Journey to the Centre of the Earth, Page 4

  My uncle certainly had an answer to everything. I saw that I could not shake him as far as the words on the old parchment were concerned. I therefore stopped pressing him on that subject, and since the most important thing was to convince him, I went on to the scientific objections, which in my opinion were much more serious.

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I have to admit that Saknussemm’s sentence is quite clear and leaves no room for doubt. I’ll even grant that the document seems perfectly genuine. The old savant went to the bottom of Sneffels, he saw the shadow of Scartaris touch the edge of the crater before the kalends of July, he even heard tell in the legendary stories of his day that that crater led to the centre of the earth; but as for his having gone down there and come back alive, no, a hundred times no!’

  ‘And why not?’ asked my uncle, in an extremely sarcastic voice.

  ‘Because all the theories of science prove that a feat of that sort is impossible.’

  ‘Oh, so all the theories prove that, do they? What wicked theories they are! And what a nuisance they are going to be!’

  I saw that he was making fun of me, but I went on all the same.

  ‘Yes. It is generally recognized that the temperature rises about one degree for every seventy feet below the surface; so that if you admit that ratio to be constant, the radius of the earth being over four thousand miles, the temperature at the centre must be over two million degrees. Consequently all the substances inside the earth must be in a state of incandescent gas, for gold, platinum, and even the hardest rocks cannot resist such a temperature. I therefore have good grounds for asking how it could be possible to penetrate so far.’

  ‘So it’s the temperature that worries you, Axel?’

  ‘Of course it is. If we were to go only twenty-five miles down, we should have reached the limit of the earth’s crust for the temperature there is over 1,300 degrees.’

  ‘And you are afraid of melting away?’

  ‘I leave you to answer that question,’ I retorted rather crossly.

  ‘This is my answer,’ said Professor Lidenbrock, taking on his most superior air. ‘Neither you nor anybody else knows for certain what is going on inside the earth, seeing that we have penetrated only about one twelve-thousandth part of its radius; what is more, science is eminently perfectible, and each new theory is soon disproved by a newer one. Wasn’t it generally believed until Fourier that the temperature of interplanetary space steadily decreased, and don’t we know now that the lowest temperature in the ethereal regions is never below forty or fifty degrees below zero? Why shouldn’t the same be true of the internal temperature? Why, at a certain depth, shouldn’t it reach an impassable limit, instead of rising to the melting-point of the most resistant minerals?’

  As my uncle was now putting the question on a hypothetical plane, I had nothing to say in reply.

  ‘Well, let me tell you that some real scientists, including Poisson, have proved that if a temperature of two million degrees existed inside the globe, the fiery gases given off by the melted matter would acquire such an elasticity that the earth’s crust would be unable to resist it, and that it would explode like the plates of a bursting boiler.’

  ‘That is Poisson’s opinion, Uncle, nothing more.’ ‘Granted. But it is also the opinion of other distinguished geologists that the interior of the globe is composed of neither gas nor water nor of the heaviest minerals known to us, for in that case the earth would weigh half as much as it does.’

  ‘Oh, you can prove anything with figures.’ ‘But can you do the same with facts? Isn’t it a fact that the number of volcanoes has greatly diminished since the beginning of the world, and may we not conclude that if there is heat in the centre it is decreasing?’

  ‘Uncle, if you are going to enter the region of speculation, I have nothing more to say.’

  ‘But I have something to say, namely that the greatest authorities share my opinion. Do you remember a visit the famous English chemist Humphry Davy paid me in 1825?’

  ‘No, I don’t. For the very good reason that I wasn’t born until nineteen years later.’

  ‘Well, Humphry Davy came to see me on his way through Hamburg. Among the questions, we spent a long time discussing the hypothesis of the liquid nature of the terrestrial nucleus. We were agreed that this liquidity could not exist, for a reason which science has never been able to refute.’

  ‘What reason is that?’ I asked with a certain astonishment.

  ‘Because this liquid mass would be subject, like the sea, to the attraction of the moon, and consequently, twice a day, there would be internal tides which, pushing up the earth’s crust, would cause periodical earthquakes.’

  ‘Yet it is obvious,’ I said, ‘that the surface of the globe has been subjected to the action of fire, and it is reasonable to suppose that the outer crust cooled down first, while the heat took refuge in the centre.’

  ‘You are mistaken there,’ replied my uncle. ‘The earth was heated by the combustion of its surface and nothing else. Its surface was composed of a great number of metals, such as potassium and sodium, which have the peculiar property of igniting at the mere contact with air and water. These metals caught fire when the atmospheric vapours fell in the form of rain on the soil; and little by little, when the waters penetrated into the fissures of the earth’s crust, they started fresh fires together with explosions and eruptions. Hence the large number of volcanoes during the early period of the earth.’

  ‘I must say that’s an ingenious theory,’ I exclaimed, rather in spite of myself.

  ‘And one which Humphry demonstrated to me, here in this very room, with a simple experiment. He made a small ball largely composed of the metals I mentioned just now, and which was the perfect image of our globe; when he sprayed its surface with a fine rain, it blistered, became oxidized, and formed a miniature mountain; a crater formed at the mountain’s summit, and an eruption took place making the whole ball so hot that you couldn’t hold it in your hand.’

  I began to be shaken by the Professor’s arguments, which he put forward, incidentally, with all his usual ardour and enthusiasm.

  ‘As you can see, Axel,’ he added, ‘the state of the terrestrial nucleus has given rise to a variety of theories among geologists; nothing is less certain than the existence of that internal heat you believe in; my own view is that it doesn’t exist, and couldn’t possibly exist; but in any case we shall see for ourselves, and like Arne Saknussemm we shall know what to think about this important question.’

  ‘All right!’ I replied, carried away by his enthusiasm. ‘We shall see – that is, if it is possible to see anything there.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t it be possible? May we not count on electrical phenomena to give us light, and even on the atmosphere, whose pressure may render it luminous as we approach the centre?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that is just possible, I suppose.’

  ‘It is certain,’ my uncle retorted triumphantly; ‘but silence, you understand, silence about all this, so that nobody has the idea of trying to reach the centre of the earth before us.’

  7

  Getting Ready

  So ended that memorable conversation, leaving me with a sort of fever. I came out of my uncle’s study in a daze, and there was not enough air in the streets of Hamburg to set me right again. I therefore made for the banks of the Elbe, where the ferry-steamer links the town with the Harburg railway.

  Was I convinced of the truth of what I had just heard? Hadn’t I been swayed by Professor Lidenbrock? Was I to take seriously his declared intention to penetrate to the centre of the world? Had I been listening to the mad speculations of a lunatic or to the scientific conclusions of a genius? Where, in all this, did truth stop and error begin?

  I drifted about among a thousand contradictory hypotheses, without succeeding in grasping a single one.

  Yet I remembered that I had felt convinced, even if my enthusiasm was beginning to cool down; and I would have liked to set off at once, w
ithout giving myself time to think. Yes, at that moment I would have had the courage to pack my bag.

  But an hour later I must admit that this excitement of mine abated, my nerves relaxed, and from the depths of the earth I rose once more to the surface.

  ‘It’s ridiculous!’ I exclaimed. ‘There’s no sense in it! It isn’t the sort of proposal to put to a sensible young man. The whole thing must be a mistake. I’ve slept badly and had a nightmare.’

  In the meantime I had followed the bank of the Elbe and gone round the town. After passing the port again I had reached the Altona road. A presentiment was guiding me, which was fully justified, for soon I caught sight of my little Gräuben walking briskly towards Hamburg.

  ‘Gräuben!’ I called out to her when I was some distance away.

  The girl stopped, rather startled, I imagine, at hearing her name called on the high road. A dozen strides and I was at her side.

  ‘Axel!’ she exclaimed in surprise. ‘Oh, you have come to meet me. That was nice of you.’

  However, when she looked at me Gräuben noticed my worried, anxious expression.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, holding out her hand.

  ‘What’s the matter, Gräuben?’ I echoed.

  A couple of minutes and three sentences were sufficient to put my pretty Virlandaise in possession of the facts. For a few moments she remained silent. I don’t know whether her heart was beating like mine, but her hand did not tremble in mine. We walked about a hundred yards without speaking.

  ‘Axel!’ she said at last.

  ‘Yes, my dear Gräuben?’

  ‘It will be a wonderful journey.’

  I gave a start at these words.

  ‘Yes, Axel, a journey worthy of a scientist’s nephew. It is a good thing for a man to distinguish himself by some great enterprise.’

  ‘What, Gräuben, you mean you aren’t going to advise me against an expedition like that?’

  ‘No, my dear Axel, and I would gladly come with your uncle and you, if it weren’t that a girl would only be in the way.’

  ‘You mean that?’

  ‘Yes, I mean it.’

  Oh, how hard it is to understand the hearts of girls and women. When they are not the most timid of creatures, they are the bravest. Reason has no part in their lives. This girl was encouraging me to take part in that expedition and would not have been afraid to join it herself! And she was pushing me into it, even though she was in love with me! I was disconcerted, and to tell the truth, ashamed of myself.

  ‘Gräuben,’ I said, ‘we shall see whether you talk like this tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow, my dear Axel, I shall speak exactly as I have done today.’

  Hand in hand, but saying nothing more, Gräuben and I continued on our way. I was tired out by the day’s emotions.

  ‘After all,’ I thought to myself, ‘the kalends of July are still a long way off, and a great many things may happen in the meantime to cure my uncle of his mania for underground exploration.’

  Darkness had fallen by the time we reached the house in the Königstrasse. I expected to find the place quiet, my uncle in bed as usual, and Martha giving the dining-room a final flick with her feather duster.

  But I had reckoned without the Professor’s impatience. I found him shouting and gesticulating in the midst of a crowd of men who were unloading goods on the path. Our old servant was at her wits’ end.

  ‘Come along, Axel,’ exclaimed my uncle as soon as he saw me, ‘hurry up! Your box isn’t packed, my papers aren’t in order, I can’t find the key to my bag, and my gaiters haven’t arrived.’

  I was thunderstruck. My voice failed me. I could only just murmur the words:

  ‘Are we going, then?’

  ‘Yes, you young idiot, and you go for a walk instead of staying here!’

  ‘We’re going?’ I repeated in an even feebler voice.

  ‘Yes, first thing the day after tomorrow.’

  I could not bear to hear any more, and I fled to my little room.

  There was no longer any doubt about it. My uncle had spent the afternoon buying some of the things he needed for his journey, and the path was littered with enough rope ladders, knotted cords, torches, flasks, grappling-irons, alpenstocks, iron-shod sticks, and pickaxes to burden at least a dozen men.

  I spent a dreadful night. The next morning I was called early. I had made up my mind not to open the door. But how could I resist the sweet voice which uttered these words:

  ‘My dear Axel?’

  I came out of my room, thinking that my haggard features, my pale complexion, and my eyes reddened by lack of sleep would arouse Gräuben’s sympathy and change her ideas.

  ‘Ah, my dear Axel,’ she said, ‘I see that you are feeling better and that a night’s rest has done you good.’

  ‘Done me good!’ I exclaimed. I rushed to my mirror. Well, the fact was that I did look better than I had expected. I could scarcely believe my eyes.

  ‘Axel,’ said Gräuben, ‘I have had a long talk with my guardian. He is a bold thinker and a man of great courage, and you must remember that his blood flows in your veins. He has told me about his plans and hopes, and explained why and how he expects to attain his object. He will succeed, I have no doubt of that. Oh, Axel, it is such a wonderful thing to devote oneself to science like that. What glory there is in store for Herr Lidenbrock – and for his companion! When you come back, Axel, you will be a man, his equal, free to speak and act as you wish, and free to …’

  She stopped short and blushed. Her words revived my spirits. All the same, I still refused to believe in our departure. I took Gräuben along to the Professor’s study.

  ‘Uncle,’ I said, ‘are we really going?’

  ‘Why? Have you any doubts?’

  ‘No,’ I said, not wanting to vex him. ‘Only I don’t see what need there is to hurry.’

  ‘Think of time! Time flying with irreparable speed!’

  ‘But it’s only the twenty-sixth of May, and from now until the end of June …’

  ‘You ignoramus! Do you think it’s as easy as all that to get to Iceland? If you hadn’t gone off like a fool, I’d have taken you with me to the Copenhagen office of Liffender & Co. There you’d have seen that there’s only one service from Copenhagen to Reykjavik, on the twenty-second of each month.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well, if we waited until the twenty-second of June, we should arrive too late to see the shadow of Scartaris touch the crater of Sneffels. So we have to get to Copenhagen as fast as we can to find some means of transport. Go and pack your things!’

  There was no reply to this. I went back to my room, accompanied by Gräuben. It was she who took it upon herself to pack everything I needed in a little portmanteau. She was no more excited than if I had been going on a trip to Lübeck or Heligoland. Her little hands moved about hurriedly. She chatted calmly. She gave me eminently sensible reasons for our expedition. She delighted me, and yet I felt extremely angry with her. Now and then I nearly lost my temper, but she took no notice and went on with her work as methodically as ever.

  Finally the last strap round the portmanteau was buckled, and I went downstairs.

  All day scientific instruments, firearms, and electrical apparatus had been arriving. Poor Martha did not know where she was.

  ‘Is the Master out of his mind?’ she asked me.

  I nodded.

  ‘And he’s taking you with him?’

  I nodded again.

  ‘Where?’ she asked.

  I pointed towards the centre of the earth.

  ‘Into the cellar?’ exclaimed the old servant.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘farther down than that.’

  Night fell. I had ceased to be conscious of the passage of time.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning,’ said my uncle. ‘We leave at six sharp.’

  At ten o’clock I slumped on to my bed. During the night my fears took hold of me again. I dreamed about abysses all the time. I became d
elirious. I felt the Professor’s strong hand gripping me, dragging me along, pulling me into chasms and quicksands. I kept hurtling into bottomless abysses with the increasing velocity of bodies dropping through space. My life had become an interminable fall.

  I awoke at five, worn out with fatigue and emotion. I went down to the dining-room. My uncle was at table, eating a hearty breakfast. I looked at him with horror and disgust. But Gräuben was there, so I said nothing. I could not eat anything.

  At half past five there was a rumble of wheels outside. A big carriage had arrived to take us to the station at Altona. Before long it was filled with my uncle’s parcels.

  ‘Where’s your box?’ he asked me.

  ‘It’s ready,’ I replied in a faltering voice.

  ‘Be quick and bring it down, then, or you’ll make us miss the train.’

  It was now obviously impossible to fight against my fate. I went back up to my room, and, letting my portmanteau slide down the stairs, I hurried after it.

  At that moment my uncle was solemnly handing over the ‘reins’ of the house to Gräuben. My pretty little Virlandaise was as calm as ever. She kissed her guardian, but she could not restrain a tear as she touched my cheek with her sweet lips.

  ‘Gräuben!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Go, Axel dear, go,’ she said. ‘You are leaving your betrothed, but when you come back you will find your wife.’

  I pressed her in my arms and then took my seat in the carriage. From the door, Martha and Gräuben waved a final farewell. Then the two horses, at a whistle from the driver, set off at a gallop along the road to Altona.

  8

  The First Stage