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Journey to the Center of the Earth
Chapter 2. THE MYSTERIOUS PARCHMENT
"I declare," shouted my uncle, hitting the table hard with his fist.
"I declare to you it's 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, and at once sat down to write as he directed.
"I'll substitute," he said, "a letter of our alphabet for that of the Runic. We'll then see what that'll produce. Now begin and make no mistakes."
The dictation began with the following incomprehensible result,
mm.rnlls esruel 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 pause.
I certainly couldn't tell him, nor did he expect me to.
His talk was almost always answered by himself.
"I declare it puts me in mind of a cryptograph,"
He cried, "Unless, indeed, the letters were written without any real meaning."
"He added, "And yet why take so much trouble? Who knows but I may be on the verge of some great discovery?
My honest opinion was that it was all rubbish.
But I kept that opinion to myself, for my uncle's temper wasn't pleasant to face.
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 a much later date than the book, and I have undoubted proof of my idea."
He said, "The first letter is a double M, added to the Icelandic language in the twelfth century."
"He said, "This makes the parchment two hundred years later than the volume.
The facts seemed likely and very logical, but to me it was only a guess.
"To me it seems likely 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 strong magnifying glass, examined the book carefully.
On the fly leaf was a blot of ink, but on closer look it proved a line of writing nearly erased.
This was what he wanted, and after some time he made out these letters,
"Arne Saknussemm!" he cried in a joyful and triumphant tone, "that isn't 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 went on, "Avicenna, Bacon, Lully, Paracelsus, were the true, the only learned men of the day."
"May not this Saknussemm, nephew mine, have hidden some astounding invention on this parchment?" he said, "I must find the cryptograph's deep meaning".
My uncle walked about the room in a state of excitement that was almost impossible to describe.
"It may be so, sir," I timidly observed, "but why hide it from future generations if it's a useful, a worthy discovery?"
"Why, how should I know?"
"Didn't Galileo keep secret his discoveries about Saturn?"
"But we'll see."
"Until I discover the meaning of this sentence I'll 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 went on, "there must be a clue to the meaning. If we could find that, the rest would be easy enough."
I began to think seriously about the puzzling sentence and our next steps.
The idea of going without food and sleep wasn't promising, so I decided to do my best to solve the mystery.
My uncle, meanwhile, went on with his monologue.
"The way to discover it's 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 are much richer in consonants."
"We may therefore predict, with confidence, that we have to deal with a southern dialect."
Nothing could be more logical, I thought, as he spoke with great conviction.
"Now," said Professor Hardwigg, "to trace the particular language."
"As Shakespeare says, 'that's the question,'" was my rather satirical reply.
"This man Saknussemm,"
He continued, "This man Saknussemm was a very learned man."
"Now, as he didn't write in his birthplace language, he probably wrote in Latin like learned men of the sixteenth century."
"If I am wrong, we must try Spanish, French, Italian, Greek, and even Hebrew, but my opinion favors Latin".
This idea surprised me, for Latin had always been my favorite subject at school.
Latin was my favorite study, and it seemed almost an offense to think this gibberish belonged to the country of Virgil.
"Barbarous Latin, in all probability," my uncle added, "but still Latin."
"Very probably," I replied, not to argue with him.
"Let us see into the matter," my uncle continued.
"Here you see we have a series of one hundred and thirty-two letters, apparently thrown pell-mell onto paper, without method or organization."
"There are words made only of consonants, such as mm.rnlls, others nearly all vowels, the fifth, for instance, which is unteief, and one of the last oseibo."
"This seems an extraordinary combination."
"Probably we'll 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's that figure?"
I could give him no hint, My thoughts were far away.
While he spoke I had seen the portrait of my cousin Gretchen and was wondering when she'd return.
We were engaged, and loved one another very sincerely.
But my uncle, who never thought even of such earthly matters, knew nothing of this.
Without noticing my distraction, the Professor began reading the puzzling cryptograph all sorts of ways, following 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. the letters looked jumbled and faint from age and long use.
I could hardly keep from laughing, while my uncle, on the contrary, flew into a towering passion.
He struck the table with his fist, ran out of the room and out of the house.
Then took to his heels and was soon lost to sight.