Third Visit--River Hall--Dead Sea--River Styx--Lethe--Echo River--
Purgatory--Eyeless Fish--Supposed Boil of the Rivers--Sources and
Outlet Unknown.
Early the next morning, having made all the necessary preparations for
the grand tour, which we were the more anxious to take from the
glowing accounts of the party recently returned, we entered the cave
immediately after an early breakfast, and proceeded rapidly on to
River Hall. It was evident from the appearance of the flood here, that
it had been recently overflown.
[Illustration: RIVER SCENE.
On Stone by T. Campbell
Bauer & Teschemacher's Lith.]
"The cave, or the River Hall," remarks a fair and distinguished
authoress, whose description of the river scenery is so graphic, that
I cannot do better than transcribe it throughout: "The River Hall
descends like the slope of a mountain; the ceiling stretches
away--away before you, vast and grand as the firmament at midnight."
Going on, and gradually ascending and keeping close to the right hand
wall, you observe on your left "a steep precipice, over which you can
look down by the aid of blazing missiles, upon a broad black sheet of
water, eighty feet below, called the Dead Sea. This is an awfully
impressive place; the sights and sounds of which, do not easily pass
from memory. He who has seen it, will have it vividly brought before
him, by Alfieri's description of Filippo, 'only a transient word or
act gives us a short and dubious glimmer, that reveals to us the
abysses of his being--dark, lurid and terrific, as the throat of the
infernal pool.' Descending from the eminence, by a ladder of about
twenty feet, we find ourselves among piles of gigantic rocks, and one
of the most picturesque sights in the world, is to see a file of men
and women passing along those wild and scraggy paths, moving
slowly--slowly, that their lamps may have time to illuminate their
sky-like ceiling and gigantic walls--disappearing behind high
cliffs--sinking into ravines--their lights shining upwards through
fissures in the rocks--then suddenly emerging from some abrupt angle,
standing in the bright gleam of their lamps, relieved by the towering
black masses around them. He, who could paint the infinite variety of
creation, can alone give an adequate idea of this marvellous region.
As you pass along, you hear the roar of invisible waterfalls; and at
the foot of the slope, the river Styx lies before you, deep and black,
overarched with rock. The first glimpse of it brings to mind, the
descent of Ulysses into hell,
"Where the dark rock o'erhangs the infernal lake,
And mingling streams eternal murmurs make."
Across (or rather down) these unearthly waters, the guide can convey
but four passengers at once. The lamps are fastened to the prow; the
images of which, are reflected in the dismal pool. If you are
impatient of delay, or eager for new adventures, you can leave your
companions lingering about the shore, and cross the Styx by a
dangerous bridge of precipices overhead. In order to do this, you must
ascend a steep cliff, and enter a cave above, 300 yards long, from an
egress of which, you find yourself on the bank of the river, eighty
feet above its surface, commanding a view of those in the boat, and
those waiting on the shore. Seen from this height, the lamps in the
canoe glare like fiery eye-balls; and the passengers, sitting there so
hushed and motionless, look like shadows. The scene is so strangely
funereal and spectral, that it seems as if the Greeks must have
witnessed it, before they imagined Charon conveying ghosts to the dim
regions of Pluto. Your companions thus seen, do indeed--
"Skim along the dusky glades,
Thin airy souls, and visionary shades."
If you turn your eyes from the canoe to the parties of men and women
whom you left waiting on the shore, you will see them by the gleam of
their lamps, scattered in picturesque groups, looming out in bold
relief from the dense darkness around them.
Having passed the Styx, (much the smallest of the rivers,) you walk
over a pile of large rocks, and are on the banks of Lethe; and looking
back, you will see a line of men and women descending the high hill
from the cave, which runs _over_ the river Styx. Here are two boats,
and the parties, which have come by the two routes, _down_ the Styx or
_over_ it, uniting, descend the Lethe about a quarter of a mile, the
ceiling for the entire distance being very high--certainly not less
than fifty feet. On landing, you enter a level and lofty hall, called
the Great Walk, which stretches to the banks of the Echo, a distance
of three or four hundred yards. The Echo is truly a river: it is wide
and deep enough, at all times, to float the largest steamer. At the
point of embarkation, the arch is very low, not more than three feet,
in an ordinary stage of water, being left for a boat to pass through.
Passengers, of course, are obliged to double up, and lie upon each
others shoulders, in a most uncomfortable way, but their suffering is
of short duration; in two boat lengths, they emerge to where the vault
of the cave is lofty and wide. The boat in which we embarked was
sufficiently large to carry twelve persons, and our voyage down the
river was one of deep, indeed of most intense interest. The novelty,
the grandeur, the magnificence of every thing around elicited
unbounded admiration and wonder. All sense of danger, (had any been
experienced before,) was lost in the solemn, quiet sublimity of the
scene. The rippling of the water caused by the motion of our boat is
heard afar off, beating under the low arches and in the cavities of
the rocks. The report of a pistol is as that of the heaviest
artillery, and long and afar does the echo resound, like the muttering
of distant thunder. The voice of song was raised on this dark, deep
water, and the sound was as that of the most powerful choir. A fall
band of music on this river of echoes would indeed be overpowering.
The aquatic excursion was more to our taste than any thing we had
seen, and never can the impression it made be obliterated from our
memories.
The Echo is three quarters of a mile long. A rise of the water of
merely a few feet connects the three rivers. After long and heavy
rains, these rivers sometimes rise to a perpendicular height of more
than fifty feet; and then they, as well as the cataracts, exhibit a
most terrific appearance. The low arch at the entrance of the Echo,
can not be passed when there is a rise of water of even two feet. Once
or twice parties have been caught on the further side by a sudden
rise, and for a time their alarm was great, not knowing that there was
an upper cave through which they could pass, that would lead them
around the arch to the Great Walk. This upper cave, or passage, is
called Purgatory, and is, for a distance of forty feet, so low, that
persons have to crawl on their faces, or, as the guides say, _snake
it_. We were pleased to learn that this passage would soon be
sufficiently enlarged to enable persons to walk through erect. This
accomplished, an excursion to Cleveland's Avenue may be made almost
entirely by land, at the same time that all apprehensions of being
caught beyond Echo will be removed. It is in these rivers, that the
extraordinary white eyeless fish are caught--we secured two of them.
There is not the slightest indication of an organ similar to an eye,
to be discovered. They have been dissected by skillful anatomists, who
declare that they are not only without eyes, but also develope other
anomalies in their organization, singularly interesting to the
naturalist. "The rivers of Mammoth Cave were never crossed till 1840.
Great efforts have been made to discover whence they come and whither
they go, yet they still remain as much a mystery as ever--without
beginning or end; like eternity."
"Darkly thou glidest onward,
Thou deep and hidden wave!
The laughing sunshine hath not look'd
Into thy secret cave.
Thy current makes no music--
A hollow sound we hear;
A muffled voice of mystery,
And know that thou art near.
No brighter line of verdure
Follows thy lonely way
No fairy moss, or lily's cup,
Is freshened by thy play."
According to the barometrical measurement of Professor Locke, the
rivers of the Cave are nearly on a level with Green River; but the
report of Mr. Lee, civil engineer, is widely different. He says, "The
bottom of the Little Bat Room Pit is one hundred and twenty feet
_below_ the bed of Green River. The Bottomless Pit is also deeper than
the bed of Green River, and so far as a surveyor's level can be relied
on, the same may be said of the Cavern Pit and some others." The
rivers of the Cave were unknown at the time of Mr. Lee's visit in
1835, but they are unquestionably _lower_ than the bottom of the pits,
and receive the water which flows from them. According to the
statement of Lee, the bed of these rivers is lower than the bed of
Green River at its junction with the Ohio, taking for granted that the
report of the State engineers as to the extent of fall between a point
above the Cave and the Ohio, be correct, of which there is no doubt.
"It becomes, then," continues Mr. Lee, in reference to the waters of
the Cave, "an object of interesting inquiry to determine in what way
it is disposed of. If it empties into Green River, the Ohio, or the
ocean, it must run a great distance under ground, with a very small
descent."