From the Earth to the Moon | Page 6

At the further end of the saloon the president, assisted by four
secretaries, occupied a large platform. His chair, supported by a carved
gun-carriage, was modeled upon the ponderous proportions of a
32-inch mortar. It was pointed at an angle of ninety degrees, and
suspended upon truncheons, so that the president could balance himself
upon it as upon a rocking-chair, a very agreeable fact in the very hot
weather. Upon the table (a huge iron plate supported upon six
carronades) stood an inkstand of exquisite elegance, made of a
beautifully chased Spanish piece, and a sonnette, which, when required,
could give forth a report equal to that of a revolver. During violent
debates this novel kind of bell scarcely sufficed to drown the clamor of
these excitable artillerists.
In front of the table benches arranged in zigzag form, like the
circumvallations of a retrenchment, formed a succession of bastions
and curtains set apart for the use of the members of the club; and on
this especial evening one might say, "All the world was on the
ramparts." The president was sufficiently well known, however, for all
to be assured that he would not put his colleagues to discomfort without
some very strong motive.
Impey Barbicane was a man of forty years of age, calm, cold, austere;
of a singularly serious and self-contained demeanor, punctual as a
chronometer, of imperturbable temper and immovable character; by no
means chivalrous, yet adventurous withal, and always bringing
practical ideas to 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 ancient cavaliers of the mother country. In a word, he was a
Yankee to the backbone.
Barbicane had made a large fortune as a timber merchant. Being
nominated director of artillery during the war, he proved himself fertile
in invention. Bold in his conceptions, he contributed powerfully to the
progress of that arm and gave an immense impetus to experimental
researches.
He was personage of the middle height, having, by a rare exception in
the Gun Club, all his limbs complete. His strongly marked features
seemed drawn by square and rule; and if it be true that, in order to
judge a man's character one must look at his profile, Barbicane, so
examined, exhibited the most certain indications of energy, audacity,
and sang-froid.
At this moment he was sitting in his armchair, silent, absorbed, lost in
reflection, sheltered under his high-crowned hat-- a kind of black
cylinder 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
profound silence ensued, and the speaker, in a somewhat emphatic tone
of voice, commenced as follows:
"My brave, colleagues, too long already a paralyzing peace has plunged
the members of the Gun Club in deplorable inactivity. After a period of
years full of incidents we have been compelled to abandon our labors,
and to stop short on the road of progress. I do not hesitate to state,
baldly, that any war which would recall us to arms would be welcome!"
(Tremendous applause!) "But war, gentlemen, is impossible under
existing circumstances; and, however we may desire it, many years
may elapse before our cannon shall again 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 we all pine for."

The meeting felt that the president was now approaching the critical
point, and redoubled their attention accordingly.
"For some months past, my brave colleagues," continued Barbicane, "I
have been asking myself whether, while confining ourselves to our own
particular objects, we could not enter upon some grand experiment
worthy of the nineteenth century; and whether the progress of artillery
science would not enable us to carry it out to a successful issue. I have
been considering, working, calculating; and the result of my studies is
the conviction that we are safe to succeed in an enterprise which to any
other country would appear wholly impracticable. This project, the
result of long elaboration, is the object of my present communication. It
is worthy of yourselves, worthy of the antecedents of the Gun Club;
and it cannot 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
the Moon, or, at least, heard speak of it. Don't be surprised if I am
about to discourse to you regarding the Queen of