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Home -> Jules Verne -> A Journey to the Center of the Earth -> Chapter 14

A Journey to the Center of the Earth - Chapter 14

1. Preface

2. Chapter 1

3. Chapter 2

4. Chapter 3

5. Chapter 4

6. Chapter 5

7. Chapter 6

8. Chapter 7

9. Chapter 8

10. Chapter 9

11. Chapter 10

12. Chapter 11

13. Chapter 12

14. Chapter 13

15. Chapter 14

16. Chapter 15

17. Chapter 16

18. Chapter 17

19. Chapter 18

20. Chapter 19

21. Chapter 20

22. Chapter 21

23. Chapter 22

24. Chapter 23

25. Chapter 24

26. Chapter 25

27. Chapter 26

28. Chapter 27

29. Chapter 28

30. Chapter 29

31. Chapter 30

32. Chapter 31

33. Chapter 32

34. Chapter 33

35. Chapter 34

36. Chapter 35

37. Chapter 36

38. Chapter 37

39. Chapter 38

40. Chapter 39

41. Chapter 40

42. Chapter 41

43. Chapter 42

44. Chapter 43

45. Chapter 44

46. Chapter 45



Stapi is a village consisting of about thirty huts, built of lava, at
the south side of the base of the volcano. It extends along the inner
edge of a small fiord, inclosed between basaltic walls of the
strangest construction.

Basalt is a brownish rock of igneous origin. It assumes regular
forms, the arrangement of which is often very surprising. Here nature
had done her work geometrically, with square and compass and plummet.
Everywhere else her art consists alone in throwing down huge masses
together in disorder. You see cones imperfectly formed, irregular
pyramids, with a fantastic disarrangement of lines; but here, as if
to exhibit an example of regularity, though in advance of the very
earliest architects, she has created a severely simple order of
architecture, never surpassed either by the splendours of Babylon or
the wonders of Greece.

I had heard of the Giant's Causeway in Ireland, and Fingal's Cave in
Staffa, one of the Hebrides; but I had never yet seen a basaltic

At Stapi I beheld this phenomenon in all its beauty.

The wall that confined the fiord, like all the coast of the
peninsula, was composed of a series of vertical columns thirty feet
high. These straight shafts, of fair proportions, supported an
architrave of horizontal slabs, the overhanging portion of which
formed a semi-arch over the sea. At. intervals, under this natural
shelter, there spread out vaulted entrances in beautiful curves, into
which the waves came dashing with foam and spray. A few shafts of
basalt, torn from their hold by the fury of tempests, lay along the
soil like remains of an ancient temple, in ruins for ever fresh, and
over which centuries passed without leaving a trace of age upon them.

This was our last stage upon the earth. Hans had exhibited great
intelligence, and it gave me some little comfort to think then that
he was not going to leave us.

On arriving at the door of the rector's house, which was not
different from the others, I saw a man shoeing a horse, hammer in
hand, and with a leathern apron on.

"SAELIVERTU," said the hunter.

"GOD DAG," said the blacksmith in good Danish.

"KYRKOHERDE," said Hans, turning round to my uncle.

"The rector," repeated the Professor. "It seems, Axel, that this good
man is the rector."

Our guide in the meanwhile was making the 'kyrkoherde' aware of the
position of things; when the latter, suspending his labours for a
moment, uttered a sound no doubt understood between horses and
farriers, and immediately a tall and ugly hag appeared from the hut.
She must have been six feet at the least. I was in great alarm lest
she should treat me to the Icelandic kiss; but there was no occasion
to fear, nor did she do the honours at all too gracefully.

The visitors' room seemed to me the worst in the whole cabin. It was
close, dirty, and evil smelling. But we had to be content. The rector
did not to go in for antique hospitality. Very far from it. Before
the day was over I saw that we had to do with a blacksmith, a
fisherman, a hunter, a joiner, but not at all with a minister of the
Gospel. To be sure, it was a week-day; perhaps on a Sunday he made

I don't mean to say anything against these poor priests, who after
all are very wretched. They receive from the Danish Government a
ridiculously small pittance, and they get from the parish the fourth
part of the tithe, which does not come to sixty marks a year (about
4 pounds). Hence the necessity to work for their livelihood; but after
fishing, hunting, and shoeing horses for any length of time, one soon
gets into the ways and manners of fishermen, hunters, and farriers,
and other rather rude and uncultivated people; and that evening I
found out that temperance was not among the virtues that
distinguished my host.

My uncle soon discovered what sort of a man he had to do with;
instead of a good and learned man he found a rude and coarse peasant.
He therefore resolved to commence the grand expedition at once, and
to leave this inhospitable parsonage. He cared nothing about fatigue,
and resolved to spend some days upon the mountain.

The preparations for our departure were therefore made the very day
after our arrival at Stapi. Hans hired the services of three
Icelanders to do the duty of the horses in the transport of the
burdens; but as soon as we had arrived at the crater these natives
were to turn back and leave us to our own devices. This was to be
clearly understood.

My uncle now took the opportunity to explain to Hans that it was his
intention to explore the interior of the volcano to its farthest

Hans merely nodded. There or elsewhere, down in the bowels of the
earth, or anywhere on the surface, all was alike to him. For my own
part the incidents of the journey had hitherto kept me amused, and
made me forgetful of coming evils; but now my fears again were
beginning to get the better of me. But what could I do? The place to
resist the Professor would have been Hamburg, not the foot of Snaefell.

One thought, above all others, harassed and alarmed me; it was one
calculated to shake firmer nerves than mine.

Now, thought I, here we are, about to climb Snaefell. Very good. We
will explore the crater. Very good, too, others have done as much
without dying for it. But that is not all. If there is a way to
penetrate into the very bowels of the island, if that ill-advised
Saknussemm has told a true tale, we shall lose our way amidst the
deep subterranean passages of this volcano. Now, there is no proof
that Snaefell is extinct. Who can assure us that an eruption is not
brewing at this very moment? Does it follow that because the monster
has slept since 1229 he must therefore never awake again? And if he
wakes up presently, where shall we be?

It was worth while debating this question, and I did debate it. I
could not sleep for dreaming about eruptions. Now, the part of
ejected scoriae and ashes seemed to my mind a very rough one to act.

So, at last, when I could hold out no longer, I resolved to lay the
case before my uncle, as prudently and as cautiously as possible,
just under the form of an almost impossible hypothesis.

I went to him. I communicated my fears to him, and drew back a step
to give him room for the explosion which I knew must follow. But I
was mistaken.

"I was thinking of that," he replied with great simplicity.

What could those words mean?--Was he actually going to listen to
reason? Was he contemplating the abandonment of his plans? This was
too good to be true.

After a few moments' silence, during which I dared not question him,
he resumed:

"I was thinking of that. Ever since we arrived at Stapi I have been
occupied with the important question you have just opened, for we
must not be guilty of imprudence."

"No, indeed!" I replied with forcible emphasis.

"For six hundred years Snaefell has been dumb; but he may speak again.
Now, eruptions are always preceded by certain well-known phenomena. I
have therefore examined the natives, I have studied external
appearances, and I can assure you, Axel, that there will be no

At this positive affirmation I stood amazed and speechless.

"You don't doubt my word?" said my uncle. "Well, follow me."

I obeyed like an automaton. Coming out from the priest's house, the
Professor took a straight road, which, through an opening in the
basaltic wall, led away from the sea. We were soon in the open
country, if one may give that name to a vast extent of mounds of
volcanic products. This tract seemed crushed under a rain of enormous
ejected rocks of trap, basalt, granite, and all kinds of igneous

Here and there I could see puffs and jets of steam curling up into
the air, called in Icelandic 'reykir,' issuing from thermal springs,
and indicating by their motion the volcanic energy underneath. This
seemed to justify my fears: But I fell from the height of my new-born
hopes when my uncle said:

"You see all these volumes of steam, Axel; well, they demonstrate
that we have nothing to fear from the fury of a volcanic eruption."

"Am I to believe that?" I cried.

"Understand this clearly," added the Professor. "At the approach of
an eruption these jets would redouble their activity, but disappear
altogether during the period of the eruption. For the elastic fluids,
being no longer under pressure, go off by way of the crater instead
of escaping by their usual passages through the fissures in the soil.
Therefore, if these vapours remain in their usual condition, if they
display no augmentation of force, and if you add to this the
observation that the wind and rain are not ceasing and being replaced
by a still and heavy atmosphere, then you may affirm that no eruption
is preparing."


'No more; that is sufficient. When science has uttered her voice, let
babblers hold their peace.'

I returned to the parsonage, very crestfallen. My uncle had beaten me
with the weapons of science. Still I had one hope left, and this was,
that when we had reached the bottom of the crater it would be
impossible, for want of a passage, to go deeper, in spite of all the
Saknussemm's in Iceland.

I spent that whole night in one constant nightmare; in the heart of a
volcano, and from the deepest depths of the earth I saw myself tossed
up amongst the interplanetary spaces under the form of an eruptive

The next day, June 23, Hans was awaiting us with his companions
carrying provisions, tools, and instruments; two iron pointed sticks,
two rifles, and two shot belts were for my uncle and myself. Hans, as
a cautious man, had added to our luggage a leathern bottle full of
water, which, with that in our flasks, would ensure us a supply of
water for eight days.

It was nine in the morning. The priest and his tall Megaera were
awaiting us at the door. We supposed they were standing there to bid
us a kind farewell. But the farewell was put in the unexpected form
of a heavy bill, in which everything was charged, even to the very
air we breathed in the pastoral house, infected as it was. This
worthy couple were fleecing us just as a Swiss innkeeper might have
done, and estimated their imperfect hospitality at the highest price.

My uncle paid without a remark: a man who is starting for the centre
of the earth need not be particular about a few rix dollars.

This point being settled, Hans gave the signal, and we soon left
Stapi behind us.

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