Interesting Conversations With Icelandic Savants

: A Journey To The Interior Of The Earth

Dinner was ready. Professor Liedenbrock devoured his portion

voraciously, for his compulsory fast on board had converted his

stomach into a vast unfathomable gulf. There was nothing remarkable

in the meal itself; but the hospitality of our host, more Danish than

Icelandic, reminded me of the heroes of old. It was evident that we

were more at home than he was himself.



The conversation was carried on in the
vernacular tongue, which my

uncle mixed with German and M. Fridrikssen with Latin for my benefit.

It turned upon scientific questions as befits philosophers; but

Professor Liedenbrock was excessively reserved, and at every sentence

spoke to me with his eyes, enjoining the most absolute silence upon

our plans.



In the first place M. Fridrikssen wanted to know what success my

uncle had had at the library.



"Your library! why there is nothing but a few tattered books upon

almost deserted shelves."



"Indeed!" replied M. Fridrikssen, "why we possess eight thousand

volumes, many of them valuable and scarce, works in the old

Scandinavian language, and we have all the novelties that Copenhagen

sends us every year."



"Where do you keep your eight thousand volumes? For my part--"



"Oh, M. Liedenbrock, they are all over the country. In this icy

region we are fond of study. There is not a farmer nor a fisherman

that cannot read and does not read. Our principle is, that books,

instead of growing mouldy behind an iron grating, should be worn out

under the eyes of many readers. Therefore, these volumes are passed

from one to another, read over and over, referred to again and again;

and it often happens that they find their way back to their shelves

only after an absence of a year or two."



"And in the meantime," said my uncle rather spitefully, "strangers--"



"Well, what would you have? Foreigners have their libraries at home,

and the first essential for labouring people is that they should be

educated. I repeat to you the love of reading runs in Icelandic

blood. In 1816 we founded a prosperous literary society; learned

strangers think themselves honoured in becoming members of it. It

publishes books which educate our fellow-countrymen, and do the

country great service. If you will consent to be a corresponding

member, Herr Liedenbrock, you will be giving us great pleasure."



My uncle, who had already joined about a hundred learned societies,

accepted with a grace which evidently touched M. Fridrikssen.



"Now," said he, "will you be kind enough to tell me what books you

hoped to find in our library and I may perhaps enable you to consult

them?"



My uncle's eyes and mine met. He hesitated. This direct question went

to the root of the matter. But after a moment's reflection he decided

on speaking.



"Monsieur Fridrikssen, I wished to know if amongst your ancient books

you possessed any of the works of Arne Saknussemm?"



"Arne Saknussemm!" replied the Rejkiavik professor. "You mean that

learned sixteenth century savant, a naturalist, a chemist, and a

traveller?"



"Just so!"



"One of the glories of Icelandic literature and science?"



"That's the man."



"An illustrious man anywhere!"



"Quite so."



"And whose courage was equal to his genius!"



"I see that you know him well."



My uncle was bathed in delight at hearing his hero thus described. He

feasted his eyes upon M. Fridrikssen's face.



"Well," he cried, "where are his works?"



"His works, we have them not."



"What--not in Iceland?"



"They are neither in Iceland nor anywhere else."



"Why is that?"



"Because Arne Saknussemm was persecuted for heresy, and in 1573 his

books were burned by the hands of the common hangman."



"Very good! Excellent!" cried my uncle, to the great scandal of the

professor of natural history.



"What!" he cried.



"Yes, yes; now it is all clear, now it is all unravelled; and I see

why Saknussemm, put into the Index Expurgatorius, and compelled to

hide the discoveries made by his genius, was obliged to bury in an

incomprehensible cryptogram the secret--"



"What secret?" asked M. Fridrikssen, starting.



"Oh, just a secret which--" my uncle stammered.



"Have you some private document in your possession?" asked our host.



"No; I was only supposing a case."



"Oh, very well," answered M. Fridrikssen, who was kind enough not to

pursue the subject when he had noticed the embarrassment of his

friend. "I hope you will not leave our island until you have seen

some of its mineralogical wealth."



"Certainly," replied my uncle; "but I am rather late; or have not

others been here before me?"



"Yes, Herr Liedenbrock; the labours of MM. Olafsen and Povelsen,

pursued by order of the king, the researches of Troil the scientific

mission of MM. Gaimard and Robert on the French corvette LA

RECHERCHE, [1] and lately the observations of scientific men who

came in the REINE HORTENSE, have added materially to our knowledge

of Iceland. But I assure you there is plenty left."



"Do you think so?" said my uncle, pretending to look very modest, and

trying to hide the curiosity was flashing out of his eyes.



"Oh, yes; how many mountains, glaciers, and volcanoes there are to

study, which are as yet but imperfectly known! Then, without going

any further, that mountain in the horizon. That is Snaefell."



"Ah!" said my uncle, as coolly as he was able, "is that Snaefell?"



"Yes; one of the most curious volcanoes, and the crater of which has

scarcely ever been visited."



"Is it extinct?"



"Oh, yes; more than five hundred years."



"Well," replied my uncle, who was frantically locking his legs

together to keep himself from jumping up in the air, "that is where I

mean to begin my geological studies, there on that Seffel--Fessel--

what do you call it?"



"Snaefell," replied the excellent M. Fridrikssen.



This part of the conversation was in Latin; I had understood every

word of it, and I could hardly conceal my amusement at seeing my

uncle trying to keep down the excitement and satisfaction which were

brimming over in every limb and every feature. He tried hard to put

on an innocent little expression of simplicity; but it looked like a

diabolical grin.



[1] RECHERCHE was sent out in 1835 by Admiral Duperre to learn the

fate of the lost expedition of M. de Blosseville in the LILLOISE

which has never been heard of.



"Yes," said he, "your words decide me. We will try to scale that

Snaefell; perhaps even we may pursue our studies in its crater!"



"I am very sorry," said M. Fridrikssen, "that my engagements will not

allow me to absent myself, or I would have accompanied you myself

with both pleasure and profit."



"Oh, no, no!" replied my uncle with great animation, "we would not

disturb any one for the world, M. Fridrikssen. Still, I thank you

with all my heart: the company of such a talented man would have been

very serviceable, but the duties of your profession--"



I am glad to think that our host, in the innocence of his Icelandic

soul, was blind to the transparent artifices of my uncle.



"I very much approve of your beginning with that volcano, M.

Liedenbrock. You will gather a harvest of interesting observations.

But, tell me, how do you expect to get to the peninsula of Snaefell?"



"By sea, crossing the bay. That's the most direct way."



"No doubt; but it is impossible."



"Why? "



"Because we don't possess a single boat at Rejkiavik."



"You don't mean to say so?"



"You will have to go by land, following the shore. It will be longer,

but more interesting."



"Very well, then; and now I shall have to see about a guide."



"I have one to offer you."



"A safe, intelligent man."



"Yes; an inhabitant of that peninsula He is an eiderdown hunter, and

very clever. He speaks Danish perfectly."



"When can I see him?"



"To-morrow, if you like."



"Why not to-day?"



"Because he won't be here till to-morrow."



"To-morrow, then," added my uncle with a sigh.



This momentous conversation ended in a few minutes with warm

acknowledgments paid by the German to the Icelandic Professor. At

this dinner my uncle had just elicited important facts, amongst

others, the history of Saknussemm, the reason of the mysterious

document, that his host would not accompany him in his expedition,

and that the very next day a guide would be waiting upon him.



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