Journey to the Center of the Earth E-book
Author: Jules Verne
Genre: Children Stories, Literature
1864
A JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH
by Jules Verne
Electronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R)
CHAPTER 1: My Uncle Makes a Discovery
-
LOOKING back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day,
I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures. They
were truly so wonderful that even now I am bewildered when I think
of them.
My uncle was a German, having married my mother's sister, an
Englishwoman. Being very much attached to his fatherless nephew, he
invited me to study under him in his home in the fatherland. This home
was in a large town, and my uncle a professor of philosophy,
chemistry, geology, mineralogy, and many other ologies.
One day, after passing some hours in the laboratory- my uncle
being absent at the time- I suddenly felt the necessity of
renovating the tissues- i.e., I was hungry, and was about to rouse
up our old French cook, when my uncle, Professor Von Hardwigg,
suddenly opened the street door, and came rushing upstairs.
Now Professor Hardwigg, my worthy uncle, is by no means a bad sort
of man; he is, however, choleric and original. To bear with him
means to obey; and scarcely had his heavy feet resounded within our
joint domicile than he shouted for me to attend upon him.
"Harry- Harry- Harry-"
I hastened to obey, but before I could reach his room, jumping three
steps at a time, he was stamping his right foot upon the landing.
"Harry!" he cried, in a frantic tone, "are you coming up?"
Now to tell the truth, at that moment I was far more interested in
the question as to what was to constitute our dinner than in any
problem of science; to me soup was more interesting than soda, an
omelette more tempting than arithmetic, and an artichoke of ten
times more value than any amount of asbestos.
But my uncle was not a man to be kept waiting; so adjourning
therefore all minor questions, I presented myself before him.
He was a very learned man. Now most persons in this category
supply themselves with information, as peddlers do with goods, for the
benefit of others, and lay up stores in order to diffuse them abroad
for the benefit of society in general. Not so my excellent uncle,
Professor Hardwigg; he studied, he consumed the midnight oil, he pored
over heavy tomes, and digested huge quartos and folios in order to
keep the knowledge acquired to himself.
There was a reason, and it may be regarded as a good one, why my
uncle objected to display his learning more than was absolutely
necessary: he stammered; and when intent upon explaining the phenomena
of the heavens, was apt to find himself at fault, and allude in such a
vague way to sun, moon, and stars that few were able to comprehend his
meaning. To tell the honest truth, when the right word would not come,
it was generally replaced by a very powerful adjective.
In connection with the sciences there are many almost
unpronounceable names- names very much resembling those of Welsh
villages; and my uncle being very fond of using them, his habit of
stammering was not thereby improved. In fact, there were periods in
his discourse when he would finally give up and swallow his
discomfiture- in a glass of water.
As I said, my uncle, Professor Hardwigg, was a very learned man; and
I now add a most kind relative. I was bound to him by the double
ties of affection and interest. I took deep interest in all his
doings, and hoped some day to be almost as learned myself. It was a
rare thing for me to be absent from his lectures. Like him, I
preferred mineralogy to all the other sciences. My anxiety was to gain
real knowledge of the earth. Geology and mineralogy were to us the
sole objects of life, and in connection with these studies many a fair
specimen of stone, chalk, or metal did we break with our hammers.
Steel rods, loadstones, glass pipes, and bottles of various acids
were oftener before us than our meals. My uncle Hardwigg was once
known to classify six hundred different geological specimens by
their weight, hardness, fusibility, sound, taste, and smell.
He corresponded with all the great, learned, and scientific men of
the age. I was, therefore, in constant communication with, at all
events the letters of, Sir Humphry Davy, Captain Franklin, and other
great men.
But before I state the subject on which my uncle wished to confer
with me, I must say a word about his personal appearance. Alas! my
readers will see a very different portrait of him at a future time,
after he has gone through the fearful adventures yet to be related.
My uncle was fifty years old; tall, thin, and wiry. Large spectacles
hid, to a certain extent, his vast, round, and goggle eyes, while
his nose was irreverently compared to a thin file. So much indeed
did it resemble that useful article, that a compass was said in his
presence to have made considerable N (Nasal) deviation.
The truth being told, however, the only article really attracted
to my uncle's nose was tobacco.
Another peculiarity of his was, that he always stepped a yard at a
time, clenched his fists as if he were going to hit you, and was, when
in one of his peculiar humors, very far from a pleasant companion.
It is further necessary to observe that he lived in a very nice
house, in that very nice street, the Konigstrasse at Hamburg. Though
lying in the center of a town, it was perfectly rural in its aspect-
half wood, half bricks, with old-fashioned gables- one of the few
old houses spared by the great fire of 1842.
When I say a nice house, I mean a handsome house- old, tottering,
and not exactly comfortable to English notions: a house a little off
the perpendicular and inclined to fall into the neighboring canal;
exactly the house for a wandering artist to depict; all the more
that you could scarcely see it for ivy and a magnificent old tree
which grew over the door.
My uncle was rich; his house was his own property, while he had a
considerable private income. To my notion the best part of his
possessions was his god-daughter, Gretchen. And the old cook, the
young lady, the Professor and I were the sole inhabitants.
I loved mineralogy, I loved geology. To me there was nothing like
pebbles- and if my uncle had been in a little less of a fury, we
should have been the happiest of families. To prove the excellent
Hardwigg's impatience, I solemnly declare that when the flowers in the
drawing-room pots began to grow, he rose every morning at four o'clock
to make them grow quicker by pulling the leaves!
Having described my uncle, I will now give an account of our
interview.
He received me in his study; a perfect museum, containing every
natural curiosity that can well be imagined- minerals, however,
predominating. Every one was familiar to me, having been catalogued by
my own hand. My uncle, apparently oblivious of the fact that he had
summoned me to his presence, was absorbed in a book. He was
particularly fond of early editions, tall copies, and unique works.
"Wonderful!" he cried, tapping his forehead. "Wonderful- wonderful!"
It was one of those yellow-leaved volumes now rarely found on
stalls, and to me it appeared to possess but little value. My uncle,
however, was in raptures.
He admired its binding, the clearness of its characters, the ease
with which it opened in his hand, and repeated aloud, half a dozen
times, that it was very, very old.
To my fancy he was making a great fuss about nothing, but it was not
my province to say so. On the contrary, I professed considerable
interest in the subject, and asked him what it was about.
"It is the Heims-Kringla of Snorre Tarleson,"he said, "the
celebrated Icelandic author of the twelfth century- it is a true and
correct account of the Norwegian princes who reigned in Iceland."
My next question related to the language in which it was written.
I hoped at all events it was translated into German. My uncle was
indignant at the very thought, and declared he wouldn't give a penny
for a translation. His delight was to have found the original work
in the Icelandic tongue, which he declared to be one of the most
magnificent and yet simple idioms in the world- while at the same time
its grammatical combinations were the most varied known to students.
"About as easy as German? was my insidious remark.
My uncle shrugged his shoulders.
"The letters at all events," I said, "are rather difficult of
comprehension."
"It is a Runic manuscript, the language of the original population
of Iceland, invented by Odin himself," cried my uncle, angry at my
ignorance.
I was about to venture upon some misplaced joke on the subject, when
a small scrap of parchment fell out of the leaves. Like a hungry man
snatching at a morsel of bread the Professor seized it. It was about
five inches by three and was scrawled over in the most extraordinary
fashion.
The lines shown here are an exact facsimile of what was written on
the venerable piece of parchment-and have wonderful importance, as
they induced my uncle to undertake the most wonderful series of
adventures which ever fell to the lot of human beings.
My uncle looked keenly at the document for some moments and then
declared that it was Runic. The letters were similar to those in the
book, but then what did they mean? This was exactly what I wanted to
know.
Now as I had a strong conviction that the Runic alphabet and dialect
were simply an invention to mystify poor human nature, I was delighted
to find that my uncle knew as much about the matter as I did- which
was nothing. At all events the tremulous motion of his fingers made me
think so.
"And yet," he muttered to himself, "it is old Icelandic, I am sure
of it."
And my uncle ought to have known, for he was a perfect polyglot
dictionary in himself. He did not pretend, like a certain learned
pundit, to speak the two thousand languages and four thousand idioms
made use of in different parts of the globe, but he did know all the
more important ones.
It is a matter of great doubt to me now, to what violent measures my
uncle's impetuosity might have led him, had not the clock struck
two, and our old French cook called out to let us know that dinner was
on the table.
"Bother the dinner!" cried my uncle.
But as I was hungry, I sallied forth to the dining room, where I
took up my usual quarters. Out of politeness I waited three minutes,
but no sign of my uncle, the Professor. I was surprised. He was not
usually so blind to the pleasure of a good dinner. It was the acme
of German luxury- parsley soup, a ham omelette with sorrel
trimmings, an oyster of veal stewed with prunes, delicious fruit,
and sparkling Moselle. For the sake of poring over this musty old
piece of parchment, my uncle forbore to share our meal. To satisfy
my conscience, I ate for both.
The old cook and housekeeper was nearly out of her mind. After
taking so much trouble, to find her master not appear at dinner was to
her a sad disappointment- which, as she occasionally watched the havoc
I was making on the viands, became also alarm. If my uncle were to
come to table after all?
Suddenly, just as I had consumed the last apple and drunk the last
glass of wine, a terrible voice was heard at no great distance. It was
my uncle roaring for me to come to him. I made very nearly one leap of
it- so loud, so fierce was his tone.
CHAPTER 2: The Mysterious Parchment
-
"I DECLARE," cried my uncle, striking the table fiercely with his
fist, "I declare to you it is Runic- and contains some wonderful
secret, which I must get at, at any price."
I was about to reply when he stopped me.
"Sit down," he said, quite fiercely, "and write to my dictation."
I obeyed.
"I will substitute," he said, "a letter of our alphabet for that
of the Runic: we will then see what that will produce. Now, begin
and make no mistakes."
The dictation commenced with the following incomprehensible result:
-
mm.rnlls esreuel seecJde
sgtssmf unteief niedrke
kt,samn atrateS Saodrrn
emtnaeI nuaect rrilSa
Atvaar .nscrc ieaabs
ccdrmi eeutul frantu
dt,iac oseibo KediiY
-
Scarcely giving me time to finish, my uncle snatched the document
from my hands and examined it with the most rapt and deep attention.
"I should like to know what it means," he said, after a long period.
I certainly could not tell him, nor did he expect me to- his
conversation being uniformly answered by himself.
"I declare it puts me in mind of a cryptograph," he cried,
"unless, indeed, the letters have been written without any real
meaning; and yet why take so much trouble? Who knows but I may be on
the verge of some great discovery?"
My candid opinion was that it was all rubbish! But this opinion I
kept carefully to myself, as my uncle's choler was not pleasant to
bear. All this time he was comparing the book with the parchment.
"The manuscript volume and the smaller document are written in
different hands," he said, "the cryptograph is of much later date than
the book; there is an undoubted proof of the correctness of my
surmise. [An irrefragable proof I took it to be.] The first letter
is a double M, which was only added to the Icelandic language in the
twelfth century- this makes the parchment two hundred years
posterior to the volume."
The circumstances appeared very probable and very logical, but it
was all surmise to me.
"To me it appears probable that this sentence was written by some
owner of the book. Now who was the owner, is the next important
question. Perhaps by great good luck it may be written somewhere in
the volume."
With these words Professor Hardwigg took off his spectacles, and,
taking a powerful magnifying glass, examined the book carefully.
On the fly leaf was what appeared to be a blot of ink, but on
examination proved to be a line of writing almost effaced by time.
This was what he sought; and, after some considerable time, he made
out these letters:
"Arne Saknussemm!" he cried in a joyous and triumphant tone, "that
is not only an Icelandic name, but of a learned professor of the
sixteenth century, a celebrated alchemist."
I bowed as a sign of respect.
"These alchemists," he continued, "Avicenna, Bacon, Lully,
Paracelsus, were the true, the only learned men of the day. They
made surprising discoveries. May not this Saknussemm, nephew mine,
have hidden on this bit of parchment some astounding invention? I
believe the cryptograph to have a profound meaning- which I must
make out."
My uncle walked about the room in a state of excitement almost
impossible to describe.
"It may be so, sir," I timidly observed, "but why conceal it from
posterity, if it be a useful, a worthy discovery?"
"Why- how should I know? Did not Galileo make a secret of his
discoveries in connection with Saturn? But we shall see. Until I
discover the meaning of this sentence I will neither eat nor sleep."
"My dear uncle-" I began.
"Nor you neither," he added.
It was lucky I had taken double allowance that day.
"In the first place," he continued, "there must be a clue to the
meaning. If we could find that, the rest would be easy enough."
I began seriously to reflect. The prospect of going without food and
sleep was not a promising one, so I determined to do my best to
solve the mystery. My uncle, meanwhile, went on with his soliloquy.
"The way to discover it is easy enough. In this document there are
one hundred and thirty-two letters, giving seventy-nine consonants
to fifty-three vowels. This is about the proportion found in most
southern languages, the idioms of the north being much more rich in
consonants. We may confidently predict, therefore, that we have to
deal with a southern dialect."
Nothing could be more logical.
"Now said Professor Hardwigg, "to trace the particular language."
"As Shakespeare says, 'that is the question,"' was my rather
satirical reply.
"This man Saknussemm he continued, "was a very learned man: now as
he did not write in the language of his birthplace, he probably,
like most learned men of the sixteenth century, wrote in Latin. If,
however, I prove wrong in this guess, we must try Spanish, French,
Italian, Greek, and even Hebrew. My own opinion, though, is
decidedly in favor of Latin."
This proposition startled me. Latin was my favorite study, and it
seemed sacrilege to believe this gibberish to belong to the country of
Virgil.
"Barbarous Latin, in all probability," continued my uncle, "but
still Latin."
"Very probably," I replied, not to contradict him.
"Let us see into the matter," continued my uncle; "here you see we
have a series of one hundred and thirty-two letters, apparently thrown
pell-mell upon paper, without method or organization. There are
words which are composed wholly of consonants, such as mm.rnlls,
others which are nearly all vowels, the fifth, for instance, which
is unteief, and one of the last oseibo. This appears an
extraordinary combination. Probably we shall find that the phrase is
arranged according to some mathematical plan. No doubt a certain
sentence has been written out and then jumbled up- some plan to
which some figure is the clue. Now, Harry, to show your English wit-
what is that figure?"
I could give him no hint. My thoughts were indeed far away. While he
was speaking I had caught sight of the portrait of my cousin Gretchen,
and was wondering when she would return.
We were affianced, and loved one another very sincerely.But my
uncle, who never thought even of such sublunary matters, knew
nothing of this. Without noticing my abstraction, the Professor
began reading the puzzling cryptograph all sorts of ways, according to
some theory of his own. Presently, rousing my wandering attention,
he dictated one precious attempt to me.
I mildly handed it over to him. It read as follows:
-
mmessunkaSenrA.icefdoK.segnittamurtn
ecertserrette,rotaivsadua,ednecsedsadne
lacartniiilrJsiratracSarbmutabiledmek
meretarcsilucoYsleffenSnI
-
I could scarcely keep from laughing, while my uncle, on the
contrary, got in a towering passion, struck the table with his fist,
darted out of the room, out of the house, and then taking to his heels
was presently lost to sight.
CHAPTER 3: An Astounding Discovery
-
WHAT is the matter?" cried the cook, entering the room; "when will
master have his dinner?"
"Never."
"And, his supper?"
"I don't know. He says he will eat no more, neither shall I. My
uncle has determined to fast and make me fast until he makes out
this abominable inscription," I replied.
"You will be starved to death," she said.
I was very much of the same opinion, but not liking to say so,
sent her away, and began some of my usual work of classification.
But try as I might, nothing could keep me from thinking alternately of
the stupid manuscript and of the pretty Gretchen.
Several times I thought of going out, but my uncle would have been
angry at my absence. At the end of an hour, my allotted task was done.
How to pass the time? I began by lighting my pipe. Like all other
students, I delighted in tobacco; and, seating myself in the great
armchair, I began to think.
Where was my uncle? I could easily imagine him tearing along some
solitary road, gesticulating, talking to himself, cutting the air with
his cane, and still thinking of the absurd bit of hieroglyphics. Would
he hit upon some clue? Would he come home in better humor? While these
thoughts were passing through my brain, I mechanically took up the
execrable puzzle and tried every imaginable way of grouping the
letters. I put them together by twos, by threes, fours, and fives-
in vain. Nothing intelligible came out, except that the fourteenth,
fifteenth, and sixteenth made ice in English; the eighty-fourth,
eighty-fifth, and eighty-sixth, the word sir; then at last I seemed to
find the Latin words rota, mutabile, ira, nec, atra.
"Ha! there seems to be some truth in my uncle's notion, thought I.
Then again I seemed to find the word luco, which means sacred
wood. Then in the third line I appeared to make out labiled, a perfect
Hebrew word, and at the last the syllables mere, are, mer, which
were French.
It was enough to drive one mad. Four different idioms in this absurd
phrase. What connection could there be between ice, sir, anger, cruel,
sacred wood, changing, mother, are, and sea? The first and the last
might, in a sentence connected with Iceland, mean sea of ice. But what
of the rest of this monstrous cryptograph?
I was, in fact, fighting against an insurmountable difficulty; my
brain was almost on fire; my eyes were strained with staring at the
parchment; the whole absurd collection of letters appeared to dance
before my vision in a number of black little groups. My mind was
possessed with temporary hallucination- I was stifling. I wanted
air. Mechanically I fanned myself with the document, of which now I
saw the back and then the front.
Imagine my surprise when glancing at the back of the wearisome
puzzle, the ink having gone through, I clearly made out Latin words,
and among others craterem and terrestre.
I had discovered the secret!
It came upon me like a flash of lightning. I had got the clue. All
you had to do to understand the document was to read it backwards. All
the ingenious ideas of the Professor were realized; he had dictated it
rightly to me; by a mere accident I had discovered what he so much
desired.
My delight, my emotion may be imagined, my eyes were dazzled and I
trembled so that at first I could make nothing of it. One look,
however, would tell me all I wished to know.
"Let me read," I said to myself, after drawing a long breath.
I spread it before me on the table, I passed my finger over each
letter, I spelled it through; in my excitement I read it out.
What horror and stupefaction took possession of my soul. I was
like a man who had received a knock-down blow. Was it possible that
I really read the terrible secret, and it had really been
accomplished! A man had dared to do- what?
No living being should ever know.
"Never!" cried I, jumping up. "Never shall my uncle be made aware of
the dread secret. He would be quite capable of undertaking the
terrible journey. Nothing would check him, nothing stop him. Worse, he
would compel me to accompany him, and we should be lost forever. But
no; such folly and madness cannot be allowed."
I was almost beside myself with rage and fury.
"My worthy uncle is already nearly mad," I cried aloud. "This
would finish him. By some accident he may make the discovery; in which
case, we are both lost. Perish the fearful secret- let the flames
forever bury it in oblivion."
I snatched up book and parchment, and was about to cast them into
the fire, when the door opened and my uncle entered.
I had scarcely time to put down the wretched documents before my
uncle was by my side. He was profoundly absorbed. His thoughts were
evidently bent on the terrible parchment. Some new combination had
probably struck him while taking his walk.
He seated himself in his armchair, and with a pen began to make an
algebraical calculation. I watched him with anxious eyes. My flesh
crawled as it became probable that he would discover the secret.
His combinations I knew now were useless, I having discovered the
one only clue. For three mortal hours he continued without speaking
a word, without raising his head, scratching, rewriting, calculating
over and over again. I knew that in time he must hit upon the right
phrase. The letters of every alphabet have only a certain number of
combinations. But then years might elapse before he would arrive at
the correct solution.
Still time went on; night came, the sounds in the streets ceased-
and still my uncle went on, not even answering our worthy cook when
she called us to supper.
I did not dare to leave him, so waved her away, and at last fell
asleep on the sofa.
When I awoke my uncle was still at work. His red eyes, his pallid
countenance, his matted hair, his feverish hands, his hectically
flushed cheeks, showed how terrible had been his struggle with the
impossible, and what fearful fatigue he had undergone during that long
sleepless night. It made me quite ill to look at him. Though he was
rather severe with me, I loved him, and my heart ached at his
sufferings. He was so overcome by one idea that he could not even
get in a passion! All his energies were focused on one point. And I
knew that by speaking one little word all this suffering would
cease. I could not speak it.
My heart was, nevertheless, inclining towards him. Why, then, did
I remain silent? In the interest of my uncle himself.
"Nothing shall make me speak," I muttered. "He will want to follow
in the footsteps of the other! I know him well. His imagination is a
perfect volcano, and to make discoveries in the interests of geology
he would sacrifice his life. I will therefore be silent and strictly
keep the secret I have discovered. To reveal it would be suicidal.
He would not only rush, himself, to destruction, but drag me with
him."
I crossed my arms, looked another way and smoked- resolved never
to speak.
When our cook wanted to go out to market, or on any other errand,
she found the front door locked and the key taken away. Was this
done purposely or not? Surely Professor Hardwigg did not intend the
old woman and myself to become martyrs to his obstinate will. Were
we to be starved to death? A frightful recollection came to my mind.
Once we had fed on bits and scraps for a week while he sorted some
curiosities. It gave me the cramp even to think of it!
I wanted my breakfast, and I saw no way of getting it. Still my
resolution held good. I would starve rather than yield. But the cook
began to take me seriously to task. What was to be done? She could not
go out; and I dared not.
My uncle continued counting and writing; his imagination seemed to
have translated him to the skies. He neither thought of eating nor
drinking. In this way twelve o'clock came round. I was hungry, and
there was nothing in the house. The cook had eaten the last bit of
bread. This could not go on. It did, however, until two, when my
sensations were terrible. After all, I began to think the document
very absurd. Perhaps it might only be a gigantic hoax. Besides, some
means would surely be found to keep my uncle back from attempting
any such absurd expedition. On the other hand, if he did attempt
anything so quixotic, I should not be compelled to accompany him.
Another line of reasoning partially decided me. Very likely he would
make the discovery himself when I should have suffered starvation
for nothing. Under the influence of hunger this reasoning appeared
admirable. I determined to tell all.
The question now arose as to how it was to be done. I was still
dwelling on the thought, when he rose and put on his hat.
What! go out and lock us in? Never!
"Uncle," I began.
He did not appear even to hear me.
"Professor Hardwigg," I cried.
"What," he retorted, "did you speak?"
"How about the key?"
"What key- the key of the door?
"No- of these horrible hieroglyphics?
He looked at me from under his spectacles, and started at the odd
expression of my face. Rushing forward, he clutched me by the arm
and keenly examined my countenance. His very look was an
interrogation.
I simply nodded.
With an incredulous shrug of the shoulders, he turned upon his heel.
Undoubtedly he thought I had gone mad.
"I have made a very important discovery."
His eyes flashed with excitement. His hand was lifted in a
menacing attitude. For a moment neither of us spoke. It is hard to say
which was most excited.
"You don't mean to say that you have any idea of the meaning of
the scrawl?"
"I do," was my desperate reply. "Look at the sentence as dictated by
you."
"Well," but it means nothing," was the angry answer.
"Nothing if you read from left to right, but mark, if from right
to left-"
"Backwards!" cried my uncle, in wild amazement. "Oh most cunning
Saknussemm; and I to be such a blockhead!"
He snatched up the document, gazed at it with haggard eye, and
read it out as I had done.
It read as follows:
-
In Sneffels Yoculis craterem kem delibat
umbra Scartaris Julii intra calendas descende,
audas viator, et terrestre centrum attinges.
Kod feci. Arne Saknussemm
-
Which dog Latin being translated, reads as follows:
-
Descend into the crater of Yocul of Sneffels, which the shade of
Scartaris caresses, before the kalends of July, audacious traveler,
and you will reach the center of the earth. I did it.
ARNE SAKNUSSEMM
-
My uncle leaped three feet from the ground with joy. He looked
radiant and handsome. He rushed about the room wild with delight and
satisfaction. He knocked over tables and chairs. He threw his books
about until at last, utterly exhausted, he fell into his armchair.
"What's o'clock?" he asked.
"About three."
"My dinner does not seem to have done me much good," he observed.
"Let me have something to eat. We can then start at once. Get my
portmanteau ready."
"What for?"
"And your own," he continued. "We start at once."
My horror may be conceived. I resolved however to show no fear.
Scientific reasons were the only ones likely to influence my uncle.
Now, there were many against this terrible journey. The very idea of
going down to the center of the earth was simply absurd. I
determined therefore to argue the point after dinner.
My uncle's rage was now directed against the cook for having no
dinner ready. My explanation however satisfied him, and having
gotten the key, she soon contrived to get sufficient to satisfy our
voracious appetites.
During the repast my uncle was rather gay than otherwise. He made
some of those peculiar jokes which belong exclusively to the
learned. As soon, however, as dessert was over, he called me to his
study. We each took a chair on opposite sides of the table.
"Henry," he said, in a soft and winning voice; "I have always
believed you ingenious, and you have rendered me a service never to be
forgotten. Without you, this great, this wondrous discovery would
never have been made. It is my duty, therefore, to insist on your
sharing the glory."
"He is in a good humor," thought I; "I'll soon let him know my
opinion of glory."
"In the first place," he continued, "you must keep the whole
affair a profound secret. There is no more envious race of men than
scientific discoverers. Many would start on the same journey. At all
events, we will be the first in the field."
"I doubt your having many competitors," was my reply.
"A man of real scientific acquirements would be delighted at the
chance. We should find a perfect stream of pilgrims on the traces of
Arne Saknussemm, if this document were once made public."
"But, my dear sir, is not this paper very likely to be a hoax?" I
urged.
"The book in which we find it is sufficient proof of its
authenticity," he replied.
"I thoroughly allow that the celebrated Professor wrote the lines,
but only, I believe, as a kind of mystification," was my answer.
Scarcely were the words out of my mouth, when I was sorry I had
uttered them. My uncle looked at me with a dark and gloomy scowl,
and I began to be alarmed for the results of our conversation. His
mood soon changed, however, and a smile took the place of a frown.
"We shall see," he remarked, with decisive emphasis.
"But see, what is all this about Yocul, and Sneffels, and this
Scartaris? I have never heard anything about them."
"The very point to which I am coming. I lately received from my
friend Augustus Peterman, of Leipzig, a map. Take down the third atlas
from the second shelf, series Z, plate 4."
I rose, went to the shelf, and presently returned with the volume
indicated.
"This," said my uncle, "is one of the best maps of Iceland. I
believe it will settle all your doubts, difficulties and objections."
With a grim hope to the contrary, I stooped over the map.
CHAPTER 4: We Start on the Journey
-
YOU see, the whole island is composed of volcanoes," said the
Professor, "and remark carefully that they all bear the name of Yocul.
The word is Icelandic, and means a glacier. In most of the lofty
mountains of that region the volcanic eruptions come forth from
icebound caverns. Hence the name applied to every volcano on this
extraordinary island."
"But what does this word Sneffels mean?"
To this question I expected no rational answer. I was mistaken.
"Follow my finger to the western coast of Iceland, there you see
Reykjavik, its capital. Follow the direction of one of its innumerable
fjords or arms of the sea, and what do you see below the sixty-fifth
degree of latitude?"
"A peninsula- very like a thighbone in shape.
"And in the center of it-?"
"A mountain."
"Well," that's Sneffels."
I had nothing to say.
"That is Sneffels- a mountain about five thousand feet in height,
one of the most remarkable in the whole island, and certainly doomed
to be the most celebrated in the world, for through its crater we
shall reach the center of the earth."
"Impossible!" cried I, startled and shocked at the thought.
"Why impossible?" said Professor Hardwigg in his severest tones.
"Because its crater is choked with lava, by burning rocks- by
infinite dangers."
"But if it be extinct?"
"That would make a difference."
"Of course it would. There are about three hundred volcanoes on
the whole surface of the globe- but the greater number are extinct. Of
these Sneffels is one. No eruption has occurred since 1219- in fact it
has ceased to be a volcano at all."
After this what more could I say? Yes,- I thought of another
objection.
"But what is all this about Scartaris and the kalends of July- ?"
My uncle reflected deeply. Presently he gave forth the result of his
reflections in a sententious tone. "What appears obscure to you, to me
is light. This very phrase shows how particular Saknussemm is in his
directions. The Sneffels mountain has many craters. He is careful
therefore to point the exact one which is the highway into the
Interior of the Earth. He lets us know, for this purpose, that about
the end of the month of June, the shadow of Mount Scartaris falls upon
the one crater. There can be no doubt about the matter."
My uncle had an answer for everything.
"I accept all your explanations"' I said "and Saknussemm is right.
He found out the entrance to the bowels of the earth, he has indicated
correctly, but that he or anyone else ever followed up the discovery
is madness to suppose."
"Why so, young man?"
"All scientific teaching, theoretical and practical, shows it to
be impossible."
"I care nothing for theories," retorted my uncle.
"But is it not well-known that heat increases one degree for every
seventy feet you descend into the earth? Which gives a fine idea of
the central heat. All the matters which compose the globe are in a
state of incandescence; even gold, platinum, and the hardest rocks are
in a state of fusion. What would become of us?"
"Don't be alarmed at the heat, my boy."
"How so?"
"Neither you nor anybody else know anything about the real state
of the earth's interior. All modern experiments tend to explode the
older theories. Were any such heat to exist, the upper crust of the
earth would be shattered to atoms, and the world would be at an end."
A long, learned and not uninteresting discussion followed, which
ended in this wise:
"I do not believe in the dangers and difficulties which you,
Henry, seem to multiply; and the only way to learn, is like Arne
Saknussemm, to go and see."
"Well," cried I, overcome at last, "let us go and see. Though how we
can do that in the dark is another mystery."
"Fear nothing. We shall overcome these, and many other difficulties.
Besides, as we approach the center, I expect to find it luminous-"
"Nothing is impossible."
"And now that we have come to a thorough understanding, not a word
to any living soul. Our success depends on secrecy and dispatch."
Thus ended our memorable conference, which roused a perfect fever in
me. Leaving my uncle, I went forth like one possessed. Reaching the
banks of the Elbe, I began to think. Was all I had heard really and
truly possible? Was my uncle in his sober senses, and could the
interior of the earth be reached? Was I the victim of a madman, or was
he a discoverer of rare courage and grandeur of conception?
To a certain extent I was anxious to be off. I was afraid my
enthusiasm would cool. I determined to pack up at once. At the end
of an hour, however, on my way home, I found that my feelings had very
much changed.
"I'm all abroad," I cried; "'tis a nightmare- I must have dreamed
it."
At this moment I came face to face with Gretchen, whom I warmly
embraced.
"So you have come to meet me," she said; "how good of you. But
what is the matter?"
Well, it was no use mincing the matter, I told her all. She listened
with awe, and for some minutes she could not speak.
"Well?" I at last said, rather anxiously.
"What a magnificent journey. If I were only a man! A journey
worthy of the nephew of Professor Hardwigg. I should look upon it as
an honor to accompany him."
"My dear Gretchen, I thought you would be the first to cry out
against this mad enterprise."
"No; on the contrary, I glory in it. It is magnificent, splendid- an
idea worthy of my father. Henry Lawson, I envy you."
This was, as it were, conclusive. The final blow of all.
When we entered the house we found my uncle surrounded by workmen
and porters, who were packing up. He was pulling and hauling at a
bell.
"Where have you been wasting your time? Your portmanteau is not
packed- my papers are not in order- the precious tailor has not
brought my clothes, nor my gaiters- the key of my carpet bag is gone!"
I looked at him stupefied. And still he tugged away at the bell.
"We are really off, then?" I said.
"Yes- of course, and yet you go out for a stroll, unfortunate boy!"
"And when do we go?
"The day after tomorrow, at daybreak."
I heard no more; but darted off to my little bedchamber and locked
myself in. There was no doubt about it now. My uncle had been hard
at work all the afternoon. The garden was full of ropes, rope ladders,
torches, gourds, iron clamps, crowbars, alpenstocks, and pickaxes-
enough to load ten men.
I passed a terrible night. I was called early the next day to
learn that the resolution of my uncle was unchanged and irrevocable. I
also found my cousin and affianced wife as warm on the subject as
was her father.
Next day, at five o'clock in the morning, the post chaise was at the
door. Gretchen and the old cook received the keys of the house; and,
scarcely pausing to wish anyone good-by, we started on our adventurous
journey into the center of the earth.
CHAPTER 5: First Lessons in Climbing
-
AT Altona, a suburb of Hamburg, is the Chief Station of the Kiel
railway, which was to take us to the shores of the Belt. In twenty
minutes from the moment of our departure we were in Holstein, and
our carriage entered the station. Our heavy luggage was taken out,
weighed, labeled, and placed in a huge van. We then took our
tickets, and exactly at seven o'clock were seated opposite each
other in a firstclass railway carriage.
My uncle said nothing. He was too busy examining his papers, among
which of course was the famous parchment, and some letters of
introduction from the Danish consul which were to pave the way to an
introduction to the Governor of Iceland. My only amusement was looking
out of the window. But as we passed through a flat though fertile
country, this occupation was slightly monotonous. In three hours we
reached Kiel, and our baggage was at once transferred to the steamer.
We had now a day before us, a delay of about ten hours. Which fact
put my uncle in a towering passion. We had nothing to do but to walk
about the pretty town and bay. At length, however, we went on board,
and at half past ten were steaming down the Great Belt. It was a
dark night, with a strong breeze and a rough sea, nothing being
visible but the occasional fires on shore, with here and there a
lighthouse. At seven in the morning we left Korsor, a little town on
the western side of Seeland.
Here we took another railway, which in three hours brought us to the
capital, Copenhagen, where, scarcely taking time for refreshment, my
uncle hurried out to present one of his letters of introduction. It
was to the director of the Museum of Antiquities, who, having been
informed that we were tourists bound for Iceland, did all he could
to assist us. One wretched hope sustained me now. Perhaps no vessel
was bound for such distant parts.
Alas! a little Danish schooner, the Valkyrie, was to sail on the
second of June for Reykjavik. The captain, M. Bjarne, was on board,
and was rather surprised at the energy and cordiality with which his
future passenger shook him by the hand. To him a voyage to Iceland was
merely a matter of course. My uncle, on the other hand, considered the
event of sublime importance. The honest sailor took advantage of the
Professor's enthusiasm to double the fare.
"On Tuesday morning at seven o'clock be on board," said M. Bjarne,
handing us our receipts.
"Excellent! Capital! Glorious!" remarked my uncle as we sat down
to a late breakfast; "refresh yourself, my boy, and we will take a run
through the town."
Our meal concluded, we went to the Kongens-Nye-Torw; to the king's
magnificent palace; to the beautiful bridge over the canal near the
Museum; to the immense cenotaph of Thorwaldsen with its hideous
naval groups; to the castle of Rosenberg; and to all the other lions
of the place- none of which my uncle even saw, so absorbed was he in
his anticipated triumphs.
But one thing struck his fancy, and that was a certain singular
steeple situated on the Island of Amak, which is the southeast quarter
of the city of Copenhagen. My uncle at once ordered me to turn my
steps that way, and accordingly we went on board the steam ferry
boat which does duty on the canal, and very soon reached the noted
dockyard quay.
In the first instance we crossed some narrow streets, where we met
numerous groups of galley slaves, with particolored trousers, grey and
yellow, working under the orders and the sticks of severe taskmasters,
and finally reached the Vor-Frelser's-Kirk.
This church exhibited nothing remarkable in itself; in fact, the
worthy Professor had only been attracted to it by one circumstance,
which was, that its rather elevated steeple started from a circular
platform, after which there was an exterior staircase, which wound
round to the very summit.
"Let us ascend," said my uncle.
"But I never could climb church towers," I cried, "I am subject to
dizziness in my head."
"The very reason why you should go up. I want to cure you of a bad
habit."
"But, my good sir-"
"I tell you to come. What is the use of wasting so much valuable
time?"
It was impossible to dispute the dictatorial commands of my uncle. I
yielded with a groan. On payment of a fee, a verger gave us the key.
He, for one, was not partial to the ascent. My uncle at once showed me
the way, running up the steps like a schoolboy. I followed as well
as I could, though no sooner was I outside the tower, than my head
began to swim. There was nothing of the eagle about me. The earth
was enough for me, and no ambitious desire to soar ever entered my
mind. Still things did not go badly until I had ascended 150 steps,
and was near the platform, when I began to feel the rush of cold
air. I could scarcely stand, when clutching the railings, I looked
upwards. The railing was frail enough, but nothing to those which
skirted the terrible winding staircase, that appeared, from where I
stood, to ascend to the skies.
"Now then, Henry."
"I can't do it!" I cried, in accents of despair.
"Are you, after all, a coward, sir?" said my uncle in a pitiless
tone. "Go up, I say!"
To this there was no reply possible. And yet the keen air acted
violently on my nervous system; sky, earth, all seemed to swim
round, while the steeple rocked like a ship. My legs gave way like
those of a drunken man. I crawled upon my hands and knees; I hauled
myself up slowly, crawling like a snake. Presently I closed my eyes,
and allowed myself to be dragged upwards.
"Look around you," said my uncle in a stern voice, "heaven knows
what profound abysses you may have to look down. This is excellent
practice."
Slowly, and shivering all the while with cold, I opened my eyes.
What then did I see? My first glance was upwards at the cold fleecy
clouds, which as by some optical delusion appeared to stand still,
while the steeple, the weathercock, and our two selves were carried
swiftly along. Far away on one side could be seen the grassy plain,
while on the other lay the sea bathed in translucent light. The
Sund, or Sound as we call it, could be discovered beyond the point
of Elsinore, crowded with white sails, which, at that distance
looked like the wings of seagulls; while to the east could be made out
the far-off coast of Sweden. The whole appeared a magic panorama.
But faint and bewildered as I was, there was no remedy for it.
Rise and stand up I must. Despite my protestations my first lesson
lasted quite an hour. When, nearly two hours later, I reached the
bosom of mother earth, I was like a rheumatic old man bent double with
pain.
"Enough for one day," said my uncle, rubbing his hands, "we will
begin again tomorrow."
There was no remedy. My lessons lasted five days, and at the end
of that period, I ascended blithely enough, and found myself able to
look down into the depths below without even winking, and with some
degree of pleasure.
CHAPTER 6: Our Voyage to Iceland
-
THE hour of departure came at last. The night before, the worthy Mr.
Thompson brought us the most cordial letters of introduction for Baron
Trampe, Governor of Iceland, for M. Pictursson, coadjutor to the
bishop, and for M. Finsen, mayor of the town of Reykjavik. In
return, my uncle nearly crushed his hands, so warmly did he shake
them.
On the second of the month, at two in the morning, our precious
cargo of luggage was taken on board the good ship Valkyrie. We
followed, and were very politely introduced by the captain to a
small cabin with two standing bed places, neither very well ventilated
nor very comfortable. But in the cause of science men are expected
to suffer.
"Well," and have we a fair wind?" cried my uncle, in his most
mellifluous accents.
"An excellent wind!" replied Captain Bjarne; "we shall leave the
Sound, going free with all sails set."
A few minutes afterwards, the schooner started before the wind,
under all the canvas she could carry, and entered the channel. An hour
later, the capital of Denmark seemed to sink into the waves, and we
were at no great distance from the coast of Elsinore. My uncle was
delighted; for myself, moody and dissatisfied, I appeared almost to
expect a glimpse of the ghost of Hamlet.
"Sublime madman thought I, "you doubtless would approve our
proceedings. You might perhaps even follow us to the center of the
earth, there to resolve your eternal doubts."
But no ghost or anything else appeared upon the ancient walls. The
fact is, the castle is much later than the time of the heroic prince
of Denmark. It is now the residence of the keeper of the Strait of the
Sound, and through that Sound more than fifteen thousand vessels of
all nations pass every year.
The castle of Kronborg soon disappeared in the murky atmosphere,
as well as the tower of Helsinborg, which raises its head on the
Swedish Bank. And here the schooner began to feel in earnest the
breezes of the Kattegat. The Valkyrie was swift enough, but with all
sailing boats there is the same uncertainty. Her cargo was coal,
furniture, pottery, woolen clothing, and a load of corn. As usual, the
crew was small, five Danes doing the whole of the work.
"How long will the voyage last?" asked my uncle.
"Well," I should think about ten days," replied the skipper,
"unless, indeed, we meet with some northeast gales among the Faroe
Islands."
"At all events, there will be no very considerable delay," cried the
impatient Professor.
"No, Mr. Hardwigg," said the captain, "no fear of that. At all
events, we shall get there some day."
Towards evening the schooner doubled Cape Skagen, the northernmost
part of Denmark, crossed the Skagerrak during the night- skirted the
extreme point of Norway through the gut of Cape Lindesnes, and then
reached the Northern Seas. Two days later we were not far from the
coast of Scotland, somewhere near what Danish sailors call
Peterhead, and then the Valkyrie stretched out direct for the Faroe
Islands, between Orkney and Shetland. Our vessel now felt the full
force of the ocean waves, and the wind shifting, we with great
difficulty made the Faroe Isles. On the eighth day, the captain made
out Myganness, the westernmost of the isles, and from that moment
headed direct for Portland, a cape on the southern shores of the
singular island for which we were bound.
The voyage offered no incident worthy of record. I bore it very
well, but my uncle to his great annoyance, and even shame, was
remarkably seasick! This mal de mer troubled him the more that it
prevented him from questioning Captain Bjarne as to the subject of
Sneffels, as to the means of communication, and the facilities of
transport. All these explanations he had to adjourn to the period of
his arrival. His time, meanwhile, was spent lying in bed groaning, and
dwelling anxiously on the hoped-for termination of the voyage. I
didn't pity him.
On the eleventh day we sighted Cape Portland, over which towered
Mount Myrdals Yokul, which, the weather being clear, we made out
very readily. The cape itself is nothing but a huge mount of granite
standing naked and alone to meet the Atlantic waves. The Valkyrie kept
off the coast, steering to the westward. On all sides were to be
seen whole "schools" of whales and sharks. After some hours we came in
sight of a solitary rock in the ocean, forming a mighty vault, through
which the foaming waves poured with intense fury. The islets of
Westman appeared to leap from the ocean, being so low in the water
as scarcely to be seen until you were right upon them. From that
moment the schooner was steered to the westward in order to round Cape
Reykjanes, the western point of Iceland.
My uncle, to his great disgust, was unable even to crawl on deck, so
heavy a sea was on, and thus lost the first view of the Land of
Promise. Forty-eight hours later, after a storm which drove us far
to sea under bare poles, we came once more in sight of land, and
were boarded by a pilot, who, after three hours of dangerous
navigation, brought the schooner safely to an anchor in the bay of
Faxa before Reykjavik.
My uncle came out of his cabin pale, haggard, thin, but full of
enthusiasm, his eyes dilated with pleasure and satisfaction. Nearly
the whole population of the town was on foot to see us land. The
fact was, that scarcely any one of them but expected some goods by the
periodical vessel.
Professor Hardwigg was in haste to leave his prison, or rather as he
called it, his hospital; but before he attempted to do so, he caught
hold of my hand, led me to the quarterdeck of the schooner, took my
arm with his left hand, and pointed inland with his right, over the
northern part of the bay, to where rose a high two-peaked mountain-
a double cone covered with eternal snow.
"Behold he whispered in an awe-stricken voice, behold- Mount
Sneffels!"
Then without further remark, he put his finger to his lips,
frowned darkly, and descended into the small boat which awaited us.
I followed, and in a few minutes we stood upon the soil of
mysterious Iceland!
Scarcely were we fairly on shore when there appeared before us a man
of excellent appearance, wearing the costume of a military officer. He
was, however, but a civil servant, a magistrate, the governor of the
island- Baron Trampe. The Professor knew whom he had to deal with.
He therefore handed him the letters from Copenhagen, and a brief
conversation in Danish followed, to which I of course was a
stranger, and for a very good reason, for I did not know the
language in which they conversed. I afterwards heard, however, that
Baron Trampe placed himself entirely at the beck and call of Professor
Hardwigg.
My uncle was most graciously received by M. Finsen, the mayor, who
as far as costume went, was quite as military as the governor, but
also from character and occupation quite as pacific. As for his
coadjutor, M. Pictursson, he was absent on an episcopal visit to the
northern portion of the diocese. We were therefore compelled to
defer the pleasure of being presented to him. His absence was,
however, more than compensated by the presence of M. Fridriksson,
professor of natural science in the college of Reykjavik, a man of
invaluable ability. This modest scholar spoke no languages save
Icelandic and Latin. When, therefore, he addressed himself to me in
the language of Horace, we at once came to understand one another.
He was, in fact, the only person that I did thoroughly understand
during the whole period of my residence in this benighted island.
Out of three rooms of which his house was composed, two were
placed at our service, and in a few hours we were installed with all
our baggage, the amount of which rather astonished the simple
inhabitants of Reykjavik.
"Now, Harry," said my uncle, rubbing his hands, "an goes well, the
worse difficulty is now over."
"How the worse difficulty over?" I cried in fresh amazement.
"Doubtless. Here we are in Iceland. Nothing more remains but to
descend into the bowels of the earth."
"Well, sir, to a certain extent you are right. We have only to go
down- but, as far as I am concerned, that is not the question. I
want to know how we are to get up again."
"That is the least part of the business, and does not in any way
trouble me. In the meantime, there is not an hour to lose. I am
about to visit the public library. Very likely I may find there some
manuscripts from the hand of Saknussemm. I shall be glad to consult
them."
"In the meanwhile," I replied, "I will take a walk through the town.
Will you not likewise do so?"
"I feel no interest in the subject," said my uncle. "What for me
is curious in this island, is not what is above the surface, but
what is below."
I bowed by way of reply, put on my hat and furred cloak, and went
out.
It was not an easy matter to lose oneself in the two streets of
Reykjavik; I had therefore no need to ask my way. The town lies on a
flat and marshy plain, between two hills. A vast field of lava
skirts it on one side, falling away in terraces towards the sea. On
the other hand is the large bay of Faxa, bordered on the north by
the enormous glacier of Sneffels, and in which bay the Valkyrie was
then the only vessel at anchor. Generally there were one or two
English or French gunboats, to watch and protect the fisheries in
the offing. They were now, however, absent on duty.
The longest of the streets of Reykjavik runs parallel to the
shore. In this street the merchants and traders live in wooden huts
made with beams of wood, painted red- mere log huts, such as you
find in the wilds of America. The other street, situated more to the
west, runs toward a little lake between the residences of the bishop
and the other personages not engaged in commerce.
I had soon seen all I wanted of these weary and dismal
thoroughfares. Here and there was a strip of discolored turf, like
an old worn-out bit of woolen carpet; and now and then a bit of
kitchen garden, in which grew potatoes, cabbage, and lettuce, almost
diminutive enough to suggest the idea of Lilliput.
In the center of the new commercial street, I found the public
cemetery, enclosed by an earthen wall. Though not very large, it
appeared not likely to be filled for centuries. From hence I went to
the house of the Governor- a mere hut in comparison with the Mansion
House of Hamburg- but a palace alongside the other Icelandic houses.
Between the little lake and the town was the church, built in simple
Protestant style, and composed of calcined stones, thrown up by
volcanic action. I have not the slightest doubt that in high winds its
red tiles were blown out, to the great annoyance of the pastor and
congregation. Upon an eminence close at hand was the national
school, in which were taught Hebrew, English, French, and Danish.
In three hours my tour was complete. The general impression upon
my mind was sadness. No trees, no vegetation, so to speak- on all
sides volcanic peaks- the huts of turf and earth- more like roofs than
houses. Thanks to the heat of these residences, grass grows on the
roof, which grass is carefully cut for hay. I saw but few
inhabitants during my excursion, but I met a crowd on the beach,
drying, salting and loading codfish, the principal article of
exportation. The men appeared robust but heavy; fair-haired like
Germans, but of pensive mien- exiles of a higher scale in the ladder
of humanity than the Eskimos, but, I thought, much more unhappy, since
with superior perceptions they are compelled to live within the limits
of the Polar Circle.
Sometimes they gave vent to a convulsive laugh, but by no chance did
they smile. Their costume consists of a coarse capote of black wool,
known in Scandinavian countries as the "vadmel," a broad-brimmed
hat, trousers of red serge, and a piece of leather tied with strings
for a shoe- a coarse kind of moccasin. The women, though sad-looking
and mournful, had rather agreeable features, without much
expression. They wear a bodice and petticoat of somber vadmel. When
unmarried they wear a little brown knitted cap over a crown of plaited
hair; but when married, they cover their heads with a colored
handkerchief, over which they tie a white scarf.
CHAPTER 7: Conversation and Discovery
-
WHEN I returned, dinner was ready. This meal was devoured by my
worthy relative with avidity and voracity. His shipboard diet had
turned his interior into a perfect gulf. The repast, which was more
Danish than Icelandic, was in itself nothing, but the excessive
hospitality of our host made us enjoy it doubly.
The conversation turned upon scientific matters, and M.
Fridriksson asked my uncle what he thought of the public library.
"Library, sir?" cried my uncle; "it appears to me a collection of
useless odd volumes, and a beggarly amount of empty shelves."
"What!" cried M. Fridriksson; "why, we have eight thousand volumes
of most rare and valuable works- some in the Scandinavian language,
besides all the new publications from Copenhagen."
"Eight thousand volumes, my dear sir- why, where are they?" cried my
uncle.
"Scattered over the country, Professor Hardwigg. We are very
studious, my dear sir, though we do live in Iceland. Every farmer,
every laborer, every fisherman can both read and write- and we think
that books instead of being locked up in cupboards, far from the sight
of students, should be distributed as widely as possible. The books of
our library are therefore passed from hand to hand without returning
to the library shelves perhaps for years."
"Then when foreigners visit you, there is nothing for them to see?"
"Well," sir, foreigners have their own libraries, and our first
consideration is, that our humbler classes should be highly
educated. Fortunately, the love of study is innate in the Icelandic
people. In 1816 we founded a Literary Society and Mechanics'
Institute; many foreign scholars of eminence are honorary members;
we publish books destined to educate our people, and these books
have rendered valuable services to our country. Allow me to have the
honor, Professor Hardwigg, to enroll you as an honorary member?"
My uncle, who already belonged to nearly every literary and
scientific institution in Europe, immediately yielded to the amiable
wishes of good M. Fridriksson.
"And now," he said, after many expressions of gratitude and good
will, "if you will tell me what books you expected to find, perhaps
I may be of some assistance to you."
I watched my uncle keenly. For a minute or two he hesitated, as if
unwilling to speak; to speak openly was, perhaps, to unveil his
projects. Nevertheless, after some reflection, he made up his mind.
"Well," M. Fridriksson," he said in an easy, unconcerned kind of
way, "I was desirous of ascertaining, if among other valuable works,
you had any of the learned Arne Saknussemm."
"Arne Saknussemm!" cried the Professor of Reykjavik; "you speak of
one of the most distinguished scholars of the sixteenth century, of
the great naturalist, the great alchemist, the great traveler."
"Exactly so."
"One of the most distinguished men connected with Icelandic
science and literature."
"As you say, sir-"
"A man illustrious above all."
"Yes, sir, all this is true, but his works?"
"We have none of them."
"Not in Iceland?"
"There are none in Iceland or elsewhere," answered the other, sadly.
"Why so?"
"Because Arne Saknussemm was persecuted for heresy, and in 1573
his works were publicly burnt at Copenhagen, by the hands of the
common hangman."
"Very good! capital!" murmured my uncle, to the great astonishment
of the worthy Icelander.
"You said, sir-"
"Yes, yes, all is clear, I see the link in the chain; everything
is explained, and I now understand why Arne Saknussemm, put out of
court, forced to hide his magnificent discoveries, was compelled to
conceal beneath the veil of an incomprehensible cryptograph, the
secret-"
"What secret?"
"A secret- which," stammered my uncle.
"Have you discovered some wonderful manuscript?" cried M.
Fridriksson.
"No! no, I was carried away by my enthusiasm. A mere supposition."
"Very good, sir. But, really, to turn to another subject, I hope you
will not leave our island without examining into its mineralogical
riches."
"Well," the fact is, I am rather late. So many learned men have been
here before me."
"Yes, yes, but there is still much to be done," cried M.
Fridriksson.
"You think so," said my uncle, his eyes twinkling with hidden
satisfaction.
"Yes, you have no idea how many unknown mountains, glaciers,
volcanoes there are which remain to be studied. Without moving from
where we sit, I can show you one. Yonder on the edge of the horizon,
you see Sneffels."
"Oh yes, Sneffels," said my uncle.
"One of the most curious volcanoes in existence, the crater of which
has been rarely visited."
"Extinct?"
"Extinct, any time these five hundred years," was the ready reply.
"Well," said my uncle, who dug his nails into his flesh, and pressed
his knees tightly together to prevent himself leaping up with joy.
"I have a great mind to begin my studies with an examination of the
geological mysteries of this Mount Seffel- Feisel- what do you call
it?"
"Sneffels, my dear sir."
This portion of the conversation took place in Latin, and I
therefore understood all that had been said. I could scarcely keep
my countenance when I found my uncle so cunningly concealing his
delight and satisfaction. I must confess that his artful grimaces, put
on to conceal his happiness, made him look like a new Mephistopheles.
"Yes, yes," he continued, "your proposition delights me. I will
endeavor to climb to the summit of Sneffels, and, if possible, will
descend into its crater."
"I very much regret," continued M. Fridriksson, "that my
occupation will entirely preclude the possibility of my accompanying
you. It would have been both pleasurable and profitable if I could
have spared the time."
"No, no, a thousand times no," cried my uncle. "I do not wish to
disturb the serenity of any man. I thank you, however, with all my
heart. The presence of one so learned as yourself, would no doubt have
been most useful, but the duties of your office and profession
before everything."
In the innocence of his simple heart, our host did not perceive
the irony of these remarks.
"I entirely approve your project," continued the Icelander after
some further remarks. "It is a good idea to begin by examining this
volcano. You will make a harvest of curious observations. In the first
place, how do you propose to get to Sneffels?"
"By sea. I shall cross the bay. Of course that is the most rapid
route."
"Of course. But still it cannot be done."
"Why?"
"We have not an available boat in all Reykjavik," replied the other.
"What is to be done?"
"You must go by land along the coast. It is longer, but much more
interesting."
"Then I must have a guide."
"Of course; and I have your very man."
"Somebody on whom I can depend."
"Yes, an inhabitant of the peninsula on which Sneffels is
situated. He is a very shrewd and worthy man, with whom you will be
pleased. He speaks Danish like a Dane."
"When can I see him- today?"
"No, tomorrow; he will not be here before."
"Tomorrow be it," replied my uncle, with a deep sigh.
The conversation ended by compliments on both sides. During the
dinner my uncle had learned much as to the history of Arne Saknussemm,
the reasons for his mysterious and hieroglyphical document. He also
became aware that his host would not accompany him on his
adventurous expedition, and that next day we should have a guide.
CHAPTER 8: Off at Last
-
THAT evening I took a brief walk on the shore near Reykjavik,
after which I returned to an early sleep on my bed of coarse planks,
where I slept the sleep of the just. When I awoke I heard my uncle
speaking loudly in the next room. I rose hastily and joined him. He
was talking in Danish with a man of tall stature, and of perfectly
Herculean build. This man appeared to be possessed of very great
strength. His eyes, which started rather prominently from a very large
head, the face belonging to which was simple and naive, appeared
very quick and intelligent. Very long hair, which even in England
would have been accounted exceedingly red, fell over his athletic
shoulders. This native of Iceland was active and supple in appearance,
though he scarcely moved his arms, being in fact one of those men
who despise the habit of gesticulation common to southern people.
Everything in this man's manner revealed a calm and phlegmatic
temperament. There was nothing indolent about him, but his
appearance spoke of tranquillity. He was one of those who never seemed
to expect anything from anybody, who liked to work when he thought
proper, and whose philosophy nothing could astonish or trouble.
I began to comprehend his character, simply from the way in which he
listened to the wild and impassioned verbiage of my worthy uncle.
While the excellent Professor spoke sentence after sentence, he
stood with folded arms, utterly still, motionless to all my uncle's
gesticulations. When he wanted to say No he moved his head from left
to right; when he acquiesced he nodded, so slightly that you could
scarcely see the undulation of his head. This economy of motion was
carried to the length of avarice.
Judging from his appearance I should have been a long time before
I had suspected him to be what he was, a mighty hunter. Certainly
his manner was not likely to frighten the game. How, then, did he
contrive to get at his prey?
My surprise was slightly modified when I knew that this tranquil and
solemn personage was only a hunter of the eider duck, the down of
which is, after all, the greatest source of the Icelanders' wealth.
In the early days of summer, the female of the eider, a pretty
sort of duck, builds its nest amid the rocks of the fjords- the name
given to all narrow gulfs in Scandinavian countries- with which
every part of the island is indented. No sooner has the eider duck
made her nest than she lines the inside of it with the softest down
from her breast. Then comes the hunter or trader, taking away the
nest, the poor bereaved female begins her task over again, and this
continues as long as any eider down is to be found.
When she can find no more the male bird sets to work to see what
he can do. As, however, his down is not so soft, and has therefore
no commercial value, the hunter does not take the trouble to rob him
of his nest lining. The nest is accordingly finished, the eggs are
laid, the little ones are born, and next year the harvest of eider
down is again collected.
Now, as the eider duck never selects steep rocks or aspects to build
its nest, but rather sloping and low cliffs near to the sea, the
Icelandic hunter can carry on his trade operations without much
difficulty. He is like a farmer who has neither to plow, to sow, nor
to harrow, only to collect his harvest.
This grave, sententious, silent person, as phlegmatic as an
Englishman on the French stage, was named Hans Bjelke. He had called
upon us in consequence of the recommendation of M. Fridriksson. He
was, in fact, our future guide. It struck me that had I sought the
world over, I could not have found a greater contradiction to my
impulsive uncle.
They, however, readily understood one another. Neither of them had
any thought about money; one was ready to take all that was offered
him, the other ready to offer anything that was asked. It may
readily be conceived, then, that an understanding was soon come to
between them.
Now, the understanding was, that he was to take us to the village of
Stapi, situated on the southern slope of the peninsula of Sneffels, at
the very foot of the volcano. Hans, the guide, told us the distance
was about twenty-two miles, a journey which my uncle supposed would
take about two days.
But when my uncle came to understand that they were Danish miles, of
eight thousand yards each, he was obliged to be more moderate in his
ideas, and, considering the horrible roads we had to follow, to
allow eight or ten days for the journey.
Four horses were prepared for us, two to carry the baggage, and
two to bear the important weight of myself and uncle. Hans declared
that nothing ever would make him climb on the back of any animal. He
knew every inch of that part of the coast, and promised to take us the
very shortest way.
His engagement with my uncle was by no means to cease with our
arrival at Stapi; he was further to remain in his service during the
whole time required for the completion of his scientific
investigations, at the fixed salary of three rix-dollars a week, being
exactly fourteen shillings and twopence, minus one farthing, English
currency. One stipulation, however, was made by the guide- the money
was to be paid to him every Saturday night, failing which, his
engagement was at an end.
The day of our departure was fixed. My uncle wished to hand the
eider-down hunter an advance, but he refused in one emphatic word-
"Efter."
Which being translated from Icelandic into plain English means-
"After."
The treaty concluded, our worthy guide retired without another word.
"A splendid fellow," said my uncle; "only he little suspects the
marvelous part he is about to play in the history of the world."
"You mean, then," I cried in amazement, "that he should accompany
us?"
"To the interior of the earth, yes," replied my uncle. "Why not?"
There were yet forty-eight hours to elapse before we made our
final start. To my great regret, our whole time was taken up in making
preparations for our journey. All our industry and ability were
devoted to packing every object in the most advantageous manner- the
instruments on one side, the arms on the other, the tools here and the
provisions there. There were, in fact, four distinct groups.
The instruments were of course of the best manufacture:
1. A centigrade thermometer of Eigel, counting up to 150 degrees,
which to me did not appear half enough- or too much. Too hot by
half, if the degree of heat was to ascend so high- in which case we
should certainly be cooked- not enough, if we wanted to ascertain
the exact temperature of springs or metal in a state of fusion.
2. A manometer worked by compressed air, an instrument used to
ascertain the upper atmospheric pressure on the level of the ocean.
Perhaps a common barometer would not have done as well, the
atmospheric pressure being likely to increase in proportion as we
descended below the surface of the earth.
3. A first-class chronometer made by Boissonnas, of Geneva, set at
the meridian of Hamburg, from which Germans calculate, as the
English do from Greenwich, and the French from Paris.
4. Two compasses, one for horizontal guidance, the other to
ascertain the dip.
5. A night glass.
6. Two Ruhmkorff coils, which, by means of a current of electricity,
would ensure us a very excellent, easily carried, and certain means of
obtaining light. *001
7. A voltaic battery on the newest principle.
Our arms consisted of two rifles, with two revolving six-shooters.
Why these arms were provided it was impossible for me to say. I had
every reason to believe that we had neither wild beasts nor savage
natives to fear. My uncle, on the other hand, was quite as devoted
to his arsenal as to his collection of instruments, and above all
was very careful with his provision of fulminating or gun cotton,
warranted to keep in any climate, and of which the expansive force was
known to be greater than that of ordinary gunpowder.
Our tools consisted of two pickaxes, two crowbars, a silken
ladder, three iron-shod Alpine poles, a hatchet, a hammer, a dozen
wedges, some pointed pieces of iron, and a quantity of strong rope.
You may conceive that the whole made a tolerable parcel, especially
when I mention that the ladder itself was three hundred feet long!
Then there came the important question of provisions. The hamper was
not very large but tolerably satisfactory, for I knew that in
concentrated essence of meat and biscuit there was enough to last
six months. The only liquid provided by my uncle was Schiedam. Of
water, not a drop. We had, however, an ample supply of gourds, and
my uncle counted on finding water, and enough to fill them, as soon as
we commenced our downward journey. My remarks as to the temperature,
the quality, and even as to the possibility of none being found,
remained wholly without effect.
To make up the exact list of our traveling gear- for the guidance of
future travelers- add, that we carried a medicine and surgical chest
with all apparatus necessary for wounds, fractures and blows; lint,
scissors, lancets- in fact, a perfect collection of horrible looking
instruments; a number of vials containing ammonia, alcohol, ether,
Goulard water, aromatic vinegar, in fact, every possible and
impossible drug- finally, all the materials for working the
Ruhmkorff coil!
My uncle had also been careful to lay in a goodly supply of tobacco,
several flasks of very fine gunpowder, boxes of tinder, besides a
large belt crammed full of notes and gold. Good boots rendered
watertight were to be found to the number of six in the tool box.
"My boy, with such clothing, with such boots, and such general
equipment," said my uncle, in a state of rapturous delight, "we may
hope to travel far."
It took a whole day to put all these matters in order. In the
evening we dined with Baron Trampe, in company with the Mayor of
Reykjavik, and Doctor Hyaltalin, the great medical man of Iceland.
M. Fridriksson was not present, and I was afterwards sorry to hear
that he and the governor did not agree on some matters connected
with the administration of the island. Unfortunately, the
consequence was, that I did not understand a word that was said at
dinner- a kind of semiofficial reception. One thing I can say, my
uncle never left off speaking.
The next day our labor came to an end. Our worthy host delighted
my uncle, Professor Hardwigg, by giving him a good map of Iceland, a
most important and precious document for a mineralogist.
Our last evening was spent in a long conversation with M.
Fridriksson, whom I liked very much- the more that I never expected to
see him or anyone else again. After this agreeable way of spending
an hour or so, I tried to sleep. In vain; with the exception of a
few dozes, my night was miserable.
At five o'clock in the morning I was awakened from the only real
half hour's sleep of the night by the loud neighing of horses under my
window. I hastily dressed myself and went down into the street. Hans
was engaged in putting the finishing stroke to our baggage, which he
did in a silent, quiet way that won my admiration, and yet he did it
admirably well. My uncle wasted a great deal of breath in giving him
directions, but worthy Hans took not the slightest notice of his
words.
At six o'clock all our preparations were completed, and M.
Fridriksson shook hands heartily with us. My uncle thanked him warmly,
in the Icelandic language, for his kind hospitality, speaking truly
from the heart.
As for myself I put together a few of my best Latin phrases and paid
him the highest compliments I could. This fraternal and friendly
duty performed, we sallied forth and mounted our horses.
As soon as we were quite ready, M. Fridriksson advanced, and by
way of farewell, called after me in the words of Virgil- words which
appeared to have been made for us, travelers starting for an uncertain
destination:
"Et quacunque viam dederit fortuna sequamur."
("And whichsoever way thou goest, may fortune follow!")
CHAPTER 9: We Meet with adventures
-
THE weather was overcast but settled, when we commenced our
adventurous and perilous journey. We had neither to fear fatiguing
heat nor drenching rain. It was, in fact, real tourist weather.
As there was nothing I liked better than horse exercise, the
pleasure of riding through an unknown country caused the early part of
our enterprise to be particularly agreeable to me.
I began to enjoy the exhilarating delight of traveling, a life of
desire, gratification and liberty. The truth is, that my spirits
rose so rapidly, that I began to be indifferent to what had once
appeared to be a terrible journey.
"After all," I said to myself, "what do I risk? Simply to take a
journey through a curious country, to climb a remarkable mountain, and
if the worst comes to the worst, to descend into the crater of an
extinct volcano."
There could be no doubt that this was all this terrible Saknussemm
had done. As to the existence of a gallery, or of subterraneous
passages leading into the interior of the earth, the idea was simply
absurd, the hallucination of a distempered imagination. All, then,
that may be required of me I will do cheerfully, and will create no
difficulty.
It was just before we left Reykjavik that I came to this decision.
Hans, our extraordinary guide, went first, walking with a steady,
rapid, unvarying step. Our two horses with the luggage followed of
their own accord, without requiring whip or spur. My uncle and I
came behind, cutting a very tolerable figure upon our small but
vigorous animals.
Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. It contains
thirty thousand square miles of surface, and has about seventy
thousand inhabitants. Geographers have divided it into four parts, and
we had to cross the southwest quarter which in the vernacular is
called Sudvestr Fjordungr.
Hans, on taking his departure from Reykjavik, had followed the
line of the sea. We took our way through poor and sparse meadows,
which made a desperate effort every year to show a little green.
They very rarely succeed in a good show of yellow.
The rugged summits of the rocky hills were dimly visible on the edge
of the horizon, through the misty fogs; every now and then some
heavy flakes of snow showed conspicuous in the morning light, while
certain lofty and pointed rocks were first lost in the grey low
clouds, their summits clearly visible above, like jagged reefs
rising from a troublous sea.
Every now and then a spur of rock came down through the arid ground,
leaving us scarcely room to pass. Our horses, however, appeared not
only well acquainted with the country, but by a kind of instinct, knew
which was the best road. My uncle had not even the satisfaction of
urging forward his steed by whip, spur, or voice. It was utterly
useless to show any signs of impatience. I could not help smiling to
see him look so big on his little horse; his long legs now and then
touching the ground made him look like a six-footed centaur.
"Good beast, good beast," he would cry. "I assure you, "Good
beast, good beast, Henry, that I begin to think no animal is more
intelligent than an Icelandic horse. Snow, tempest, impracticable
roads, rocks, icebergs- nothing stops him. He is brave; he is sober;
he is safe; he never makes a false step; never glides or slips from
his path. I dare to say that if any river, any fjord has to be
crossed- and I have no doubt there will be many- you will see him
enter the water without hesitation like an amphibious like an
amphibious animal, and reach the opposite side in safety. We must not,
however, attempt to hurry him; we must allow him to have his own
way, and I will undertake to say that between us we shall do our ten
leagues a day."
"We may do so," was my reply, "but what about our worthy guide?"
"I have not the slightest anxiety about him: that sort of people
go ahead without knowing even what they are about. Look at Hans. He
moves so little that it is impossible for him to become fatigued.
Besides, if he were to complain of weariness, he could have the loan
of my horse. I should have a violent attack of the cramp if I were not
to have some sort of exercise. My arms are right- but my legs are
getting a little stiff."
All this while we were advancing at a rapid pace. The country we had
reached was already nearly a desert. Here and there could be seen an
isolated farm, some solitary bur, or Icelandic house, built of wood,
earth, fragments of lava- looking like beggars on the highway of life.
These wretched and miserable huts excited in us such pity that we felt
half disposed to leave alms at every door. In this country there are
no roads, paths are nearly unknown, and vegetation, poor as it was,
slowly as it reached perfection, soon obliterated all traces of the
few travelers who passed from place to place.
Nevertheless, this division of the province, situated only a few
miles from the capital, is considered one of the best cultivated and
most thickly peopled in all Iceland. What, then, must be the state
of the less known and more distant parts of the island? After
traveling fully half a Danish mile, we had met neither a farmer at the
door of his hut, nor even a wandering shepherd with his wild and
savage flock.
A few stray cows and sheep were only seen occasionally. What,
then, must we expect when we come to the upheaved regions- to the
districts broken and roughened from volcanic eruptions and
subterraneous commotions?
We were to learn this all in good time. I saw, however, on
consulting the map, that we avoided a good deal of this rough country,
by following the winding and desolate shores of the sea. In reality,
the great volcanic movement of the island, and all its attendant
phenomena, are concentrated in the interior of the island; there,
horizontal layers or strata of rocks, piled one upon the other,
eruptions of basaltic origin, and streams of lava, have given this
country a kind of supernatural reputation.
Little did I expect, however, the spectacle which awaited us when we
reached the peninsula of Sneffels, where agglomerations of nature's
ruins form a kind of terrible chaos.
Some two hours or more after we had left the city of Reykjavik, we
reached the little town called Aoalkirkja, or the principal church. It
consists simply of a few houses- not what in England or Germany we
should call a hamlet.
Hans stopped here one half hour. He shared our frugal breakfast,
answered Yes, and No to my uncle's questions as to the nature of the
road, and at last when asked where we were to pass the night was as
laconic as usual.
"Gardar!" was his one-worded reply.
I took occasion to consult the map, to see where Gardar was to be
found. After looking keenly I found a small town of that name on the
borders of the Hvalfjord, about four miles from Reykjavik. I pointed
this out to my uncle, who made a very energetic grimace.
"Only four miles out of twenty-two? Why it is only a little walk."
He was about to make some energetic observation to the guide, but
Hans, without taking the slightest notice of him, went in front of the
horses, and walked ahead with the same imperturbable phlegm he had
always exhibited.
Three hours later, still traveling over those apparently
interminable and sandy prairies, we were compelled to go round the
Kollafjord, an easier and shorter cut than crossing the gulfs. Shortly
after we entered a place of communal jurisdiction called Ejulberg, and
the clock of which would then have struck twelve, if any Icelandic
church had been rich enough to possess so valuable and useful an
article. These sacred edifices are, however, very much like these
people, who do without watches- and never miss them.
Here the horses were allowed to take some rest and refreshment, then
following a narrow strip of shore between high rocks and the sea, they
took us without further halt to the Aoalkirkja of Brantar, and after
another mile to Saurboer Annexia, a chapel of ease, situated on the
southern bank of the Hvalfjord.
It was four o'clock in the evening and we had traveled four Danish
miles, about equal to twenty English.
The fjord was in this place about half a mile in width. The sweeping
and broken waves came rolling in upon the pointed rocks; the gulf
was surrounded by rocky walls- a mighty cliff, three thousand feet
in height, remarkable for its brown strata, separated here and there
by beds of tufa of a reddish hue. Now, whatever may have been the
intelligence of our horses, I had not the slightest reliance upon
them, as a means of crossing a stormy arm of the sea. To ride over
salt water upon the back of a little horse seemed to me absurd.
"If they are really intelligent," I said to myself, "they will
certainly not make the attempt. In any case, I shall trust rather to
my own intelligence than theirs."
But my uncle was in no humor to wait. He dug his heels into the
sides of his steed, and made for the shore. His horse went to the very
edge of the water, sniffed at the approaching wave and retreated.
My uncle, who was, sooth to say, quite as obstinate as the beast
he bestrode, insisted on his making the desired advance. This
attempt was followed by a new refusal on the part of the horse which
quietly shook his head. This demonstration of rebellion was followed
by a volley of words and a stout application of whipcord; also
followed by kicks on the part of the horse, which threw its head and
heels upwards and tried to throw his rider. At length the sturdy
little pony, spreading out his legs, in a stiff and ludicrous
attitude, got from under the Professor's legs, and left him
standing, with both feet on a separate stone, like the Colossus of
Rhodes.
"Wretched animal!" cried my uncle, suddenly transformed into a
foot passenger- and as angry and ashamed as a dismounted cavalry
officer on the field of battle.
"Farja," said the guide, tapping him familiarly on the shoulder.
"What, a ferry boat!
"Der," answered Hans, pointing to where lay the boat in
question-"there."
"Well," I cried, quite delighted with the information; "so it is."
"Why did you not say so before," cried my uncle; "why not start at
once?"
"Tidvatten," said the guide.
"What does he say?" I asked, considerably puzzled by the delay and
the dialogue.
"He says tide," replied my uncle, translating the Danish word for my
information.
"Of course I understand- we must wait till the tide serves."
"For bida?" asked my uncle.
"Ja," replied Hans.
My uncle frowned, stamped his feet and then followed the horses to
where the boat lay.
I thoroughly understood and appreciated the necessity for waiting,
before crossing the fjord, for that moment when the sea at its highest
point is in a state of slack water. As neither the ebb nor flow can
then be felt, the ferry boat was in no danger of being carried out
to sea, or dashed upon the rocky coast.
The favorable moment did not come until six o'clock in the
evening. Then my uncle, myself, and guide, two boatmen and the four
horses got into a very awkward flat-bottom boat. Accustomed as I had
been to the steam ferry boats of the Elbe, I found the long oars of
the boatmen but sorry means of locomotion. We were more than an hour
in crossing the fjord; but at length the passage was concluded without
accident.
Half an hour later we reached Gardar.
CHAPTER 10: Traveling in Iceland
-
IT ought, one would have thought, to have been night, even in the
sixty-fifth parallel of latitude; but still the nocturnal illumination
did not surprise me. For in Iceland, during the months of June and
July, the sun never sets.
The temperature, however, was very much lower than I expected. I was
cold, but even that did not affect me so much as ravenous hunger.
Welcome indeed, therefore, was the hut which hospitably opened its
doors to us.
It was merely the house of a peasant, but in the matter of
hospitality, it was worthy of being the palace of a king. As we
alighted at the door the master of the house came forward, held out
his hand, and without any further ceremony, signaled to us to follow
him.
We followed him, for to accompany him was impossible. A long,
narrow, gloomy passage led into the interior of this habitation,
made from beams roughly squared by the ax. This passage gave ingress
to every room. The chambers were four in number- the kitchen, the
workshop, where the weaving was carried on, the general sleeping
chamber of the family, and the best room, to which strangers were
especially invited. My uncle, whose lofty stature had not been taken
into consideration when the house was built, contrived to knock his
head against the beams of the roof.
We were introduced into our chamber, a kind of large room with a
hard earthen floor, and lighted by a window, the panes of which were
made of a sort of parchment from the intestines of sheep- very far
from transparent.
The bedding was composed of dry hay thrown into two long red
wooden boxes, ornamented with sentences painted in Icelandic. I really
had no idea that we should be made so comfortable. There was one
objection to the house, and that was, the very powerful odor of
dried fish, of macerated meat, and of sour milk, which three
fragrances combined did not at all suit my olfactory nerves.
As soon as we had freed ourselves from our heavy traveling
costume, the voice of our host was heard calling to us to come into
the kitchen, the only room in which the Icelanders ever make any fire,
no matter how cold it may be.
My uncle, nothing loath, hastened to obey this hospitable and
friendly invitation. I followed.
The kitchen chimney was made on an antique model. A large stone
standing in the middle of the room was the fireplace; above, in the
roof, was a hole for the smoke to pass through. This apartment was
kitchen, parlor and dining room all in one.
On our entrance, our worthy host, as if he had not seen us before,
advanced ceremoniously, uttered a word which means "be happy," and
then kissed both of us on the cheek.
His wife followed, pronounced the same word, with the same
ceremonial, then the husband and wife, placing their right hands
upon their hearts, bowed profoundly.
This excellent Icelandic woman was the mother of nineteen
children, who, little and big, rolled, crawled, and walked about in
the midst of volumes of smoke arising from the angular fireplace in
the middle of the room. Every now and then I could see a fresh white
head, and a slightly melancholy expression of countenance, peering
at me through the vapor.
Both my uncle and myself, however, were very friendly with the whole
party, and before we were aware of it, there were three or four of
these little ones on our shoulders, as many on our boxes, and the rest
hanging about our legs. Those who could speak kept crying out
saellvertu in every possible and impossible key. Those who did not
speak only made all the more noise.
This concert was interrupted by the announcement of supper. At
this moment our worthy guide, the eider-duck hunter, came in after
seeing to the feeding and stabling of the horses- which consisted in
letting them loose to browse on the stunted green of the Icelandic
prairies. There was little for them to eat, but moss and some very dry
and innutritious grass; next day they were ready before the door, some
time before we were.
"Welcome," said Hans.
Then tranquilly, with the air of an automaton, without any more
expression in one kiss than another, he embraced the host and
hostess and their nineteen children.
This ceremony concluded to the satisfaction of all parties, we all
sat down to table, that is twenty-four of us, somewhat crowded.
Those who were best off had only two juveniles on their knees.
As soon, however, as the inevitable soup was placed on the table,
the natural taciturnity, common even to Icelandic babies, prevailed
over all else. Our host filled our plates with a portion of lichen
soup of Iceland moss, of by no means disagreeable flavor, an
enormous lump of fish floating in sour butter. After that there came
some skyr, a kind of curds and whey, served with biscuits and
juniper-berry juice. To drink, we had blanda, skimmed milk with water.
I was hungry, so hungry, that by way of dessert I finished up with a
basin of thick oaten porridge.
As soon as the meal was over, the children disappeared, whilst the
grown people sat around the fireplace, on which was placed turf,
heather, cow dung and dried fish-bones. As soon as everybody was
sufficiently warm, a general dispersion took place, all retiring to
their respective couches. Our hostess offered to pull off our
stockings and trousers, according to the custom of the country, but as
we graciously declined to be so honored, she left us to our bed of dry
fodder.
Next day, at five in the morning, we took our leave of these
hospitable peasants. My uncle had great difficulty in making them
accept a sufficient and proper remuneration.
Hans then gave the signal to start.
We had scarcely got a hundred yards from Gardar, when the
character of the country changed. The soil began to be marshy and
boggy, and less favorable to progress. To the right, the range of
mountains was prolonged indefinitely like a great system of natural
fortifications, of which we skirted the glacis. We met with numerous
streams and rivulets which it was necessary to ford, and that
without wetting our baggage. As we advanced, the deserted appearance
increased, and yet now and then we could see human shadows flitting in
the distance. When a sudden turn of the track brought us within easy
reach of one of these specters, I felt a sudden impulse of disgust
at the sight of a swollen head, with shining skin, utterly without
hair, and whose repulsive and revolting wounds could be seen through
his rags. The unhappy wretches never came forward to beg; on the
contrary, they ran away; not so quick, however, but that Hans was able
to salute them with the universal saellvertu.
"Spetelsk," said he.
"A leper," explained my uncle.
The very sound of such a word caused a feeling of repulsion. The
horrible affliction known as leprosy, which has almost vanished before
the effects of modern science, is common in Iceland. It is not
contagious but hereditary, so that marriage is strictly prohibited
to these unfortunate creatures.
These poor lepers did not tend to enliven our journey, the scene
of which was inexpressibly sad and lonely. The very last tufts of
grassy vegetation appeared to die at our feet. Not a tree was to be
seen, except a few stunted willows about as big as blackberry
bushes. Now and then we watched a falcon soaring in the grey and misty
air, taking his flight towards warmer and sunnier regions. I could not
help feeling a sense of melancholy come over me. I sighed for my own
Native Land, and wished to be back with Gretchen.
We were compelled to cross several little fjords, and at last came
to a real gulf. The tide was at its height, and we were able to go
over at once, and reach the hamlet of Alftanes, about a mile farther.
That evening, after fording the Alfa and the Heta, two rivers rich
in trout and pike, we were compelled to pass the night in a deserted
house, worthy of being haunted by all the fays of Scandinavian
mythology. The King of Cold had taken up his residence there, and made
us feel his presence all night.
The following day was remarkable by its lack of any particular
incidents. Always the same damp and swampy soil; the same dreary
uniformity; the same sad and monotonous aspect of scenery. In the
evening, having accomplished the half of our projected journey, we
slept at the Annexia of Krosolbt.
For a whole mile we had under our feet nothing but lava. This
disposition of the soil is called hraun: the crumbled lava on the
surface was in some instances like ship cables stretched out
horizontally, in others coiled up in heaps; an immense field of lava
came from the neighboring mountains, all extinct volcanoes, but
whose remains showed what once they had been. Here and there could
be made out the steam from hot water springs.
There was no time, however, for us to take more than a cursory
view of these phenomena. We had to go forward with what speed we
might. Soon the soft and swampy soil again appeared under the feet
of our horses, while at every hundred yards we came upon one or more
small lakes. Our journey was now in a westerly direction; we had, in
fact, swept round the great bay of Faxa, and the twin white summits of
Sneffels rose to the clouds at a distance of less than five miles.
The horses now advanced rapidly. The accidents and difficulties of
the soil no longer checked them. I confess that fatigue began to
tell severely upon me; but my uncle was as firm and as hard as he
had been on the first day. I could not help admiring both the
excellent Professor and the worthy guide; for they appeared to
regard this rugged expedition as a mere walk!
On Saturday, the 20th June, at six o'clock in the evening, we
reached Budir, a small town picturesquely situated on the shore of the
ocean; and here the guide asked for his money. My uncle settled with
him immediately. It was now the family of Hans himself, that is to
say, his uncles, his cousins-german, who offered us hospitality. We
were exceedingly well received, and without taking too much
advantage of the goodness of these worthy people, I should have
liked very much to have rested with them after the fatigues of the
journey. But my uncle, who did not require rest, had no idea of
anything of the kind; and despite the fact that next day was Sunday, I
was compelled once more to mount my steed.
The soil was again affected by the neighborhood of the mountains,
whose granite peered out of the ground like tops of an old oak. We
were skirting the enormous base of the mighty volcano. My uncle
never took his eyes from off it; he could not keep from gesticulating,
and looking at it with a kind of sullen defiance as much as to say
"That is the giant I have made up my mind to conquer."
After four hours of steady traveling, the horses stopped of
themselves before the door of the presbytery of Stapi.
CHAPTER 11: We Reach Mount Sneffels
-
STAPI is a town consisting of thirty huts, built on a large plain of
lava, exposed to the rays of the sun, reflected from the volcano. It
stretches its humble tenements along the end of a little fjord,
surrounded by a basaltic wall of the most singular character.
Basalt is a brown rock of igneous origin. It assumes regular
forms, which astonish by their singular appearance. Here we found
Nature proceeding geometrically, and working quite after a human
fashion, as if she had employed the plummet line, the compass and
the rule. If elsewhere she produces grand artistic effects by piling
up huge masses without order or connection- if elsewhere we see
truncated cones, imperfect pyramids, with an odd succession of
lines; here, as if wishing to give a lesson in regularity, and
preceding the architects of the early ages, she has erected a severe
order of architecture, which neither the splendors of Babylon nor
the marvels of Greece ever surpassed.
I had often heard of the Giant's Causeway in Ireland, and of
Fingal's Cave in one of the Hebrides, but the grand spectacle of a
real basaltic formation had never yet come before my eyes.
This at Stapi gave us an idea of one in all its wonderful beauty and
grace.
The wall of the fjord, like nearly the whole of the peninsula,
consisted of a series of vertical columns, in height about thirty
feet. These upright pillars of stone, of the finest proportions,
supported an archivault of horizontal columns which formed a kind of
half-vaulted roof above the sea. At certain intervals, and below
this natural basin, the eye was pleased and surprised by the sight
of oval openings through which the outward waves came thundering in
volleys of foam. Some banks of basalt, torn from their fastenings by
the fury of the waves, lay scattered on the ground like the ruins of
an ancient temple- ruins eternally young, over which the storms of
ages swept without producing any perceptible effect!
This was the last stage of our journey. Hans had brought us along
with fidelity and intelligence, and I began to feel somewhat more
comfortable when I reflected that he was to accompany us still farther
on our way.
When we halted before the house of the Rector, a small and
incommodious cabin, neither handsome nor more comfortable than those
of his neighbors, I saw a man in the act of shoeing a horse, a
hammer in his hand, and a leathern apron tied round his waist.
"Be happy," said the eider-down hunter, using his national
salutation in his own language.
"God dag- good day!" replied the former, in excellent Danish.
"Kyrkoherde," cried Hans, turning round and introducing him to my
uncle.
"The Rector," repeated the worthy Professor; "it appears, my dear
Harry, that this worthy man is the Rector, and is not above doing
his own work."
During the speaking of these words the guide intimated to the
Kyrkoherde what was the true state of the case. The good man,
ceasing from his occupation, gave a kind of halloo, upon which a
tall woman, almost a giantess, came out of the hut. She was at least
six feet high, which in that region is something considerable.
My first impression was one of horror. I thought she had come to
give us the Icelandic kiss. I had, however, nothing to fear, for she
did not even show much inclination to receive us into her house.
The room devoted to strangers appeared to me to be by far the
worst in the presbytery; it was narrow, dirty and offensive. There
was, however, no choice about the matter. The Rector had no notion
of practicing the usual cordial and antique hospitality. Far from
it. Before the day was over, I found we had to deal with a blacksmith,
a fisherman, a hunter, a carpenter, anything but a clergyman. It
must be said in his favor that we had caught him on a weekday;
probably he appeared to greater advantage on the Sunday.
These poor priests receive from the Danish Government a most
ridiculously inadequate salary, and collect one quarter of the tithe
of their parish- not more than sixty marks current, or about L3 10s.
sterling. Hence the necessity of working to live. In truth, we soon
found that our host did not count civility among the cardinal virtues.
My uncle soon became aware of the kind of man he had to deal with.
Instead of a worthy and learned scholar, he found a dull
ill-mannered peasant. He therefore resolved to start on his great
expedition as soon as possible. He did not care about fatigue, and
resolved to spend a few days in the mountains.
The preparations for our departure were made the very next day after
our arrival at Stapi; Hans now hired three Icelanders to take the
place of the horses- which could no longer carry our luggage. When,
however, these worthy islanders had reached the bottom of the
crater, they were to go back and leave us to ourselves. This point was
settled before they would agree to start.
On this occasion, my uncle partly confided in Hans, the eider-duck
hunter, and gave him to understand that it was his intention to
continue his exploration of the volcano to the last possible limits.
Hans listened calmly, and then nodded his head. To go there, or
elsewhere, to bury himself in the bowels of the earth, or to travel
over its summits, was all the same to him! As for me, amused and
occupied by the incidents of travel, I had begun to forget the
inevitable future; but now I was once more destined to realize the
actual state of affairs. What was to be done? Run away? But if I
really had intended to leave Professor Hardwigg to his fate, it should
have been at Hamburg and not at the foot of Sneffels.
One idea, above all others, began to trouble me: a very terrible
idea, and one calculated to shake the nerves of a man even less
sensitive than myself.
"Let us consider the matter," I said to myself; "we are going to
ascend the Sneffels mountain. Well and good. We are about to pay a
visit to the very bottom of the crater. Good, still. Others have
done it and did not peris |
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