De la terre à la lune: trajet direct en 97 heures 20 minutes — Résumé 🇺🇸 English
During the American Civil War, the city of Baltimore becomes home to the newly established Gun Club, a society founded by mechanics and merchants who have revolutionized the science of ballistics through the creation of colossal cannons and exceptionally destructive projectiles. Bound together by their shared expertise and wartime achievements, these veterans live for the thrill of invention and combat, taking immense pride in the vast firepower they command. However, the sudden return of peace leaves the club in a state of profound despair and idleness. Deprived of battlegrounds and unable to test their lethal innovations, the members grumble over their forced inactivity, nursing lost ambitions and even contemplating ridiculous conflicts just to revive their passion for artillery.
The mood shifts dramatically when the club's respected president, Impey Barbicane, summons his colleagues to a major meeting at their headquarters on Union Square. Addressing an eager and packed crowd of passionate artillerists, Barbicane acknowledges the frustration caused by the current peaceful era but steers the conversation toward a completely new and astonishing ambition. Recapping past imaginative and literary attempts to reach the moon through fiction or scientific hoaxes, he proposes a practical American solution that will establish a direct connection with Earth's satellite. As he finally reveals his bold intention to build an engine capable of firing a projectile straight to the moon, the assembled members greet the audacious plan with absolute astonishment and wild enthusiasm.
The Cambridge Observatory Responds
Following the overwhelming public reception of Impey Barbicane's bold proposal, the Gun-Club moves swiftly to consult professional astronomers regarding the feasibility of the lunar expedition. President Barbicane and his colleagues submit a precise list of technical questions to the renowned Observatory of Cambridge in Massachusetts. Within two days, the observatory's director returns a comprehensive, mathematically rigorous response that validates the theoretical possibility of the enterprise. The reply confirms that launching a projectile to the moon is entirely achievable provided the device is animated by an initial velocity of twelve thousand yards per second. Addressing crucial variables such as the moon's elliptical orbit, the calculations establish that the projectile must be fired from a location between zero and twenty-eight degrees of latitude north or south, where the moon can pass directly through the zenith. The response dictates that the operation must occur on the first of December of the following year so that the projectile meets the moon precisely four days later on December fourth at midnight, coinciding exactly with the lunar perigee.
Energized by the scientific validation from Cambridge, the American public plunges into an intensive study of lunar astronomy, familiarising themselves with the physical, geographical, and historical attributes of Earth's satellite. Newspapers and scientific journals revive centuries of astronomical discoveries concerning the moon's volcanic surface, its lack of atmosphere and water, and the intricate system of craters and mysterious parallel grooves mapped by previous scholars. This sudden nationwide fascination transforms the moon into the ultimate cultural obsession across the United States. While the detailed parameters provided by the observatory equip the Gun-Club with the exact mechanics required for success, the entire nation shares in the rising anticipation of bridging the vast gulf between Earth and the celestial sphere.
The Execution Committee Convenes
Following the astronomical briefing from Cambridge, President Impey Barbicane appoints an elite Execution Committee within the Gun Club to resolve the practical mechanical challenges of the lunar expedition. Consisting of Barbicane, General Morgan, Major Elphiston, and the fiercely enthusiastic secretary J T Maston, the committee gathers at Republican Street to tackle the foundational questions of the project. Dispensing with preliminary formalities, the members indulge in sandwiches and tea while debating whether to design the projectile or the cannon first. J T Maston passionately takes the floor to deliver a poetic tribute to the mathematical and moral significance of the projectile, exalting it as humanity greatest masterpiece and an ambassador of Earth destined for the cosmos.
Steering the discussion back to concrete engineering, the committee determines that the projectile must measure nine hundred inches in diameter and be cast from lightweight aluminium to remain manageable yet sufficiently massive. After establishing these specifications, the group transitions to the formidable engineering problem of the cannon itself, recognizing that an unprecedented charge of powder and an extraordinary barrel length will be required to achieve the necessary escape velocity. Barbicane proposes casting a colossal nine-hundred-foot cannon directly into the ground and reinforcing it with thick iron hoops and solid masonry, ensuring the engine possesses the immense structural resistance demanded by the enterprise.
The Captain and the States
Amidst nationwide fascination with the lunar project, a solitary voice of fierce opposition emerges from Captain Nicholl of Philadelphia. As a brilliant manufacturer of armor plating who spent the war years locked in an intense technological rivalry with Impey Barbicane and his piercing projectiles, Nicholl views the Gun Club's ambitious venture as a personal affront. Utilizing the press, he launches a relentless scientific and rhetorical assault against Barbicane, arguing through algebraic proofs that achieving the necessary escape velocity is impossible and that the colossal cannon would inevitably melt or destroy itself upon firing. When Barbicane refuses his numerous direct challenges to a duel of armor and ordnance, Nicholl seals his defiance by publicly wagering fifteen thousand dollars across a series of escalating bets. Barbicane accepts the wager with a single, laconically decisive letter, leaving his sole detractor isolated against millions of enthusiastic supporters.
With the technical hurdles of the canon, projectile, and powder successfully resolved by the Execution Committee, the Gun Club turns its attention to selecting the optimal geographical site for the launch. Following the astronomical requirements set by the Cambridge Observatory, the firing site must lie between the equator and the twenty-eighth parallel so that the moon passes directly through the zenith. During a general meeting, J T Maston passionately argues for declaring war on neighboring Mexico to secure suitable territory, before President Barbicane intervenes by displaying a detailed map of the United States. Barbicane points out that the nation already encompasses the necessary latitudes within its own borders, leaving the southern regions of Texas and Florida as the prime candidates for the colossal installation. This realization immediately sparks an intense and fiercely competitive rivalry between the two states, each desperately eager to host the monumental enterprise.
The Florida Site and Universal Subscriptions
Following a fierce debate between Texas and Florida, President Impey Barbicane resolves the dispute by selecting Tampa-Town in Florida, as it possesses a single city within the required twenty-eighth parallel compared to eleven contentious cities in Texas. The disgruntled Texans are hurriedly escorted out of Baltimore on a special train, parting with a final sarcastic warning that the narrow peninsula will shatter at the first blast. With the geographical and technical challenges settled, Barbicane transforms the lunar enterprise into a global endeavour by launching a worldwide financial subscription. Despite predictable skepticism and outright jealousy from institutions like the Royal Observatory of Greenwich, the public appeal succeeds beyond all expectations, drawing massive financial contributions from Russia, France, Prussia, Turkey, and various other nations to amass a staggering capital of over five million dollars.
Armed with these abundant funds, Barbicane concludes a formal contract with the Goldspring ironworks to deliver the necessary manufacturing equipment to southern Florida. Accompanied by J T Maston, Major Elphiston, and the director of the foundry, Barbicane sails aboard the federal aviso Tampico to inspect the Floridian coast. Upon arriving in Tampa-Town, they are greeted by enthusiastic crowds before setting out on horseback across the subtropical landscape, escorted by locals due to the presence of Seminole tribes. Traversing fertile forests and rivers inhabited by caimans, the party finally reaches a dry, elevated, and rocky plain situated three hundred toises above sea level. After performing precise astronomical observations at the meridian, Barbicane officially designates the site, known as Stone's Hill, as the chosen location for the colossal Columbiad.
President Impey Barbicane establishes a thriving, disciplined settlement around Stone's Hill in Florida and initiates the excavation of the colossal Columbiad on November four. Working relentlessly through tropical heat and illuminated by electric lights at night, miners and engineers employ an innovative simultaneous masonry technique to sink a shaft sixty feet wide and nine hundred feet deep. Despite encountering a troublesome subterranean water vein in February that causes a partial collapse and claims several lives, the engineering team successfully overcomes the obstacles with powerful pumps and compressed air. By June ten, the massive well is fully lined with stone and completed twenty days ahead of schedule, showcasing extraordinary coordination, human resilience, and meticulous oversight.
Concurrently, twelve hundred reverberatory furnaces are constructed in a vast circle around the central shaft to melt sixty thousand tons of cast iron, which was transported to Florida by a fleet of sixty-eight vessels from New York. On July nine, President Barbicane conducts the casting behind closed doors to ensure absolute safety during the hazardous operation. Twelve hundred streams of molten metal pour simultaneously into the deep abyss, producing immense tremors, dense smoke plumes, and volcanic spectacles that terrify local wildlife. After several weeks of intense heat and mandatory waiting periods, the internal clay and sand mold is painstakingly extracted. The interior is then meticulously bored and polished until the giant cannon achieves absolute verticality and a perfect cylindrical finish by September twenty-two, prompting Captain Nicholl to pay his lost wager.
Meanwhile, the surrounding region undergoes a dramatic transformation as Tampa-Town burgeons into a bustling metropolis nicknamed Moon-City. The local population swells to one hundred and fifty thousand souls, attracting massive waves of curious international visitors, commercial enterprises, and a newly extended railway line connecting the region to the southern states of Че Union. With the technical completion of the Columbiad, President Barbicane finally opens the enclosure to the public, allowing awestruck crowds to descend into the immense metallic abyss using steam-powered winches. The overwhelming influx of tourists and merchants completely revitalises the once-isolated Floridian landscape, transforming it into a vibrant hub of global anticipation as the world awaits the historic lunar launch.
The final celebration of the Gun Club takes place as ten companions gather deep inside the gigantic Columbiad to share a historic meal before the launch. Outside the massive metal tube, the immense crowd assembled around Stone's Hill unites in roaring cheers and explosive enthusiasm that echo down the enormous acoustical cylinder like thunder. J T Maston loses all self-control during the festivities, cheering and indulging to such an extreme degree that it remains impossible to determine whether he shouted or gesticulated more. In his overwhelming excitement, he declares that he would not trade his place for an entire empire, even if the loaded cannon were primed and fired instantly to blast him in pieces across the planetary spaces.