In presence of Nature's grand convulsions, man is powerless.

Jules Verne, the dreamer who charted voyages beneath the seas and among the stars, once wrote with solemnity: “In presence of Nature’s grand convulsions, man is powerless.” These words strike with the force of thunder upon the soul, for they remind us of the eternal truth: that though mankind may conquer mountains, bridge rivers, and sail across oceans, he remains but a fragile being when confronted with the unleashed fury of nature. The greatest inventions tremble before the earthquake, the storm, the fire, and the flood.

The meaning of Verne’s words lies in the balance between human pride and cosmic humility. Man, intoxicated by progress, often imagines himself master of the earth. He drills into her depths, carves through her forests, and sails across her waters as though they belong to him. Yet when convulsions arise — when the ground shakes, when the seas rise, when volcanoes roar — all such illusions dissolve. In those moments, humanity sees itself as it truly is: small, vulnerable, and utterly dependent on forces it cannot command.

The origin of Verne’s insight can be found in his era of exploration and discovery, when steam and steel gave man the illusion of invincibility. Yet even as locomotives crossed continents and ships braved new horizons, disasters reminded mankind of his limits. Storms could still sink the proudest vessels, and eruptions could bury whole cities. Verne, in his novels, often placed his characters in these very moments — not to mock their ambition, but to show that true wisdom comes from respecting the might of nature.

History itself offers sobering examples. In 1883, the eruption of Krakatoa shook the world, its explosion heard thousands of miles away, its ash blotting out the sun. Villages were swept away by tsunamis, and the climate of the whole earth was altered. All of man’s weapons, armies, and machines could do nothing before this convulsion. Another memory is the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, which destroyed one of Europe’s great cities in a single day, toppling palaces and churches alike, reminding rich and poor that all stand equal before the wrath of the earth.

Yet these convulsions do not only terrify — they also teach. They strip away arrogance and remind us of the sacred law of humility. They whisper that man is not master but guest upon the earth, not owner but steward. In knowing his powerlessness, he may discover wisdom: to live in reverence toward nature, to respect her rhythms, to prepare for her storms, and to align his life with her cycles rather than resisting them blindly.

The lesson for future generations is profound: seek harmony with nature, not domination. Build wisely, plant humbly, and always prepare for the unexpected. Do not mock the earthquake by building without care, nor taunt the sea by polluting her waters, nor anger the sky by ignoring the balance of the earth’s climate. For when grand convulsions come, man’s machines will falter, but those who have lived with reverence may endure.

Practical action must follow. Study the land you live upon, and know its dangers; honor the waters and forests, for they are your shield as well as your sustenance. Teach your children not only the greatness of human invention but also the limits of human power. And when calamity strikes, do not despair, but remember that survival belongs not to the proud but to the wise, who adapt, endure, and rebuild.

Thus, Jules Verne’s words resound like a timeless bell across the ages: man is powerless in the presence of nature’s convulsions. Yet in this powerlessness lies a hidden strength — the chance to learn humility, to grow in wisdom, and to live not as tyrant of the earth but as her child. For the one who honors the might of nature may find not fear, but harmony, and in that harmony, the true measure of human greatness.