THE NEW CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES.
That day all America heard about the duel and its singular termination.
The part played by the chivalrous European, his unexpected proposition
which solved the difficulty, the simultaneous acceptation of the two
rivals, that conquest of the lunar continent to which France and the
United States were going to march in concert--everything tended to
increase Michel Ardan's popularity. It is well known how enthusiastic
the Yankees will get about an individual. In a country where grave
magistrates harness themselves to a dancer's carriage and draw it in
triumph, it may be judged how the bold Frenchman was treated. If they
did not take out his horses it was probably because he had none, but all
other marks of enthusiasm were showered upon him. There was no citizen
who did not join him heart and mind:--_Ex pluribus unam_, according to
the motto of the United States.
From that day Michel Ardan had not a minute's rest. Deputations from all
parts of the Union worried him incessantly. He was forced to receive
them whether he would or no. The hands he shook could not be counted; he
was soon completely worn out, his voice became hoarse in consequence of
his innumerable speeches, and only escaped from his lips in
unintelligible sounds, and he nearly caught a gastro-enterite after the
toasts he proposed to the Union. This success would have intoxicated
another man from the first, but he managed to stay in a _spirituelle_
and charming demi-inebriety.
Amongst the deputations of every sort that assailed him, that of the
"Lunatics" did not forget what they owed to the future conqueror of the
moon. One day some of these poor creatures, numerous enough in America,
went to him and asked to return with him to their native country. Some
of them pretended to speak "Selenite," and wished to teach it to Michel
Ardan, who willingly lent himself to their innocent mania, and promised
to take their messages to their friends in the moon.
"Singular folly!" said he to Barbicane, after having dismissed them;
"and a folly that often takes possession of men of great intelligence.
One of our most illustrious _savants_, Arago, told me that many very
wise and reserved people in their conceptions became much excited and
gave way to incredible singularities every time the moon occupied them.
Do you believe in the influence of the moon upon maladies?"
"Very little," answered the president of the Gun Club.
"I do not either, and yet history has preserved some facts that, to say
the least, are astonishing. Thus in 1693, during an epidemic, people
perished in the greatest numbers on the 21st of January, during an
eclipse. The celebrated Bacon fainted during the moon eclipses, and only
came to himself after its entire emersion. King Charles VI. relapsed six
times into madness during the year 1399, either at the new or full moon.
Physicians have ranked epilepsy amongst the maladies that follow the
phases of the moon. Nervous maladies have often appeared to be
influenced by it. Mead speaks of a child who had convulsions when the
moon was in opposition. Gall remarked that insane persons underwent an
accession of their disorder twice in every month, at the epochs of the
new and full moon. Lastly, a thousand observations of this sort made
upon malignant fevers and somnambulism tend to prove that the Queen of
Night has a mysterious influence upon terrestrial maladies."
"But how? why?" asked Barbicane.
"Why?" answered Ardan. "Why, the only thing I can tell you is what Arago
repeated nineteen centuries after Plutarch. Perhaps it is because it is
not true."
In the height of his triumph Michel Ardan could not escape any of the
annoyances incidental to a celebrated man. Managers of entertainments
wished to exhibit him. Barnum offered him a million dollars to show him
as a curious animal in the different towns of the United States.
Still, though he refused to satisfy public curiosity in that way, his
portraits went all over the world, and occupied the place of honour in
albums; proofs were made of all sizes from life size to medallions.
Every one could possess the hero in all positions--head, bust, standing,
full-face, profile, three-quarters, back. Fifteen hundred thousand
copies were taken, and it would have been a fine occasion to get money
by relics, but he did not profit by it. If he had sold his hairs for a
dollar apiece there would have remained enough to make his fortune!
To tell the truth, this popularity did not displease him. On the
contrary, he put himself at the disposition of the public, and
corresponded with the entire universe. They repeated his witticisms,
especially those he did not perpetrate.
Not only had he all the men for him, but the women too. What an infinite
number of good marriages he might have made if he had taken a fancy to
"settle!" Old maids especially dreamt before his portraits day and
night.
It is certain that he would have found female companions by hundreds,
even if he had imposed the condition of following him up into the air.
Women are intrepid when they are not afraid of everything. But he had no
intention of transplanting a race of Franco-Americans upon the lunar
continent, so he refused.
"I do not mean," said he, "to play the part of Adam with a daughter of
Eve up there. I might meet with serpents!"
As soon as he could withdraw from the joys of triumph, too often
repeated, he went with his friends to pay a visit to the Columbiad. He
owed it that. Besides, he was getting very learned in ballistics since
he had lived with Barbicane, J.T. Maston, and _tutti quanti_. His
greatest pleasure consisted in repeating to these brave artillerymen
that they were only amiable and learned murderers. He was always joking
about it. The day he visited the Columbiad he greatly admired it, and
went down to the bore of the gigantic mortar that was soon to hurl him
towards the Queen of Night.
"At least," said he, "that cannon will not hurt anybody, which is
already very astonishing on the part of a cannon. But as to your engines
that destroy, burn, smash, and kill, don't talk to me about them!"
It is necessary to report here a proposition made by J.T. Maston. When
the secretary of the Gun Club heard Barbicane and Nicholl accept Michel
Ardan's proposition he resolved to join them, and make a party of four.
One day he asked to go. Barbicane, grieved at having to refuse, made him
understand that the projectile could not carry so many passengers. J.T.
Maston, in despair, went to Michel Ardan, who advised him to be
resigned, adding one or two arguments _ad hominem_.
"You see, old fellow," he said to him, "you must not be offended, but
really, between ourselves, you are too incomplete to present yourself in
the moon."
"Incomplete!" cried the valiant cripple.
"Yes, my brave friend. Suppose we should meet with inhabitants up there.
Do you want to give them a sorry idea of what goes on here, teach them
what war is, show them that we employ the best part of our time in
devouring each other and breaking arms and limbs, and that upon a globe
that could feed a hundred thousand millions of inhabitants, and where
there are hardly twelve hundred millions? Why, my worthy friend, you
would have us shown to the door!"
"But if you arrive smashed to pieces," replied J.T. Maston, "you will be
as incomplete as I."
"Certainly," answered Michel Ardan, "but we shall not arrive in pieces."
In fact, a preparatory experiment, tried on the 18th of October, had
been attended with the best results, and given rise to the most
legitimate hopes. Barbicane, wishing to know the effect of the shock at
the moment of the projectile's departure, sent for a 32-inch mortar from
Pensacola Arsenal. It was installed upon the quay of Hillisboro Harbour,
in order that the bomb might fall into the sea, and the shock of its
fall be deadened. He only wished to experiment upon the shock of its
departure, not that of its arrival.
A hollow projectile was prepared with the greatest care for this curious
experiment. A thick wadding put upon a network of springs made of the
best steel lined it inside. It was quite a wadded nest.
"What a pity one can't go in it!" said J.T. Maston, regretting that his
size did not allow him to make the venture.
Into this charming bomb, which was closed by means of a lid, screwed
down, they put first a large cat, then a squirrel belonging to the
perpetual secretary of the Gun Club, which J.T. Maston was very fond of.
But they wished to know how this little animal, not likely to be giddy,
would support this experimental journey.
The mortar was loaded with 160 lbs. of powder and the bomb. It was then
fired.
The projectile immediately rose with rapidity, described a majestic
parabola, attained a height of about a thousand feet, and then with a
graceful curve fell into the waves.
Without losing an instant, a vessel was sent to the spot where it fell;
skilful divers sank under water and fastened cable-chains to the handles
of the bomb, which was rapidly hoisted on board. Five minutes had not
elapsed between the time the animals were shut up and the unscrewing of
their prison lid.
Ardan, Barbicane, Maston, and Nicholl were upon the vessel, and they
assisted at the operation with a sentiment of interest easy to
understand. The bomb was hardly opened before the cat sprang out, rather
bruised but quite lively, and not looking as if it had just returned
from an aërial expedition. But nothing, was seen of the squirrel. The
truth was then discovered. The cat had eaten its travelling companion.
J.T. Maston was very grieved at the loss of his poor squirrel, and
proposed to inscribe it in the martyrology of science.
However that may be, after this experiment all hesitation and fear were
at an end; besides, Barbicane's plans were destined further to perfect
the projectile, and destroy almost entirely the effect of the shock.
There was nothing more to do but to start.
Two days later Michel Ardan received a message from the President of
the Union, an honour which he much appreciated.
After the example of his chivalrous countryman, La Fayette, the
government had bestowed upon him the title of "Citizen of the United
States of America."