A Journey To The Center Of The Earth Part 20

This might up to a point explain the existence of this ocean forty leagues beneath the surface of the globe. But in my opinion this liquid ma.s.s had to be gradually disappearing into the bowels of the earth, and it obviously had its origin in the waters of the ocean overhead, which had made their way here through some fissure. Yet it had to be conceded that this fissure was now stopped up, because this entire cavern, or better, this immense reservoir had filled up in a relatively short time. Maybe the water, struggling against the subterranean fire, had even partly evaporated. That would explain the clouds suspended over our heads and the discharge of the electricity that gave rise to tempests in the interior of the earth.

This theory of the phenomena we had witnessed seemed satisfactory to me; for however great the wonders of nature may be, they can always be explained by physical causes.

We were therefore walking on a kind of sedimentary terrain, deposited by water like all the soils of that period, of which there are so many across the globe. The professor examined every fissure in the rock carefully. Wherever an opening showed, it was important to him to probe its depth.br We had walked along the sh.o.r.es of the Lidenbrock Sea for a mile when soil suddenly changed in appearance. It seemed turned upside down, convulsed by a violent upheaval of the lower strata. In many places depressions or elevations testified to a powerful displacement of the earth's substance.

We were moving with difficulty across these cracks of granite mixed with flint, quartz, and alluvial deposits, when a field, more than a field, a plain of bones appeared before our eyes. One would have thought it was an immense graveyard, where the generations of twenty centuries mingled their eternal dust. Tall mounds of residue stretched away into the distance. They undulated to the limits of the horizon and vanished into a hazy mist. Here, in perhaps three square miles, the complete history of animal life was piled up, a history that has hardly yet been written in the too recent strata of the inhabited world.

But an impatient curiosity drove us on. With a dry noise, our feet crushed the remains of these prehistoric animals, fossils over whose rare and interesting residues the museums of great cities fight. A thousand Cuviers would not have been enough to reconstruct the skeletons of the organic beings lying in this magnificent boneyard.

I was stunned. My uncle had lifted his long arms to the ma.s.sive vault that served us as sky. His mouth gaping wide, his eyes flashing behind the gla.s.s of his spectacles, his head moving up and down, from left to right, his whole posture indicated infinite amazement. He stood facing an invaluable collection of leptotheria, mericotheria, lophiodons, anoplotheria, megatheria, mastodons, protopithecae, pterodactyls, of all the prehistoric monsters, piled up for his personal satisfaction. Imagine an enthusiastic bibliophile suddenly transported to the famous library of Alexandria that was burned by Omar, and which by a miracle had been reborn from its ashes! That was my uncle, Professor Lidenbrock.

But it was a very different amazement when, running across this organic dust, he seized a bare skull and shouted with a trembling voice: "Axel! Axel! a human head!"

"A human head!" I exclaimed, no less astonished.

"Yes, nephew. Ah! Mr. Milne-Edwards! Ah! Mr. de Quatref.a.ges,bs I wish you were standing here where I, Otto Lidenbrock, am standing!" I wish you were standing here where I, Otto Lidenbrock, am standing!"

The complete history of animal life was piled up.

x.x.xVIII.

TO UNDERSTAND MY UNCLE'S invocation of these ill.u.s.trious French scholars, one must know that an event of great importance for paleontology had occurred some time before our departure.

On March 28,1863, some excavators working under the direction of Mr. Boucher de Perthes, in the stone quarries of Moulin Quignon, near Abbeville, in the department of the Somme in France, found a human jawbone fourteen feet beneath the surface. It was the first fossil of its kind that had ever been unearthed. Nearby stone hatchets and flint arrow-heads were found, stained and coated with a uniform patina by the ages.8 The repercussions of this discovery were great, not in France alone, but in England and in Germany. Several scholars of the French Inst.i.tute, among others Messrs. Milne-Edwards and de Quatref.a.ges, took the affair very seriously, proved the irrefutable authenticity of the bone in question, and became the most ardent advocates in this 'trial of the jawbone,' as it was called in English.

Geologists of the United Kingdom who considered the fact as certain-Messrs. Falconer, Busk, Carpenter,9 and others-were soon joined by scholars from Germany, and among them, in the first rank, the most energetic, the most enthusiastic, was my uncle Lidenbrock. and others-were soon joined by scholars from Germany, and among them, in the first rank, the most energetic, the most enthusiastic, was my uncle Lidenbrock.

The authenticity of a human fossil from the Quaternary epochbt therefore seemed to be irrefutably proven and admitted. therefore seemed to be irrefutably proven and admitted.

This theory, to be sure, encountered a most obstinate opponent in Mr. elie de Beaumont.bu This scholar, a great authority, maintained that the soil of Moulin Quignon did not belong to the "diluvium" but to a more recent layer and, agreeing with Cuvier, he refused to admit that the human species had been contemporary with the animals of the Quaternary epoch. My uncle Lidenbrock, in agreement with the great majority of geologists, had stood his ground, disputed, and argued, until Mr. elie de Beaumont had remained almost alone on his side. This scholar, a great authority, maintained that the soil of Moulin Quignon did not belong to the "diluvium" but to a more recent layer and, agreeing with Cuvier, he refused to admit that the human species had been contemporary with the animals of the Quaternary epoch. My uncle Lidenbrock, in agreement with the great majority of geologists, had stood his ground, disputed, and argued, until Mr. elie de Beaumont had remained almost alone on his side.

We knew all the details of this affair, but we were not aware that since our departure the question had made further progress. Other identical jawbones, though they belonged to individuals of various types and different nations, were found in the loose grey soil of certain caves in France, Switzerland, and Belgium, along with weapons, utensils, tools, bones of children, adolescents, adults and old people. The existence of Quaternary man was therefore receiving more confirmation every day.

And that was not all. New remains exhumed from Tertiary Pliocene soil had allowed even bolder geologists to attribute an even greater age to the human race. These remains, to be sure, were not human bones, but products of his industry that carried the mark of human work, such as shin and thigh bones of fossil animals with regular grooves, sculpted as it were.

Thus, with one leap, man moved back on the time scale by many centuries. He preceded the mastodon; he was a contemporary of elephas meridionalis; elephas meridionalis;bv he lived a hundred thousand years ago, since that is the date that the most famous geologists give for the formation of Pliocene soil. he lived a hundred thousand years ago, since that is the date that the most famous geologists give for the formation of Pliocene soil.

Such, then, was the state of paleontological science, and what we knew of it was enough to explain our att.i.tude toward this boneyard on the Lidenbrock Sea. It is therefore easy to understand my uncle's amazement and joy when, twenty yards further on, he found himself in the presence of, one might say face to face with, a specimen of Quaternary man.

It was a perfectly recognizable human body. Had some special kind of soil, like that of the St. Michel cemetery in Bordeaux, preserved it like this over the centuries? I do not know. But this corpse, with its tight, parchment-like skin, its limbs still soft-at least on sight-intact teeth, abundant hair, frighteningly long finger and toe nails, presented itself to our eyes just as it was when it had been alive.

I was speechless when faced with this apparition of another age. My uncle, usually a talkative and impetuous speaker, also kept silent. We had lifted the body. We had raised it up. It looked at us with its empty eye-sockets. We touched its resonant torso.

After a few moments of silence, the uncle was overcome by Professor Otto Lidenbrock again who, carried away by his temperament, forgot the circ.u.mstances of our journey, the place where we were, the enormous cave that surrounded us. No doubt he thought he was at the Johanneum, lecturing to his students, for he a.s.sumed a learned voice and addressed an imaginary audience: "Gentlemen," he said, "I have the honor of introducing a man of the Quaternary period to you. Eminent scholars have denied his existence, others no less eminent have affirmed it. The St. Thomases of paleontology, if they were here, would touch him with their fingers, and would be forced to acknowledge their error. I am quite aware that science has to be on its guard with discoveries of this kind. I know how Barnum and other charlatans of the same ilk have exploited fossil men.bw I know the story of Ajax' kneecap, the alleged body of Orestes found by the Spartans, and of the ten-cubit tall body of Asterius mentioned by Pausanias. I've read the reports on the skeleton of Trapani, discovered in the fourteenth century, which was at the time identified as that of Polyphemus, and the history of the giant unearthed in the sixteenth century near Palermo. You know as well as I do, gentlemen, the a.n.a.lysis of large bones carried out at Lucerne in 1577, which the famous Dr. Felix Plater declared to be those of a nineteen-foot tall giant. I have devoured the treatises of Ca.s.sanion, and all those dissertations, pamphlets, speeches, and rejoinders published respecting the skeleton of Teutobochus, king of the Cimbrians and invader of Gaul, dug out of a sandpit in the Dauphine in 1613! In the eighteenth century I would have fought with Pierre Campet against the pre-adamites of Scheuchzer. I know the story of Ajax' kneecap, the alleged body of Orestes found by the Spartans, and of the ten-cubit tall body of Asterius mentioned by Pausanias. I've read the reports on the skeleton of Trapani, discovered in the fourteenth century, which was at the time identified as that of Polyphemus, and the history of the giant unearthed in the sixteenth century near Palermo. You know as well as I do, gentlemen, the a.n.a.lysis of large bones carried out at Lucerne in 1577, which the famous Dr. Felix Plater declared to be those of a nineteen-foot tall giant. I have devoured the treatises of Ca.s.sanion, and all those dissertations, pamphlets, speeches, and rejoinders published respecting the skeleton of Teutobochus, king of the Cimbrians and invader of Gaul, dug out of a sandpit in the Dauphine in 1613! In the eighteenth century I would have fought with Pierre Campet against the pre-adamites of Scheuchzer.10 In my hands I have a text called Gigan-" In my hands I have a text called Gigan-"

Here my uncle's natural weakness re-emerged, that of being unable to p.r.o.nounce difficult words in public.

"The text called Gigan-" Gigan-"

He could go no further.

"Giganteo-"

Impossible! The unfortunate word would not come out!

They would have had a good laugh at the Johanneum! "Gigantosteology" "Gigantosteology" the professor finally managed to say, between two swearwords. the professor finally managed to say, between two swearwords.

Then he continued with renewed energy and spirits: "Yes, gentlemen, I know all these things! I also know that Cuvier and Blumenbach have identified these bones as simple bones of mammoths and other animals of the Quaternary period. But in this case doubt would be an insult to science! The corpse is here! You can see it, touch it. It's not a skeleton, it's an intact body, preserved for a purely anthropological purpose!"

I took care not to contradict this a.s.sertion.

"If I could wash it in a solution of sulphuric acid," pursued my uncle, "I would be able to remove all the bits of soil and the splendid sh.e.l.ls that are embedded in it. But I do not have this precious solvent at hand. Yet, such as it is, the body will tell us its own story."

Here the professor took the fossil corpse and handled it with the skill of a showman.

"You see," he resumed, "that it's not even six feet tall, and we are far removed from the alleged giants. As for the race to which it belongs, it is obviously Caucasian. It's the white race, our own! The skull of this fossil is a regular oval, with no prominent cheekbones, no projecting jaws. It shows no sign of the prognathism that diminishes the facial angle.bx Measure that angle, it's nearly ninety degrees. But I'll go even further in my deductions, and I dare say that this human specimen belongs to the j.a.phetic family, which extends from India to the boundaries of western Europe. Don't smile, gentlemen." Measure that angle, it's nearly ninety degrees. But I'll go even further in my deductions, and I dare say that this human specimen belongs to the j.a.phetic family, which extends from India to the boundaries of western Europe. Don't smile, gentlemen."

n.o.body was smiling, but the professor was used to seeing faces spread in smiles during his learned lectures.

"Yes," he pursued with new energy, "this is a fossil man, a contemporary of the mastodons whose bones fill this amphitheatre. But if you ask me how he came here, how the layers in which he was buried slid into this enormous cavern in the earth, I will not allow myself to answer. No doubt in the Quaternary period considerable upheavals still took place in the earth's crust. The gradual cooling of the globe created cracks, fissures and faults, into which some of the upper soil probably fell. I want to make no a.s.sertions, but after all the man is here, surrounded by the work of his hands, by the hatchets and the flint arrow-heads that made the Stone Age possible, and unless he came here as a tourist and a pioneer of science like myself, I cannot doubt the authenticity of his ancient origin."

The professor fell silent, and I broke into unanimous applause. In any case my uncle was right, and more learned men than his nephew would have had trouble arguing with him.

Another clue. This fossilized body was not the only one in the immense boneyard. We found other corpses at every step we took in this dust, and my uncle could choose the most wonderful of these specimens to convince the skeptics.

Indeed it was an amazing spectacle, these generations of men and animals commingled in this cemetery. But one serious question arose that we dared not answer. Had these beings slid down to the sh.o.r.e of the Lidenbrock Sea through an upheaval in the ground when they were already reduced to dust? Or did they rather dwell in this underground world, under this artificial sky, living and dying like the inhabitants of the earth? Until now, only sea monsters and fishes had appeared to us alive! Did some man of the abyss still wander on this desert strand?

x.x.xIX.

FOR ANOTHER HALF HOUR our feet trod on these layers of bones. We pushed on, driven by a burning curiosity. What other marvels, what new treasures for science did this cavern hold? My eyes were prepared for any surprise, my imagination for any amazement.

The sh.o.r.e had long disappeared behind the hills of bones. The rash professor, unconcerned about losing his way, took me along. We advanced in silence, bathed in electric waves. Due to some phenomenon that I cannot explain, and due to its by then complete diffusion, the light illuminated all the sides of an object equally. Its source no longer resided at a particular point in s.p.a.ce and cast no shadows. One could have believed that it was midday in the middle of the summer, in the equatorial regions under the vertical rays of the sun. All steam had disappeared.

The rocks, the distant mountains, a few indistinct clumps of distant forests came to look strange in this equal distribution of the light waves. We resembled Hoffmann's fantastic character who has lost his shadow.11 After a mile's walk the edge of an immense forest appeared, but no longer one of the mushroom forests near Port Grauben.

It was the vegetation of the Tertiary period in all its magnificence. Tall palm trees of species that have now disappeared, superb palmaceae, pines, yews, cypress, and thujas represented the conifer family, and were linked to each other through a network of inextricable lianas. A lush carpet of moss and hepaticas covered the soil. Some creeks murmured in the shade, which did not deserve the name since the trees cast no shadow. On their banks grew tree-ferns similar to those grown in hothouses on the inhabited earth. Only color was missing from all those trees, shrubs, and plants that were deprived of the life-giving heat of the sun. Everything blended together in a uniform brownish and faded-looking hue. The leaves showed no green, and even the flowers, which were so numerous in the Tertiary period in which they first originated, now had no color or scent and looked under the impact of the atmosphere as if they were made out of faded paper.

My uncle Lidenbrock ventured into this gigantic thicket. I followed him, not without a certain fear. Since nature had here provided plant food, why would there not also be fearsome mammals? In the large clearings left by fallen and decayed trees, I saw leguminous plants, acerineae, rubiceae and many other edible shrubs that are liked by ruminants of all periods. Then trees from vastly different regions on the surface of the globe appeared, blended and mixed in together: the oak grew next to the palm tree, the Australian eucalyptus leaned against the Norwegian fir, the Northern birch-tree interlaced its branches with those of the New Zealand kauri. It was enough to drive the most ingenious cla.s.sifiers of terrestrial botany mad.

Suddenly I stopped. With my hand I held my uncle back.

The diffuse light allowed us to perceive the most minute objects in the depth of the thicket. I thought I had seen ... No! really, with my own eyes, I did see vast shapes moving under the trees! Indeed, these were gigantic animals, a whole herd of mastodons, not fossil ones, but live ones, similar to those whose remains were found in the swamps of Ohio in 1801! I saw these large elephants whose trunks were writhing under the trees like a legion of snakes. I heard the noise of their long tusks whose ivory bore into the old tree trunks. The branches cracked, and the leaves, torn off in considerable quant.i.ties, were swept into the huge maws of these monsters.

So the dream in which I had seen all this prehistoric world of the Tertiary and Quaternary periods rise again finally became reality! And we were there, alone, in the bowels of the earth, at the mercy of its fierce inhabitants!

My uncle stared.

"Let's go!" he said suddenly, gripping my arm. "Onward! Onward!"

"No!" I cried. "No! We have no weapons! What would we do in the midst of this herd of giant quadrupeds? Come, Uncle, come! No human can safely challenge the rage of these monsters."

"No human being!" replied my uncle, lowering his voice. "You're wrong, Axel. Look, look down there! It seems to me I see a living being! a being similar to ourselves! a man!"

I looked, shrugging my shoulders, and resolved to push skepticism to its furthest limits. But although I was reluctant, I had to yield to the evidence.

Indeed, less than a quarter of a mile away, leaning against the trunk of an enormous kauri, a human being, the Proteus of these underground regions, a new son of Neptune,by watched over this countless herd of mastodons! watched over this countless herd of mastodons!

Immanis pecoris custos, immanior ipse.bz

Yes! Immanior ipse Immanior ipse! This was no longer the fossil being whose corpse we had raised up in the boneyard, this was a giant, able to control these monsters. He was more than twelve feet tall. His head, huge like a buffalo's, disappeared in the underbrush of his unkempt hair. It seemed like a real mane similar to that of the elephant of the first ages. In his hand he wielded an enormous branch with ease, a crook worthy of this prehistoric shepherd.

We stood immobile, stunned. But we might be seen. We had to flee.

"Come, come!" I exclaimed, pulling my uncle away, who for the first time let it happen.

A quarter of an hour later we were out of sight of this formidable enemy.

And now that I think about it calmly, now that my spirit has found peace again, now that months have gone by since this strange and supernatural encounter, what to think, what to believe? No! It is impossible! Our senses were deceived, our eyes did not see what they saw! No human being exists in that subterranean world! No generation of men dwells in those lower caverns of the globe, unconcerned about the inhabitants of its surface, without contact with them! It is crazy, profoundly crazy!

I prefer to admit the existence of some animal whose structure resembles the human structure, some ape of the early geological ages, some protopithecus, some mesopithecus, like the one discovered by Mr. Lartet in the bone deposit of Sansan!ca But in its size, this one exceeded all the measurements known in modern paleontology. But in its size, this one exceeded all the measurements known in modern paleontology.

A human being watched over this countless herd of mastodons!

No matter! An ape, yes, an ape, no matter how unlikely! But a man, a living man, and with him a whole generation buried in the bowels of the earth! Never!

In the meantime, we had left the clear and luminous forest, speechless with amazement, overwhelmed by a stupefaction that bordered on mindlessness. We ran in spite of ourselves. It was a real flight, similar to those terrible impulses that one is subject to in certain night-mares. Instinctively we ran back to the Lidenbrock Sea, and I do not know in what vagaries my mind would have lost itself if it had not been for a concern that brought me back to practical matters.cb Although I was certain that we were walking on soil where we had never set foot before, I often noticed rock formations whose shape reminded me of those at Port Grauben. This confirmed, in any case, the indications of the compa.s.s and our involuntary return to the north of the Lidenbrock Sea. Sometimes one could have mistaken one for the other. Brooks and waterfalls were tumbling everywhere from hundreds of projections in the rocks. I thought I recognized the layer of surturbrand, our faithful Hansbach and the cave in which I had come back to life. Then a few paces farther on, the arrangement of the cliffs, the appearance of a stream, the surprising outline of a rock threw me back in doubt.

I told my uncle about my indecision. Like myself, he hesitated. He could not find his way in this uniform scenery.

"Obviously," I said to him, "we have not landed at our point of departure again, but the storm has carried us a little lower, and if we follow the sh.o.r.e we'll find Port Grauben."

"In that case," replied my uncle, "it's useless to continue this exploration, and the best is to return to our raft. But Axel, aren't you mistaken?"

"It's difficult to say for sure, Uncle, because all these rocks look alike. Yet I think I recognize the promontory at whose foot Hans built our vessel. We must be close to the little port, if indeed it isn't right here," I added, examining an inlet that I thought I recognized.

"No, Axel, we would at least find our own traces, and I see nothing..."

"But I do," I exclaimed, rushing toward an object that glittered in the sand.

"What is it?"

"This," I answered.

And I showed my uncle a rust-covered dagger which I had just picked up.

"Well!" he said, "did you bring this weapon with you?"

"Me? Not at all! But you ..."

"No, not that I know," said the professor. "I've never had this object in my possession."

"Well, this is strange!"

"No, Axel, it's very simple. Icelanders often have weapons of this kind, and Hans, to whom this belongs, must have lost it..."

I shook my head. Hans had never had this dagger in his possession.

"So is this the weapon of some prehistoric warrior?" I exclaimed, "of a living man, of a contemporary of that gigantic shepherd's? But no! This is not a tool of the Stone Age! Not even of the Bronze Age! This blade is made of steel..."

My uncle stopped me abruptly on this path into another ramble, and told me in his cold voice: "Calm down, Axel, and be reasonable. This dagger is a weapon of the sixteenth century, a real dagger, like the ones gentlemen carried in their belts to give the coup de grace. coup de grace. It's of Spanish origin. It belongs neither to you, nor to me, nor to the hunter, nor even to the human beings who live perhaps in the bowels of the globe!" It's of Spanish origin. It belongs neither to you, nor to me, nor to the hunter, nor even to the human beings who live perhaps in the bowels of the globe!"

"What are you saying ... ?"

"Look, it never got chipped like this by cutting men's throats; its blade is coated with a layer of rust that's neither a day, nor a year, nor a hundred years old!"

The professor was getting excited according to his habit, and was getting carried away by his imagination.

"Axel," he resumed, "we're on the way toward a great discovery! This blade has been lying on the sand for a hundred, two hundred, three hundred years, and it got chipped on the rocks of this underground ocean!"

"But it hasn't come on its own," I cried. "It hasn't twisted itself out of shape! Someone has been here before us!"

"Yes! a man."

"And who was that man?"