What had happened? Whence the cause of this singular
intoxication, the consequences of which might have been
very disastrous? A simple blunder of Michel's, which,
fortunately, Nicholl was able to correct in time.
After a perfect swoon, which lasted some minutes, the captain,
recovering first, soon collected his scattered senses.
Although he had breakfasted only two hours before, he felt a
gnawing hunger, as if he had not eaten anything for several days.
Everything about him, stomach and brain, were overexcited to the
highest degree. He got up and demanded from Michel a
supplementary repast. Michel, utterly done up, did not answer.
Nicholl then tried to prepare some tea destined to help the
absorption of a dozen sandwiches. He first tried to get some
fire, and struck a match sharply. What was his surprise to see
the sulphur shine with so extraordinary a brilliancy as to be
almost unbearable to the eye. From the gas-burner which he lit
rose a flame equal to a jet of electric light.
A revelation dawned on Nicholl's mind. That intensity of light,
the physiological troubles which had arisen in him, the
overexcitement of all his moral and quarrelsome faculties-- he
understood all.
"The oxygen!" he exclaimed.
And leaning over the air apparatus, he saw that the tap was
allowing the colorless gas to escape freely, life-giving, but in
its pure state producing the gravest disorders in the system.
Michel had blunderingly opened the tap of the apparatus to the full.
Nicholl hastened to stop the escape of oxygen with which the
atmosphere was saturated, which would have been the death of the
travelers, not by suffocation, but by combustion. An hour
later, the air less charged with it restored the lungs to their
normal condition. By degrees the three friends recovered from
their intoxication; but they were obliged to sleep themselves
sober over their oxygen as a drunkard does over his wine.
When Michel learned his share of the responsibility of this
incident, he was not much disconcerted. This unexpected
drunkenness broke the monotony of the journey. Many foolish
things had been said while under its influence, but also
quickly forgotten.
"And then," added the merry Frenchman, "I am not sorry to have
tasted a little of this heady gas. Do you know, my friends,
that a curious establishment might be founded with rooms of
oxygen, where people whose system is weakened could for a few
hours live a more active life. Fancy parties where the room was
saturated with this heroic fluid, theaters where it should be
kept at high pressure; what passion in the souls of the actors
and spectators! what fire, what enthusiasm! And if, instead of
an assembly only a whole people could be saturated, what activity
in its functions, what a supplement to life it would derive.
From an exhausted nation they might make a great and strong one,
and I know more than one state in old Europe which ought to put
itself under the regime of oxygen for the sake of its health!"
Michel spoke with so much animation that one might have fancied
that the tap was still too open. But a few words from Barbicane
soon shattered his enthusiasm.
"That is all very well, friend Michel," said he, "but will you
inform us where these chickens came from which have mixed
themselves up in our concert?"
"Those chickens?"
"Yes."
Indeed, half a dozen chickens and a fine cock were walking
about, flapping their wings and chattering.
"Ah, the awkward things!" exclaimed Michel. "The oxygen has
made them revolt."
"But what do you want to do with these chickens?" asked Barbicane.
"To acclimatize them in the moon, by Jove!"
"Then why did you hide them?"
"A joke, my worthy president, a simple joke, which has proved a
miserable failure. I wanted to set them free on the lunar
continent, without saying anything. Oh, what would have been
your amazement on seeing these earthly-winged animals pecking in
your lunar fields!"
"You rascal, you unmitigated rascal," replied Barbicane, "you do
not want oxygen to mount to the head. You are always what we
were under the influence of the gas; you are always foolish!"
"Ah, who says that we were not wise then?" replied Michel Ardan.
After this philosophical reflection, the three friends set about
restoring the order of the projectile. Chickens and cock were
reinstated in their coop. But while proceeding with this
operation, Barbicane and his two companions had a most desired
perception of a new phenomenon. From the moment of leaving the
earth, their own weight, that of the projectile, and the objects
it enclosed, had been subject to an increasing diminution. If they
could not prove this loss of the projectile, a moment would arrive
when it would be sensibly felt upon themselves and the utensils
and instruments they used.
It is needless to say that a scale would not show this loss; for
the weight destined to weight the object would have lost exactly
as much as the object itself; but a spring steelyard for
example, the tension of which was independent of the attraction,
would have given a just estimate of this loss.
We know that the attraction, otherwise called the weight, is in
proportion to the densities of the bodies, and inversely as the
squares of the distances. Hence this effect: If the earth had
been alone in space, if the other celestial bodies had been
suddenly annihilated, the projectile, according to Newton's
laws, would weigh less as it got farther from the earth, but
without ever losing its weight entirely, for the terrestrial
attraction would always have made itself felt, at whatever distance.
But, in reality, a time must come when the projectile would no
longer be subject to the law of weight, after allowing for the
other celestial bodies whose effect could not be set down as zero.
Indeed, the projectile's course was being traced between
the earth and the moon. As it distanced the earth, the
terrestrial attraction diminished: but the lunar attraction
rose in proportion. There must come a point where these two
attractions would neutralize each other: the projectile would
possess weight no longer. If the moon's and the earth's
densities had been equal, this point would have been at an equal
distance between the two orbs. But taking the different
densities into consideration, it was easy to reckon that this
point would be situated at 47/60ths of the whole journey,
i.e., at 78,514 leagues from the earth. At this point, a body
having no principle of speed or displacement in itself, would
remain immovable forever, being attracted equally by both orbs,
and not being drawn more toward one than toward the other.
Now if the projectile's impulsive force had been correctly
calculated, it would attain this point without speed, having
lost all trace of weight, as well as all the objects within it.
What would happen then? Three hypotheses presented themselves.
1. Either it would retain a certain amount of motion, and pass
the point of equal attraction, and fall upon the moon by virtue
of the excess of the lunar attraction over the terrestrial.
2. Or, its speed failing, and unable to reach the point of equal
attraction, it would fall upon the earth by virtue of the excess
of the terrestrial attraction over the lunar.
3. Or, lastly, animated with sufficient speed to enable it to
reach the neutral point, but not sufficient to pass it, it would
remain forever suspended in that spot like the pretended tomb of
Mahomet, between the zenith and the nadir.
Such was their situation; and Barbicane clearly explained the
consequences to his traveling companions, which greatly
interested them. But how should they know when the projectile
had reached this neutral point situated at that distance,
especially when neither themselves, nor the objects enclosed in
the projectile, would be any longer subject to the laws of weight?
Up to this time, the travelers, while admitting that this action
was constantly decreasing, had not yet become sensible to its
total absence.
But that day, about eleven o'clock in the morning, Nicholl
having accidentally let a glass slip from his hand, the glass,
instead of falling, remained suspended in the air.
"Ah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "that is rather an amusing piece
of natural philosophy."
And immediately divers other objects, firearms and bottles,
abandoned to themselves, held themselves up as by enchantment.
Diana too, placed in space by Michel, reproduced, but without
any trick, the wonderful suspension practiced by Caston and
Robert Houdin. Indeed the dog did not seem to know that she was
floating in air.
The three adventurous companions were surprised and stupefied,
despite their scientific reasonings. They felt themselves being
carried into the domain of wonders! they felt that weight was
really wanting to their bodies. If they stretched out their
arms, they did not attempt to fall. Their heads shook on
their shoulders. Their feet no longer clung to the floor of
the projectile. They were like drunken men having no stability
in themselves.
Fancy has depicted men without reflection, others without shadow.
But here reality, by the neutralizations of attractive forces,
produced men in whom nothing had any weight, and who weighed
nothing themselves.
Suddenly Michel, taking a spring, left the floor and remained
suspended in the air, like Murillo's monk of the Cusine des Anges.
The two friends joined him instantly, and all three formed a
miraculous "Ascension" in the center of the projectile.
"Is it to be believed? is it probable? is it possible?"
exclaimed Michel; "and yet it is so. Ah! if Raphael had seen us
thus, what an `Assumption' he would have thrown upon canvas!"
"The `Assumption' cannot last," replied Barbicane. "If the
projectile passes the neutral point, the lunar attraction will
draw us to the moon."
"Then our feet will be upon the roof," replied Michel.
"No," said Barbicane, "because the projectile's center of
gravity is very low; it will only turn by degrees."
"Then all our portables will be upset from top to bottom, that
is a fact."
"Calm yourself, Michel," replied Nicholl; "no upset is to be
feared; not a thing will move, for the projectile's evolution
will be imperceptible."
"Just so," continued Barbicane; "and when it has passed the
point of equal attraction, its base, being the heavier, will
draw it perpendicularly to the moon; but, in order that this
phenomenon should take place, we must have passed the neutral line."
"Pass the neutral line," cried Michel; "then let us do as the
sailors do when they cross the equator."
A slight side movement brought Michel back toward the padded
side; thence he took a bottle and glasses, placed them "in
space" before his companions, and, drinking merrily, they
saluted the line with a triple hurrah. The influence of these
attractions scarcely lasted an hour; the travelers felt
themselves insensibly drawn toward the floor, and Barbicane
fancied that the conical end of the projectile was varying a
little from its normal direction toward the moon. By an inverse
motion the base was approaching first; the lunar attraction was
prevailing over the terrestrial; the fall toward the moon was
beginning, almost imperceptibly as yet, but by degrees the
attractive force would become stronger, the fall would be more
decided, the projectile, drawn by its base, would turn its cone
to the earth, and fall with ever-increasing speed on to the
surface of the Selenite continent; their destination would then
be attained. Now nothing could prevent the success of their
enterprise, and Nicholl and Michel Ardan shared Barbicane's joy.
Then they chatted of all the phenomena which had astonished them
one after the other, particularly the neutralization of the laws
of weight. Michel Ardan, always enthusiastic, drew conclusions
which were purely fanciful.
"Ah, my worthy friends," he exclaimed, "what progress we should
make if on earth we could throw off some of that weight, some of
that chain which binds us to her; it would be the prisoner set
at liberty; no more fatigue of either arms or legs. Or, if it
is true that in order to fly on the earth's surface, to keep
oneself suspended in the air merely by the play of the muscles,
there requires a strength a hundred and fifty times greater than
that which we possess, a simple act of volition, a caprice,
would bear us into space, if attraction did not exist."
"Just so," said Nicholl, smiling; "if we could succeed in
suppressing weight as they suppress pain by anaesthesia,
that would change the face of modern society!"
"Yes," cried Michel, full of his subject, "destroy weight, and
no more burdens!"
"Well said," replied Barbicane; "but if nothing had any weight,
nothing would keep in its place, not even your hat on your head,
worthy Michel; nor your house, whose stones only adhere by
weight; nor a boat, whose stability on the waves is only caused
by weight; not even the ocean, whose waves would no longer be
equalized by terrestrial attraction; and lastly, not even the
atmosphere, whose atoms, being no longer held in their places,
would disperse in space!"
"That is tiresome," retorted Michel; "nothing like these
matter-of-fact people for bringing one back to the bare reality."
"But console yourself, Michel," continued Barbicane, "for if no
orb exists from whence all laws of weight are banished, you are
at least going to visit one where it is much less than on the earth."
"The moon?"
"Yes, the moon, on whose surface objects weigh six times less
than on the earth, a phenomenon easy to prove."
"And we shall feel it?" asked Michel.
"Evidently, as two hundred pounds will only weigh thirty pounds
on the surface of the moon."
"And our muscular strength will not diminish?"
"Not at all; instead of jumping one yard high, you will rise
eighteen feet high."
"But we shall be regular Herculeses in the moon!" exclaimed Michel.
"Yes," replied Nicholl; "for if the height of the Selenites is
in proportion to the density of their globe, they will be
scarcely a foot high."
"Lilliputians!" ejaculated Michel; "I shall play the part
of Gulliver. We are going to realize the fable of the giants.
This is the advantage of leaving one's own planet and
over-running the solar world."
"One moment, Michel," answered Barbicane; "if you wish to play
the part of Gulliver, only visit the inferior planets, such as
Mercury, Venus, or Mars, whose density is a little less than
that of the earth; but do not venture into the great planets,
Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune; for there the order will be
changed, and you will become Lilliputian."
"And in the sun?"
"In the sun, if its density is thirteen hundred and twenty-four
thousand times greater, and the attraction is twenty-seven times
greater than on the surface of our globe, keeping everything in
proportion, the inhabitants ought to be at least two hundred
feet high."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Michel; "I should be nothing more than a
pigmy, a shrimp!"
"Gulliver with the giants," said Nicholl.
"Just so," replied Barbicane.
"And it would not be quite useless to carry some pieces of
artillery to defend oneself."
"Good," replied Nicholl; "your projectiles would have no effect
on the sun; they would fall back upon the earth after some minutes."
"That is a strong remark."
"It is certain," replied Barbicane; "the attraction is so great
on this enormous orb, that an object weighing 70,000 pounds on
the surface of the sun would weigh but 1,920 pounds on the earth.
If you were to fall upon it you would weigh-- let me see-- about
5,000 pounds, a weight which you would never be able to raise again."
"The devil!" said Michel; "one would want a portable crane.
However, we will be satisfied with the moon for the present;
there at least we shall cut a great figure. We will see about
the sun by and by."
