The Moon-Voyage | Page 7

of perfection firearms
would have been brought if the war had gone on. You are not ignorant
in general that the power of resistance of cannons and the expansive
force of powder are unlimited. Well, starting from that principle, I
asked myself if, by means of sufficient apparatus, established under
determined conditions of resistance, it would not be possible to send a
cannon-ball to the moon!"
At these words an "Oh!" of stupefaction escaped from a thousand

panting breasts; then occurred a moment of silence, like the profound
calm that precedes thunder. In fact, the thunder came, but a thunder of
applause, cries, and clamour which made the meeting-hall shake again.
The president tried to speak; he could not. It was only at the end of ten
minutes that he succeeded in making himself heard.
"Let me finish," he resumed coldly. "I have looked at the question in all
its aspects, and from my indisputable calculations it results that any
projectile, hurled at an initial speed of twelve thousand yards a second,
and directed at the moon, must necessarily reach her. I have, therefore,
the honour of proposing to you, my worthy colleagues, the attempting
of this little experiment."



CHAPTER III
.
EFFECT OF PRESIDENT BARBICANE'S COMMUNICATION.
It is impossible to depict the effect produced by the last words of the
honourable president. What cries! what vociferations! What a
succession of groans, hurrahs, cheers, and all the onomatopoeia of
which the American language is so full. It was an indescribable hubbub
and disorder. Mouths, hands, and feet made as much noise as they
could. All the weapons in this artillery museum going off at once
would not have more violently agitated the waves of sound. That is not
surprising; there are cannoneers nearly as noisy as their cannons.
Barbicane remained calm amidst these enthusiastic clamours; perhaps
he again wished to address some words to his colleagues, for his
gestures asked for silence, and his fulminating bell exhausted itself in
violent detonations; it was not even heard. He was soon dragged from
his chair, carried in triumph, and from the hands of his faithful
comrades he passed into those of the no less excited crowd.
Nothing can astonish an American. It has often been repeated that the
word "impossible" is not French; the wrong dictionary must have been
taken by mistake. In America everything is easy, everything is simple,

and as to mechanical difficulties, they are dead before they are born.
Between the Barbicane project and its realisation not one true Yankee
would have allowed himself to see even the appearance of a difficulty.
As soon said as done.
The triumphant march of the president was prolonged during the
evening. A veritable torchlight procession--Irish, Germans, Frenchmen,
Scotchmen--all the heterogeneous individuals that compose the
population of Maryland--shouted in their maternal tongue, and the
cheering was unanimous.
Precisely as if she knew it was all about her, the moon shone out then
with serene magnificence, eclipsing other lights with her intense
irradiation. All the Yankees directed their eyes towards the shining disc;
some saluted her with their hands, others called her by the sweetest
names; between eight o'clock and midnight an optician in
Jones-Fall-street made a fortune by selling field-glasses. The Queen of
Night was looked at through them like a lady of high life. The
Americans acted in regard to her with the freedom of proprietors. It
seemed as if the blonde Phoebe belonged to these enterprising
conquerors and already formed part of the Union territory. And yet the
only question was that of sending a projectile--a rather brutal way of
entering into communication even with a satellite, but much in vogue
amongst civilised nations.
Midnight had just struck, and the enthusiasm did not diminish; it was
kept up in equal doses in all classes of the population; magistrates,
_savants_, merchants, tradesmen, street-porters, intelligent as well as
"green" men were moved even in their most delicate fibres. It was a
national enterprise; the high town, low town, the quays bathed by the
waters of the Patapsco, the ships, imprisoned in their docks, overflowed
with crowds intoxicated with joy, gin, and whisky; everybody talked,
argued, perorated, disputed, approved, and applauded, from the
gentleman comfortably stretched on the bar-room couch before his
glass of "sherry-cobbler" to the waterman who got drunk upon
"knock-me-down" in the dark taverns of Fell's Point.
However, about 2 a.m. the emotion became calmer. President
Barbicane succeeded in getting home almost knocked to pieces. A
Hercules could not have resisted such enthusiasm. The crowd gradually
abandoned the squares and streets. The four railroads of Ohio,

Susquehanna, Philadelphia, and Washington, which converge at
Baltimore, took the heterogeneous population to the four corners of the
United States, and the town reposed in a relative tranquillity.
It would be an error to believe