Journey to the Center of the Earth: Metaphors 4 key examples

Calling Otto Lidenbrock a “well of science,” as Axel does here, implies both his uncle's extensive knowledge and his unwillingness to share it. A more typical water-related way to describe someone who is knowledgeable would be to call them a "fount of knowledge." The word "fount" is an old-fashioned term for "spring" or "fountain." A "fount" of knowledge is a person who provides information easily and abundantly. By contrast, just like drawing water from a deep well requires effort, eliciting knowledge from Lidenbrock is so difficult that it seems pointless. Axel says it's impossible to draw him out without the “grinding noise of the pulleys,” suggesting that great effort is required.

Moreover, Axel’s use of the term “miser” in connection with this well metaphor amplifies the image of Lidenbrock as someone who doesn’t like to share. He treats his intelligence and his experience like a dragon treats its gold, hoarding them as if they were finite resources. This characterization sets the stage for understanding the dynamics between the reluctant Lidenbrock and other characters who might seek to learn from his expertise.

Verne uses two animal metaphors here. With the terms “vixenish” and “shrew,” the pastor’s wife is likened to both a female fox and a shrew: a small, rodent-like creature. Neither of these are complimentary descriptions, and both suggest she is not only unpleasant but also predatory, or even malevolent. The word “vixenish” can sometimes mean "flirtatious," but as it's used here it implies that she's sly and untrustworthy. Before Axel has spoken a single word to her, he decides that she looks silently aggressive, tricky, and mean-spirited. The animal metaphors provide readers with a swift, intuitive understanding of her character as Axel first receives it.

There’s another layer below the surface of these figures of speech, as is the case with many things in this novel. As he uses it here, the idiom “shrew” reinforces and deepens Verne’s unfavorable characterization of this woman. Historically, the term "shrew" was used to describe an outspoken, scolding, or nagging woman. “Shrewish” behavior in women was stereotypically described as being directed towards husbands. The term was in common usage until the mid-20th century and has an extensive history: for example, one of Shakespeare’s plays is called The Taming of the Shrew and revolves around a woman who is seen as undesirable because of her uncouth behavior. In calling the pastor’s wife a “shrew” Axel does more than just suggest she’s mean and argumentative. He also taps into longstanding literary and cultural tropes that dehumanize women by aligning them with animals. The fact that the only three female figures in this novel are either solely good (Gräuben, Martha) or purely unpleasant (this woman) reflects Victorian cultural tropes about women's limited roles.

Personification is centrally at play in this passage. Verne describes the light dying down over Iceland as if it were an action the sun knowingly takes. It is ascribed agency as it performs the human action of "gilding" the land. When something is “gilded,” a thin layer of gold leaf is applied very delicately with glue and a brush. The sun’s action here implies a purposeful, almost tender act of embellishing the island with its light before the party leaves its sight. This personification makes the sun seem benevolent, as if it is intentionally gracing everything above ground with soothing golden illumination one last time.

The metaphor of gilding also has a second implied meaning: when something is gilded, its golden surface is extremely thin and delicate. Gilding just makes things look golden but doesn’t substantially increase their value. The sun can only cover the surface of the island with its “pale rays.” Verne uses the verb “to gild” metaphorically to convey the way the sun's light gives the scene a tranquil, pale beauty. However, it also invokes the fragility of the “gilding” process. In this description, the reader is reminded that the sun can only touch the “outside” of the world. It can’t “gild” what’s under the ground. When they enter Saknussemm’s secret passage, Axel and his friends will pass beyond the thin layer of its reach.

Here, the narrator describes the sea as “a desert,” highlighting the profound stillness and barrenness of the subterranean environment’s calm waters. The term “desert” would usually conjure images of vast, uninhabited, and resource-scarce landscapes. It’s certainly not a word that would conventionally be used to describe a body of water. This oxymoron emphasizes Axel’s sense of despair and disheartenment. Like a desert, the underground sea appears devoid of life and movement, offering no immediate signs of hope or change. There seems to be no visible life around him at all, and the “air is as lonely as the waters."

Seas are usually associated with life, movement, and abundance, and deserts by their apparent stasis and lifelessness. In juxtaposing these conflicting images, the metaphor Verne uses here makes the reader understand the unexpected and disconcerting stillness of the underground sea. It amplifies the sense of alienation and hopelessness Axel experiences. It’s another moment in the novel where the predictable gets turned on its head. The sea is a “desert” because it can’t provide the group with either nourishment or forward motion.