vast well, unfathomable and gloomy, drilled into the lunar soil.

Around four in the morning, at the fiftieth parallel, the distance had decreased to 300 miles. On the left, a line of oddly shaped mountains lay in full light. On the right, by contrast, was a dark hollow in the lunar soil. It resembled a vast well, bottomless and gloomy.

This hole was the “Black Lake”; it was Pluto, a deep circle which can be conveniently studied from the earth, between the last quarter and the new moon, when the shadows fall from west to east.

This hole was the “Black Lake”, or Pluto, a deep circle. It can be easily studied from Earth between the last quarter and the new moon, when shadows fall from west to east.

This black color is rarely met with on the surface of the satellite. As yet it has only been recognized in the depths of the circle of Endymion, to the east of the “Cold Sea,” in the northern hemisphere, and at the bottom of Grimaldi’s circle, on the equator, toward the eastern border of the orb.

This black color is rarely found on the moon’s surface. So far, it has been seen only in the depths of the circle of Endymion and at the bottom of Grimaldi’s circle. Endymion lies east of the “Cold Sea” in the northern hemisphere. Grimaldi’s circle lies on the equator, toward the eastern edge of the moon.

Pluto is an annular mountain, situated in 51° north latitude, and 9° east longitude. Its circuit is forty-seven miles long and thirty-two broad.

Pluto is a ring-shaped mountain at 51° north latitude and 9° east longitude. Its ring is forty-seven miles long and thirty-two miles wide.

Barbicane regretted that they were not passing directly above this vast opening. There was an abyss to fathom, perhaps some mysterious phenomenon to surprise; but the projectile’s course could not be altered. They must rigidly submit. They could not guide a balloon, still less a projectile, when once enclosed within its walls. Toward five in the morning the northern limits of the “Sea of Rains” was at length passed. The mounts of Condamine and Fontenelle remained—one on the right, the other on the left. That part of the disc beginning with 60° was becoming quite mountainous. The glasses brought them to within two miles, less than that separating the summit of Mont Blanc from the level of the sea. The whole region was bristling with spikes and circles. Toward the 60° Philolaus stood predominant at a height of 5,550 feet with its elliptical crater, and seen from this distance, the disc showed a very fantastical appearance. Landscapes were presented to the eye under very different conditions from those on the earth, and also very inferior to them.

Barbicane wished they were passing directly over this vast opening. There was an abyss to explore, and perhaps a mysterious phenomenon to discover. But the projectile’s course could not be changed. They had no choice but to submit. Once enclosed inside a balloon, they could not steer it, much less a projectile. Around five in the morning, they finally passed the northern edge of the “Sea of Rains”. Mount Condamine remained on the right and Mount Fontenelle on the left. From 60° onward, the disc was becoming quite mountainous. Their glasses brought the mountains to within two miles, less than the distance from sea level to the summit of Mont Blanc. The whole region bristled with peaks and rings. Near 60°, Philolaus towered above the rest at 5,550 feet, with its elliptical crater. Seen from this distance, the disc looked very strange. The landscapes appeared under conditions very different from those on Earth, and far inferior to them.

The moon having no atmosphere, the consequences arising from the absence of this gaseous envelope have already been shown. No twilight on her surface; night following day and day following night with the suddenness of a lamp which is extinguished or lighted amid profound darkness—no transition from cold to heat, the temperature falling in an instant from boiling point to the cold of space.

The moon has no atmosphere, and the consequences of its absence have already been shown. There is no twilight on its surface. Night follows day, and day follows night, as suddenly as a lamp is switched off or on in deep darkness. There is no gradual change between cold and heat. The temperature falls instantly from boiling point to the cold of space.

Another consequence of this want of air is that absolute darkness reigns where the sun’s rays do not penetrate. That which on earth is called diffusion of light, that luminous matter which the air holds in suspension, which creates the twilight and the daybreak, which produces the umbrae and penumbrae, and all the magic of chiaro-oscuro, does not exist on the moon. Hence the harshness of contrasts, which only admit of two colors, black and white. If a Selenite were to shade his eyes from the sun’s rays, the sky would seem absolutely black, and the stars would shine to him as on the darkest night. Judge of the impression produced on Barbicane and his three friends by this strange scene! Their eyes were confused. They could no longer grasp the respective distances of the different plains. A lunar landscape without the softening of the phenomena of chiaro-oscuro could not be rendered by an earthly landscape painter; it would be spots of ink on a white page—nothing more.

Another consequence of this lack of air is that total darkness reigns wherever the sun’s rays cannot reach. On earth, the air holds luminous matter in suspension, diffusing light. This creates twilight and dawn, produces umbrae and penumbrae, and creates all the magic of chiaro-oscuro. None of this exists on the moon. As a result, the contrasts are harsh, allowing only two colors, black and white. If a Selenite shaded his eyes from the sun’s rays, the sky would seem completely black. The stars would shine for him as on the darkest night. Imagine the impression this strange scene made on Barbicane and his three friends! Their eyes were confused. They could no longer judge the distances between the different plains. An earthly landscape painter could not depict a lunar landscape without the softening effects of chiaro-oscuro. It would be nothing more than spots of ink on a white page.

This aspect was not altered even when the projectile, at the height of 80°, was only separated from the moon by a distance of fifty miles; nor even when, at five in the morning, it passed at less than twenty-five miles from the mountain of Gioja, a distance reduced by the glasses to a quarter of a mile. It seemed as if the moon might be touched by the hand! It seemed impossible that, before long, the projectile would not strike her, if only at the north pole, the brilliant arch of which was so distinctly visible on the black sky.

The view did not change even when the projectile, at an altitude of 80°, was only fifty miles from the moon. Nor did it change at five in the morning, when the projectile passed less than twenty-five miles from the mountain of Gioja. Through the glasses, that distance seemed reduced to a quarter of a mile. It seemed as if the moon could be touched by hand! It seemed impossible that the projectile would not soon strike it, even if only at the north pole. The pole’s brilliant arc was so clearly visible against the black sky.

Michel Ardan wanted to open one of the scuttles and throw himself on to the moon’s surface! A very useless attempt; for if the projectile could not attain any point whatever of the satellite, Michel, carried along by its motion, could not attain it either.

Michel Ardan wanted to open one of the hatches and throw himself onto the moon’s surface! It would have been a useless attempt. If the projectile could not reach any point on the moon, neither could Michel, carried along by its motion.

At that moment, at six o’clock, the lunar pole appeared. The disc only presented to the travelers’ gaze one half brilliantly lit up, while the other disappeared in the darkness. Suddenly the projectile passed the line of demarcation between intense light and absolute darkness, and was plunged in profound night!

At that moment, at six o’clock, the lunar pole came into view. The travelers could see that one half of the disc was brilliantly lit, while the other was hidden in darkness. Suddenly, the projectile crossed the line between intense light and absolute darkness and plunged into the deep night!