From its beginnings, this early work of science fiction, by one of the founding authors of the genre, revels in its sheer wealth of scientific detail – and the science-minded reader is likely to note many interesting instances of consonance and dissonance between Jules Verne’s imagined lunar voyage in From the Earth to the Moon (1865), and the real-life accomplishment of a lunar landing by the Apollo 11 astronauts 104 years after Verne published his novel.
Jules Verne remains one of the authors associated most strongly with science fiction as a literary genre. As contemporary SF author Gregory Benford points out in an informative foreword, Verne continues to appeal to authors and readers of “hard SF” – meaning science fiction that hews as closely as possible to known scientific fact. Where Verne’s contemporary H.G. Wells indulged in storytelling elements that seemed more overtly fantastical – invaders from Mars, invisibility serums, a hollow moon inhabited by Selenites – Verne drew upon his own considerable scientific erudition, and tried not to step too far beyond what the science of his time deemed possible.
Perhaps it is for that reason that so many of the seemingly fanciful SF speculations of Verne’s work have come to pass: going around the world in less than three months, say, or travelling 20,000 leagues (60,000 nautical miles) under the sea in a submarine called the Nautilus – or flying from the earth to the moon.
As a Marylander, I was surprised and pleased to find that De la terre à la lune begins in, of all places, Union Square in Baltimore. Today, Union Square is a lovely part of the Sowebo (South West Baltimore) neighborhood, close to Hollins Market and H.L. Mencken’s old house. In Verne’s fictive Baltimore, Union Square is home to the Baltimore Gun Club, an organization of artillery manufacturers and artillery officers, many of whom are missing eyes, arms, legs, or other body parts because of the dangerous nature of their trade.
With the end of the American Civil War, the members of the Baltimore Gun Club are generally distraught, because the demand for their work is likely to decline. Yet low spirits among the group’s membership are quickly lifted when the club’s president, Impey Barbicane, proposes that the group build an exceptionally large cannon that would work as a “space gun,” launching a projectile to the moon.
Verne’s enthusiasm for scientific detail comes out in Barbicane’s setting-forth, for the benefit of Baltimore Gun Club members (and Verne’s readers) of the details behind a successful moon launch:
“When a projectile is launched into space, what happens? It’s acted on by three independent forces: air resistance, the pull of the earth’s gravity, and the propulsive force that’s been applied to it. Let’s examine these three forces. Air resistance will be unimportant. The earth’s atmosphere is only forty miles thick. At a speed of 36,000 feet per second, the shell will go through it in five seconds, and that time is so short that we can regard air resistance as insignificant. Next, let’s consider the pull of the earth’s gravity – in other words, the shell’s weight. We know that its weight will diminish in inverse ratio to the square of its distance from the earth. Here’s what physics tells us: when a body is dropped near the surface of the earth, it falls fifteen feet in the first second, but if it were as far away from the earth as the moon is – 257,242 miles – it would fall only a twentieth of an inch in the first second; in short, it would remain almost motionless. So we must progressively conquer the force of gravity. How will we do it? By the propulsive force we’ll use.” (p. 55)
The gun club’s plan captures the attention of the entire world, many of whose nations pledge financial support. Yet there are complications, including an enduring and bitter rivalry between Barbicane, as a builder of artillery weapons, and one Captain Nicholl, a Philadelphia-based armour manufacturer. Nicholl establishes a series of wagers against the viability of the BGC project, and the reader wonders how much the rivalry between Nicholl and Barbicane will accelerate, and with what consequences.
It is interesting to see what aspects of lunar exploration Verne anticipated with some degree of accuracy, a century before human beings reached the moon. One accurate prediction Verne made was that the United States, with its enterprising people and its traditions of mechanical innovation, would be the first nation to reach the moon. Another thing Verne got right was that any American space program would involve warm-weather states like Texas (now home to Johnson Space Center) and Florida (today, the site of Cape Canaveral). One could even say that Verne looked ahead beyond NASA, to an era when private companies would take the lead in space travel. From the Baltimore Gun Club to Space-X, Blue Origin, and Virgin Galactic? The mind boggles.
Back in the world of From the Earth to the Moon, Barbicane resolves the Texas-Florida rivalry over the prospective launch site by naming a Tampa-area site at Stone Hill, Florida, as the site where the cannon will be built to launch a projectile toward the Moon. As he makes this declaration, he reveals author Verne’s dedication to establishing a set of details thorough enough to give his scientific romances a sense of verisimilitude:
“This place is 1800 feet above sea level, latitude 27º 7’ north, longitude 5º 7’ west. Its dryness and rockiness seem to indicate all the conditions favorable to our project, so it’s here that we’ll build our powder magazines, our workshops, our furnaces, and the houses for our workers, and it will be from here, from this very spot,” he said emphatically, stamping his foot on Stone Hill, “that our projectile will begin its journey through space to the moon!” (p. 100)
It all sounds quite convincing – even if, in fact, the highest point of land in Florida is only 345 feet above sea level.
Eventually, the BGC’s plans to send an unmanned projectile to the moon when a man named Michel Ardan, a French adventure-seeker with a decided Indiana Jones flair, makes clear that he wants to travel to the moon on what will now be a manned spacecraft. At a public meeting on the topic, Ardan is subjected to a hostile line of questioning regarding his proposed trip to the moon:
“What about food and water?”
“I’ve calculated that I can take along enough for a year, and my journey will last only four days!”
“And what about air?”
“I’ll make it by chemical processes.”
“And your fall on the moon, assuming you ever get there?”
“It will only be a sixth as fast as a fall on the earth, since the pull of gravity is only a sixth as strong on the moon.”
“But it will still be strong enough to break you like a glass!”
“What’s to stop me from slowing down my fall by igniting properly placed rockets at the right time?”
“All right, suppose we say all those difficulties are resolved, all those obstacles are overcome; suppose we put all the chances in your favor and say you arrive safe and sound on the moon. How will you get back?”
“I won’t.” (p. 153)
Well! That would have shut down any Gemini or Apollo space-project news conference, back in the day.
It should be no surprise that the hostile questioner of Ardan is Barbicane’s old nemesis, Captain Nicholl, or that the hostility between the two men quickly reaches a crisis point.
Yet a launch is eventually made, with the time to blast-off being counted second by second, though the BGC personnel count up to 40 rather than having a countdown to zero. Still, once an electric spark has been transmitted down to the bottom of the cannon,
Instantly there was a terrifying, fantastic, superhuman detonation which could not be compared to thunder or any previously known sound, not even the eruption of a volcano. An immense spout of flame shot from the bowels of the earth as from a crater. The ground heaved, and only a few people caught a brief glimpse of the projectile victoriously cleaving the air amid clouds of glowing vapor… (pp. 203-04)
The results of the launch include an earthquake, along with hurricane-force winds that destroy 100 buildings across Tampa, as well as ships being sunk 300 miles out in the Atlantic – in contrast with the first Cape Canaveral rocket launch in 1950, where nothing untoward happened at all. As Benford points out in his commentary, Verne’s mode of launching a spacecraft to the moon could pose some serious problems in celestial mechanics. But I would rather enjoy Verne’s storytelling verve than quibble with his deployment of applied science.
From the Earth to the Moon ends on a note of uncertainty, with the BGC spacecraft and three human occupants orbiting the moon, with no particular way of either landing on the Moon or returning to Earth. No doubt it was for this reason that Verne published a sequel, Around the Moon, in 1869.
This book provides a fun, steampunk-style look at the possibilities of lunar travel – even if, for me, it did not reach the heights of Verne’s masterpieces, Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1864) and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1870). Still, no one can deny its cultural influence. Verne’s two moon novels inspired filmmaker Georges Méliès to make his film A Trip to the Moon (1902), with its iconic special-effects image of the travelers’ space capsule crashing right into the eye of the Man in the Moon! From the Earth to the Moon was adapted for cinema in 1958 – just 11 years before the Apollo moon landing – with a cast that included Joseph Cotten and George Sanders. And in 1998, when Ron Howard and Tom Hanks developed an epic multi-part HBO documentary about the Space Race era, the title that they gave the documentary was, perhaps inevitably, From the Earth to the Moon.