“The soldiers who were guarding the ramparts fled in terror; several people died of fright, others went mad. The king was informed, who hastened to race on horseback to the northern ramparts of the city, where the spectacle was, it’s said, so terrifying—but a few moments later, everything dissipated, and the scholars of the day made the people understand that all of that great subject of fear had been nothing but an aurora borealis.
“We, who are so close to the pole, will see them almost continually.”
“That’s very good,” said the Manseau. “Everything you say there reassures me. I can see now that the fiery clouds before us aren’t charged with combatants, as I thought at first, and I can almost no longer hear the sound of trumpets or the muffled sound of thunder—but tell me, if you know, how the aurora borealis is born.”
“Certainly,” Clairancy replied, “these flaming meteors are not produced by a frozen sea or by mountains of ice, nor by soil covered with snow and frost, as some of our physicists have so ineptly proposed...”
“My personal opinion,” Williams interjected abruptly, “is that these flames, these demonic faces and these unknown noises emerge from Hell! You all know that the domain of demons is underground; perhaps it’s so difficult to approach the poles because they’re the entrances to it. In consequence, if we go any closer to the entrance, we’d better beware—the door is open!”
“In truth,” replied Clairancy, “I thought you less stupid, my poor friend. Who told you that Hell might be in the interior of our globe? Who has come back from here to bring you the news? Do you even know what Hell is? Is it given to mortals to know it? If there are demons, why has the creator, the master of the entire universe, imprisoned them in a narrow space so close to humans? What is the purpose of the other planets? I’d rather believe, with Milton and sane theologians, that the empire of the rebel angels is situated far from the sun and far from us. If Hell were in our globe, and there were the two opening at the poles that you suppose, it would receive the light of the sun, but theologians condemn it to eternal darkness. I return to my sentiment, that the pole is surrounded by mountains of iron, perhaps enclosing magnetic masses; perhaps too, these fiery exhalations are nothing but magnetic vapors, to which the constant northward direction of the compass is owed. At any rate, we’ll find out in a few days.”
At that moment, the aurora borealis dissipated, the moonlight returned, and we set forth again, conversing with one another about what we had just seen, in accordance with the way it had affected us. Tristan and I shared the joy of Edward and Clairancy. The Manseau was uncertain; only Williams persisted obstinately in telling us that we were heading for Hell. We told him in vain that Hell, with the countless multitude of demons and the damned by which it was populated, could not be contained in its entirety in the interior of our little globe; he replied to us that people doubtless shrank when they became subjects of the Devil, but that Hell was certainly beneath our feet, that his parents had told him so, as certain knowledge, and that he had heard several judicious and renowned preachers holding to the same opinion.
“Well, Edward interjected, impatiently, “if you’re going to the Devil at least go there cheerfully; you’ll be in good company, and we’re going with you...”
But that gibe did not convert the poor fellow to our sentiment, and if Clairancy had not applied himself to preaching to him as best he could we would have had the continual displeasure of hearing his jeremiads and plaints during the rest of the route we had to follow to the pole. The Manseau also employed all his rhetoric in sermonizing his comrade, and the entirety of the little troop soon seemed completely reassured.
After two or three hours of walking we saw the aurora borealis reappear. In order not to go back to that phenomenon, I shall simply say that it only ceased to illuminate us for brief intervals until our arrival at the north pole, but that its form varied incessantly; sometimes it was spread out in the distance before us, and presented a vast blazing landscape; sometimes it was condensed, and no longer seemed to us to be anything but an enormous luminous column, the foot of which was positioned exactly on the pole. It also warmed the plains of the air as we advanced, and under the eighty-fifth degree we had neither wind nor frost nor fog; the temperature was dry and pure, the cold no longer seemed sharper to us than on January mornings in England when the winter is not very harsh. We were still in the heathlands, and found pommes d’espérance, white hares and plums like those we had discovered on the sixth day of our journey quite frequently.
We also marched more slowly, because the route became much more agreeable, and we were beginning to get weary.
As we advanced, however, the ardent column that the most beautiful aurorae furnished us became less brilliant; by way of recompense, all the layers of the atmosphere became brighter; we also found some slight diminution in the cold. Under the eight-sixth degree, the temperature became extremely healthy, and with the exception of the fatigue, no one among us experienced the slightest illness. We were leading the same way of life, we had the same resources, and we were at least a hundred and eighty leagues away from the hospitable cabin after nineteen days of marching.
Then, we thought we perceived, far ahead of us, a crown of steep black mountains, which barred our passage. The luminous column emerged from the summit of those mountains, with the sound of a waterspout; it appeared to us to be several leagues thick. We thought at first that we were at the foot of a volcano, but we did not experience the heat that the neighborhood of a volcano would imply; there was nothing around us but cold springs; the surrounding plants and bushes were not burnt. The luminous column no longer resembled a mass of flame; it was a reflection of light.
Clairancy declared that it was necessary to advance as far as the foot of the mountains; that he would wager a hundred to one that they were made of iron, and that the meteor surmounting them was perhaps a portion of daylight produced by means that we would discover.
XI. Arctic forests. The Polar mountains.
The opening at the North Pole.
We crossed the eighty-seventh degree, extremely surprised to find ourselves so close to the polar crater. We had always been told that the pole was under the ninetieth degree of latitude, and we were on the point of reaching it…at least, we thought so.
“Beware of geographers,” said Williams. “We’re going to gain more than sixty leagues on their calculation. It’s true that they’ve never measured the Pole, compasses in hand; but in that case, they ought not to have given us its form and situation so boldly...”
We were in error, however, and the pole was not as close to us as we thought, for we marched for ten hours without appearing to get visibly closer to it.
That singularity caused us further embarrassment.
“Have courage,” said Clairancy, “and we’ll get there. It’s necessary to attribute the illusion we formed to the prodigious height of the Polar mountains, or to the reflections that the mass of light before us distributes. Perhaps, too, the earth is flat at its two extremities, as great physicists have supposed. In that case, it’s to that conformation, and to our dazzled eyes, that we ought to credit it.”
“At any rate,” said the Manseau, “I can certainly perceive, a quarter of league away from us, a black barrier...”
We perceived it, as he did, but dared not flatter ourselves that the barrier was so close. At every step we took, however, it did seem nearer to us.
Finally, after a quarter of an hour of walking, we did indeed find that great black barrier before us. It was not yet the mountains of the Pole; it was an immense forest, which extended further than we could see, and was planted with tall trees, quite widely spaced, in truth, but as green as pines.
That encounter, which we had not expected at all, caused us the keenest joy. We were finally reentering the domains of living nature, and the Pole was no longer the empire of winter and death. The trees around us were resinous.
We stopped on a small eminence covered with moss; Edward lit a fire,
and the little troop dined with great appetite and good hope. After that, everyone slept for a while. We counted the days by our marches, and the times of slumber were our nights.
So, on the day after our awakening, some of us examined the nature of the trees that surrounded us, which joy and fatigue had prevented us from doing when we arrived. The trees definitely did not resemble any that we had seen in Europe. The bark was like that of a pine but the leaves were long and stout; we did not perceive any fruits. As we were more curious to arrive at the end of our course than to make length observations of natural history, we soon resumed our journey, only taking note, with further surprise, that the wood of the thickets and bushes only had foliage on the stem, and bore more resemblance to rushes than anything else.
After two hours of marching Edward stopped and told us to look ahead. We perceived, two hundred paces away, a large animal grazing the moss; it was the size of an ordinary mule, but bore long horns like those of a red deer. It was a kind of reindeer. As it was not accustomed to seeing humans, it did not take flight when we appeared. Edward fired at it, and brought it down. We obtained a fine and large supply of meat; its flesh was at least as delicate as that of a roe deer. We kept the best pieces for the next halt, but it was an almost unnecessary precaution, for the forest we were traversing was abundantly populated with animals of that sort.
We did not see any birds during the entire time the journey lasted, and we took four days to traverse the polar forest. I also ought to note in passing that we stopped several times before enormous trees, one of which was seventy brasses in circumference.
The entire troop ecstasized for some time before that wooden colossus before thinking of measuring it. While making a tour of it we perceived that it was hollow and pierced by a small opening. Williams widened it with blows of an ax, and we entered into an immense room fashioned by the hand of nature.
“We’ve been marching without a rest for quite a long time,” said the Manseau. “We ought to rest here for a day, since we’ve found a comfortable shelter.”
Everyone rallied to his opinion; we deposited all the baggage in a corner, and rested for several hours, after which we went for a stroll in the surrounding area. Some of us collected fruits a little larger than our usual plums, and we feasted on them. We then slept at our ease.
Less than a league beyond the tree, we emerged from the long forest, which had doubtless been traversed for the first time, and we advanced toward the foot of the mountains, which were now only three or four hours march away from where we were looking at them.
When we arrived at a distance of a quarter of a league from the new barrier presented before us, we thought it appropriate to stop and draw breath, and to sustain ourselves with a good dinner before climbing the mountains. The air seemed to be slightly rarefied, and the ground was so cold that the little troop, although sitting on animal skins, could not remain in that posture for long. We had built a big fire in the meantime, but we could only get warm after having fashioned chairs of a sort with bundles of wood, which we covered with bear and reindeer hides and all of our hare pelts. Then we dined passably well.
As soon as we had finished our meal, Edward and Clairancy told us that they were going to leave us momentarily; that we could wait for them by the fire; that they wanted to visit the summit of the mountains we were going to cross and would return in an hour.
I combined my pleas with those of the three companions who were to remain with me, imploring Edward and Clairancy not to leave us too long in anxiety and to come back as soon as they had visited the location. They promised us that, and drew away.
The mountains, however, whose somber tint made them appear to be a quarter of a league from our halt, were more than half a league away; they were not as steep as we had judged them to be at a distance, though, and were easily climbable. Before attempting that, Clairancy first wanted to know what they were made of, as he told us later; he took out his hunting knife and struck the rock; the tip of the knife broke and the rock sounded metallically. He traced a few lines in other places; the color of iron was revealed, mingled with black earth and extremely hard.
“No more doubt,” he said to Edward. “We’ve reached the iron mountains of which true physicists have said so much; but I believed they were further on than the eighty-eighth degree of latitude. If the mountain chain is circular, their crater must be a hundred leagues in diameter. It’s from there that the mass of light emerges that gives us illumination. Let’s go look for its source.”
“Before then,” Edward replied, “as we’re probably the first Europeans, and perhaps the first mortals, who have reached this far, let’s first engrave our names and our homeland on this rock. Following the example of all famous voyagers, let’s erect a small monument to our glory, and leave behind a memory of us.”
Clairancy approved of his comrade’s idea, and they engraved with the points of their knives, on two eminences about a hundred paces apart, an inscription in Latin, French, English and Dutch:
On 8 November 1806 A.D.
Edward Wreden, Hormisdas Peath, Williams Bloum, Englishmen,
and Gabriel Clairancy, François-Paul Tristan, Jacques Martinet, Frenchmen,
arrived at the foot of these mountains after having traversed Spitzbergen,
They had departed from Portsmouth on 12 June of the same year.
After that operation, which occupied them for more than an hour, they advanced into the mountains, resolved to decorate the summit with a similar inscription, without fear of the cold that was already chilling their feet, and without thinking that we were already dying of impatience waiting for them.
From the moment that they had left us, we had sought to ward off boredom by means of conversation. Each of us exhausted himself in conjectures regarding the discoveries that our companions were going to make. Everyone forged theories and paradoxes endlessly.
The discussions animated us so much to begin with that the time passed quickly enough without seeming very long to us, but when no one had anything further to say, ennui, impatience, anxiety and dread took possession of us. Three long hours had gone by, and our comrades had not reappeared. Our vision strayed into immense spaces without being able to discover anything.
After having waited for some time longer, Martinet, weary of not perceiving anything, told us that our poor comrades had doubtless been eaten by ferocious animals. At first those words gave us a general frisson, but afterwards, considering that we had only found meager wild beasts at the foot of the iron mountains, it did not seem probable that there would be larger ones in the mountains themselves, where there ought to be no vegetation.
“In any case,” I added, “if they found any, Edward and Clairancy are well armed, and you know their bravery and skill...”
“Alas,” Williams put in, “if we had nothing to fear but bears, and other animals even more terrible, I wouldn’t be trembling in all my limbs, as I am. I’m returning to my first sentiment, that Hell is down there, that our two friends have gone to throw themselves into it head first, and that they’ve fallen into the Devil’s maw—which is, as they say, always open. As for us, if we’re wise, we’ll wait for them for another hour in order to acquit our conscience, for we won’t see them again, and after that, retrace our steps. There’s nothing to gain on the route that Edward and Clairancy wanted to take, and it’s too risky to gamble one’s life…”
“But my dear Williams,” I replied, “how can we go back to Spitzbergen now? Those we left there are dead; we’d perish of cold and starvation on the way. Winter is now in full force on the coast. The wisest thing would be to return to the forest and remain there until the return of the sun. Even so, we’re no longer numerous enough to procure constantly what we need to live. We’d need courage, resignation and patience, and of the four of us, two are always ready to despair...”
“I hope that I’m not the second,” Martinet said, hotly. “I can boast of being completely recovered from my fears, and I’m convinced that he
best thing for me to do henceforth is what the rest of the troop resolves to do. To give you a present proof of my courage, I’m ready to brave Hell and its gates, to climb the mountains in front of us and confront all their perils. I no longer think, like Williams, that Hell is beneath our feet, and if it were, God, who is just, wouldn’t precipitate is unfortunate children into it unless they’ve merited it. Now, what are our crimes?”
Williams was slightly reassured, on examining his conscience, which reproached him for a few frivolities, but worthy of lesser penalties than those of Hell, and expiated in any case by the penances that he did on a daily basis. Tristan sermonized him for his part, and then told us that it was necessary to make an immediate decision.
“I don’t believe,” he said, “that our comrades have found great dangers in their expedition. I think, rather, that they’ve made fortunate discoveries, of which they’ll rejoice in bringing us the news—but, our conjectures not being able to be certain of that, it might be the case that Edward and Clairancy need our help. What regrets would we have if they were doomed through our fault? Let’s advance toward the mountains, then; we’ll climb them with precaution, and when we’re at the summit, we’ll see whether there’s any peril in going further before throwing ourselves into it head first.”
That opinion won our votes. Everyone picked up his weapons. We still had a few provisions left, and we set out to march toward the crown of mountains, following the path that Edward and Clairancy had taken.
As we drew near to the mountain I perceived the two inscriptions engraved on two small iron rocks. I pointed them out to my three companions, and it was easy for us to conceive, by that first discovery, that if Edward and Clairancy had been so late in reappearing, we ought to attribute the cause of it to the time they had taken to erect such monuments.
Voyage to the Center of the Earth Page 7
