CHAPTER II.
PRESIDENT BARBICANE'S COMMUNICATION.
On the 5th of October, at 8 p.m., a dense crowd pressed towards thesaloons of the Gun Club at No. 21, Union Square. All the members ofthe association resident in Baltimore attended the invitation of theirpresident. As regards the corresponding members, notices were deliveredby hundreds throughout the streets of the city, and, large as was thegreat hall, it was quite inadequate to accommodate the crowd of _savants_.They overflowed into the adjoining rooms, down the narrow passages, intothe outer courtyards. There they ran against the vulgar herd who pressedup to the doors, each struggling to reach the front ranks, all eager tolearn the nature of the important communication of President Barbicane;all pushing, squeezing, crushing with that perfect freedom of action whichis peculiar to the masses when educated in ideas of "self-government."
On that evening a stranger who might have chanced to be in Baltimorecould not have gained admission for love or money into the great hall.That was reserved exclusively for resident or corresponding members; noone else could possibly have obtained a place; and the city magnates,municipal councillors, and "select men" were compelled to mingle with themere townspeople in order to catch stray bits of news from the interior.
Nevertheless the vast hall presented a curious spectacle. Its immensearea was singularly adapted to the purpose. Lofty pillars formed ofcannon, superposed upon huge mortars as a base, supported the fineironwork of the arches, a perfect piece of cast-iron lacework. Trophiesof blunderbuses, matchlocks, arquebuses, carbines, all kinds of fire-arms,ancient and modern, were picturesquely interlaced against the walls.The gas lit up in full glare myriads of revolvers grouped in the formof lustres, whilst groups of pistols, and candelabra formed of musketsbound together, completed this magnificent display of brilliance. Modelsof cannon, bronze castings, sights covered with dents, plates battered bythe shots of the Gun Club, assortments of rammers and sponges, chapletsof shells, wreaths of projectiles, garlands of howitzers--in short, allthe apparatus of the artillerist, enchanted the eye by this wonderfularrangement and induced a kind of belief that their real purpose wasornamental rather than deadly.
At the further end of the saloon the president, assisted by foursecretaries, occupied a large platform. His chair, supported by a carvedgun-carriage, was modelled upon the ponderous proportions of a 32-inchmortar. It was pointed at an angle of ninety degrees, and suspended upontrunnions, so that the president could balance himself upon it as upona rocking-chair, a very agreeable fact in the very hot weather. Upon thetable (a huge iron plate supported upon six carronnades) stood an inkstandof exquisite elegance, made of a beautifully chased Spanish piece, and asonnette, which, when required, could give forth a report equal to thatof a revolver. During violent debates this novel kind of bell scarcelysufficed to drown the clamour of these excitable artillerists.
In front of the table benches arranged in zigzag form, like thecircumvallations of a retrenchment, formed a succession of bastions andcurtains set apart for the use of the members of the club; and on thisespecial evening one might say, "All the world was on the ramparts." Thepresident was sufficiently well known, however, for all to be assuredthat he would not put his colleagues to discomfort without some verystrong motive.
Impey Barbicane was a man of forty years of age, calm, cold, austere;of a singularly serious and self-contained demeanour, punctual as achronometer, of imperturbable temper and immovable character; by no meanschivalrous, yet adventurous withal, and always bringing practical ideasto bear upon the very rashest enterprises; an essentially New-Englander,a Northern colonist, a descendant of the old anti-Stuart Roundheads,and the implacable enemy of the gentlemen of the South, those ancientCavaliers of the mother-country. In a word, he was a Yankee to thebackbone.
Barbicane had made a large fortune as a timber-merchant. Being nominatedDirector of Artillery during the war, he proved himself fertile ininvention. Bold in his conceptions, he contributed powerfully tothe progress of that arm and gave an immense impetus to experimentalresearches.
He was a personage of the middle height, having, by a rare exceptionin the Gun Club, all his limbs complete. His strongly-marked featuresseemed drawn by square and rule; and if it be true that, in order tojudge of a man's character one must look at his profile, Barbicane, soexamined, exhibited the most certain indications of energy, audacity,and _sang-froid._
At this moment he was sitting in his armchair, silent, absorbed, lost inreflection, sheltered under his high-crowned hat--a kind of black silkcylinder which always seems firmly screwed upon the head of an American.
Just when the deep-toned clock in the great hall struck eight, Barbicane,as if he had been set in motion by a spring, raised himself up. A profoundsilence ensued, and the speaker, in a somewhat emphatic tone of voice,commenced as follows:--
"My brave colleagues, too long already a paralyzing peace has plungedthe members of the Gun Club in deplorable inactivity. After a period ofyears full of incidents we have been compelled to abandon our labours,and to stop short on the road of progress. I do not hesitate to state,boldly, that any war which should recall us to arms would be welcome!"(_Tremendous applause!_)
Illustration: PRESIDENT BARBICANE.
"But war, gentlemen, is impossible under existing circumstances; and,however we may desire it, many years may elapse before our cannon shallagain thunder in the field of battle. We must make up our minds, then,to seek in another train of ideas some field for the activity which weall pine for."
The meeting felt that the president was now approaching the criticalpoint, and redoubled their attention accordingly.
"For some months past, my brave colleagues," continued Barbicane, "Ihave been asking myself whether, while confining ourselves to our ownparticular objects, we could not enter upon some grand experiment worthyof the nineteenth century; and whether the progress of artillery sciencewould not enable us to carry it out to a successful issue. I have beenconsidering, working, calculating; and the result of my studies is theconviction that we are safe to succeed in an enterprise which to anyother country would appear wholly impracticable. This project, the resultof long elaboration, is the object of my present communication. It isworthy of yourselves, worthy of the antecedents of the Gun Club; and itcannot fail to make some noise in the world."
A thrill of excitement ran through the meeting.
Barbicane, having by a rapid movement firmly fixed his hat upon his head,calmly continued his harangue:--
"There is no one among you, my brave colleagues, who has not seen _theMoon,_ or, at least, heard speak of it. Don't be surprised if I am aboutto discourse to you regarding this Queen of the Night. It is perhapsreserved for us to become the Columbuses of this unknown world. Only enterinto my plans, and second me with all your power, and I will lead youto its conquest, and its name shall be added to those of the thirty-sixStates which compose this Great Union."
"Three cheers for the Moon!" roared the Gun Club, with one voice.
"The moon, gentlemen, has been carefully studied," continued Barbicane;"her mass, density, and weight; her constitution, motions, distance, aswell as her place in the solar system, have all been exactly determined.Selenographic charts have been constructed with a perfection which equals,if it does not even surpass, that of our terrestrial maps. Photographyhas given us proofs of the incomparable beauty of our satellite; in short,all is known regarding the moon which mathematical science, astronomy,geology, and optics can learn about her. But up to the present moment nodirect communication has been established with her."
A violent movement of interest and surprise here greeted this remark ofthe speaker.
"Permit me," he continued, "to recount to you briefly how certain ardentspirits, starting on imaginary journeys, have penetrated the secretsof our satellite. In the seventeenth century a certain David Fabriciusboasted of having seen with his own eyes the inhabitants of the moon. In1649 a Frenchman, one Jean Baudoin, published a 'Journey performed fromthe Earth to the Moon by
Domingo Gonzalez,' a Spanish Adventurer. Atthe same period Cyrano de Bergerac published that celebrated 'Journeysin the Moon' which met with such success in France. Somewhat lateranother Frenchman, named Fontenelle, wrote 'The Plurality of Worlds,'a _chef-d'oeuvre_ of its time. About 1835 a small treatise, translatedfrom the _New York American_, related how Sir John Herschell, havingbeen despatched to the Cape of Good Hope for the purpose of making theresome astronomical calculations, had, by means of a telescope brought toperfection by means of internal lighting, reduced the apparent distance ofthe moon to eighty yards! He then distinctly perceived caverns frequentedby hippopotami, green mountains bordered by golden lace-work, sheep withhorns of ivory, a white species of deer and inhabitants with membranouswings, like bats. This _brochure,_ the work of an American named Locke,had a great sale. But, to bring this rapid sketch to a close, I willonly add that a certain Hans Pfaal, of Rotterdam, launching himself ina balloon filled with a gas extracted from nitrogen, thirty-seven timeslighter than hydrogen, reached the moon after a passage of nineteenhours. This journey, like all the previous ones, was purely imaginary;still, it was the work of a popular American author--I mean Edgar Poe!"
Illustration: MEETING OF THE GUN CLUB.
"Cheers for Edgar Poe!" roared the assemblage, electrified by theirpresident's words.
"I have now enumerated," said Barbicane, "the experiments which Icall purely paper ones, and wholly insufficient to establish seriousrelations with the Queen of Night. Nevertheless, I am bound to add thatsome practical geniuses have attempted to establish actual communicationwith her. Thus, a few years ago, a German geometrician proposed tosend a scientific expedition to the steppes of Siberia. There, on thosevast plains, they were to describe enormous geometric figures, drawnin characters of reflecting luminosity, amongst which was the prop.regarding the 'square of the hypothenuse,' commonly called the '_Ass'sbridge_' by the French. 'Every intelligent being,' said the geometrician,'must understand the scientific meaning of that figure. The Selenites, dothey exist, will respond by a similar figure; and, a communication beingthus once established, it will be easy to form an alphabet which shallenable us to converse with the inhabitants of the moon.' So spoke theGerman geometrician; but his project was never put into practice, and upto the present day there is no bond in existence between the earth andher satellite. It is reserved for the practical genius of Americans toestablish a communication with the sidereal world. The means of arrivingthither are simple, easy, certain, infallible--and that is the purposeof my present proposal."
A storm of acclamations greeted these words. There was not a singleperson in the whole audience who was not overcome, carried away, liftedout of himself by the speaker's words!
Long continued applause resounded from all sides.
As soon as the excitement had partially subsided, Barbicane resumed hisspeech in a somewhat graver voice.
"You know," said he, "what progress artillery science has made duringthe last few years, and what a degree of perfection firearms of everykind have reached. Moreover, you are well aware that, in general terms,the resisting power of cannon and the expansive force of gunpowder arepractically unlimited. Well! starting from this principle, I ask myselfwhether, supposing sufficient apparatus could be obtained constructedupon the conditions of ascertained resistance, it might not be possibleto project a shot up to the moon?"
At these words a murmur of amazement escaped from a thousand pantingchests; then succeeded a moment of perfect silence, resembling thatprofound stillness which precedes the bursting of a thunderstorm. Inpoint of fact, a thunderstorm did peal forth, but it was the thunder ofapplause, of cries, and of uproar which made the very hall tremble. Thepresident attempted to speak, but could not. It was fully ten minutesbefore he could make himself heard.
"Suffer me to finish," he calmly continued. "I have looked at thequestion in all its bearings, I have resolutely attacked it, and byincontrovertible calculations I find that a projectile endowed with aninitial velocity of 12,000 yards per second, and aimed at the moon, mustnecessarily reach it. I have the honour, my brave colleagues, to proposea trial of this little experiment."