Pass of El Ghor--Silliman's Avenue--Wellington's Gallery--Sulphur
Spring--Mary's Vineyard--Holy Sepulchre--Commencement of Cleveland
Avenue--By whom Discovered--Beautiful Formations--Snow-ball Room--
Rocky Mountains--Croghan's Hall--Serena's Arbor--Dining Table--
Dinner Party and Toast--Hoax of the Guide--Homeward Bound Passage--
Conclusion.
Having now left the Echo, we have a walk of four miles to Cleveland's
Avenue. The intervening points are of great interest; but it would
occupy too much time to describe them. We will therefore hurry on
through the pass of El Ghor, Silliman's Avenue, and Wellington's
Gallery, to the foot of the ladder which leads up to the Elysium of
Mammoth cave. And here, for the benefit of the weary and thirsty, and
of all others whom it may interest, coming after us, be it known, that
Carneal's Spring is close at hand, and equally near, a sulphur spring,
the water of which, equals in quality and quantity that of the
far-famed White Sulphur Spring, of Virginia. At the head of the
ladder, you find yourself surrounded by overhanging stalactites, in
the form of rich clusters of grapes, hard as flint, and round and
polished, as if done by a sculptor's hand. This is called Mary's
Vineyard--the commencement of Cleveland's Avenue, the crowning wonder
and glory of this subterranean world. Proceeding to the right about, a
hundred feet from this spot, over a rough and rather difficult way,
you reach the base of the height or hill, on which, stands the Holy
Sepulchre. This interesting spot is reached at some hazard, as the
ascent, which is very steep, and more than twenty feet high, affords
no secure footing, owing to the loose and shingly character of the
surface, until the height is gained. Having achieved this, you stand
immediately at the beautiful door-way of the Chapel, or anteroom of
the Sepulchre. This Chapel, which is, perhaps, twelve feet square,
with a low ceiling, and decorated in the most gorgeous manner, with
well-arranged draperies of stalactite of every imaginable shape, leads
you to the room of the Holy Sepulchre adjoining, which is without
ornament or decoration of any kind; exhibiting nothing but dark and
bare walls--like a charnel house. In the centre of this room, which
stands a few feet below the Chapel, is, to all appearance, a grave,
hewn out of the living rock. This is the Holy Sepulchre. A Roman
Catholic priest discovered it about three years ago, and with fervent
enthusiasm exclaimed, "The Holy Sepulchre!" a name which it has since
borne. Returning from the Holy Sepulchre, we commence our wanderings
through Cleveland's Avenue--an avenue three miles long, seventy feet
wide, and twelve or fifteen feet high--an avenue more rich and
gorgeous than any ever revealed to man--an avenue abounding in
formations such as are no where else to be seen, and which the most
stupid observer could not behold without feelings of wonder and
admiration. Some of the formations in the avenue, have been
denominated by Professor Locke, oulophilites, or curled leafed stone;
and in remarking upon them, he says, "They are unlike any thing yet
discovered; equally beautiful for the cabinet of the amateur, and
interesting to the geological philosopher." And I, although a wanderer
myself in various climes, and somewhat of a mineralogist withal, have
never seen or heard of such. Apprehensive that I might, in attempting
to describe much that I have seen, color too highly, I will, in lieu
thereof, offer the remarks of an intelligent clergyman, extracted from
the New York Christian Observer, of a recent date: "The most
imaginative poet never conceived or painted a palace of such exquisite
beauty and loveliness, as Cleveland's Cabinet, into which you now
pass. Were the wealth of princes bestowed on the most skilful
lapidaries, with the view of rivaling the splendors of this single
chamber, the attempt would be vain. How then can I hope to give you a
conception of it? You must see it; and you will then feel that all
attempt at description, is futile." The Cabinet was discovered by Mr.
Patten, of Louisville, and Mr. Craig, of Philadelphia, accompanied by
the guide Stephen, and extends in nearly a direct line about one and a
half miles, (the guides say two miles.) It is a perfect arch, of fifty
feet span, and of an average height of ten feet in the centre--just
high enough to be viewed with ease in all its parts. It is incrusted
from end to end with the most beautiful formations, in every variety
of form. The base of the whole, is carbonate (sulphate) of lime, in
part of dazzling whiteness, and perfectly smooth, and in other places
crystallized so as to glitter like diamonds in the light. Growing from
this, in endlessly diversified forms, is a substance resembling
selenite, translucent and imperfectly laminated. It is most probably
sulphate of lime, (a gypsum,) combined with sulphate of magnesia. Some
of the crystals bear a striking resemblance to branches of celery, and
all about the same length; while others, a foot or more in length,
have the color and appearance of _vanilla cream candy_; others are set
in sulphate of lime, in the form of a rose; and others still roll out
from the base, in forms resembling the ornaments on the capitol of a
Corinthian column. (You see how I am driven for analogies.) Some of
the incrustations are massive and splendid; others are as delicate as
the lily, or as fancy-work of shell or wax. Think of traversing an
arched way like this for a mile and a half, and all the wonders of the
tales of youth--"Arabian Nights," and all--seem tame, compared with
the living, growing reality. Yes, _growing_ reality; for the process
is going on before your eyes. Successive coats of these incrustations,
have been perfected and crowded off by others; so that hundreds of
tons of these gems lie at your feet, and are crushed as you pass,
while the work of restoring the ornaments for nature's _boudoir_, is
proceeding around you. Here and there, through the whole extent, you
will find openings in the sides, into which you may thrust the person,
and often stand erect in little grottoes, perfectly incrusted with a
delicate white substance, reflecting the light from a thousand
glittering points. All the way you might have heard us exclaiming,
"Wonderful, wonderful! O, Lord, how manifold are thy works!" With
general unity of form and appearance, there is considerable variety in
"the Cabinet." The "_Snow-ball Room_," for example, is a section of
the cave described above, some 200 feet in length, entirely different
from the adjacent parts; its appearance being aptly indicated by its
name. If a hundred rude school boys had but an hour before completed
their day's sport, by throwing a thousand snow-balls against the roof,
while an equal number were scattered about the floor, and all
petrified, it would have presented precisely such a scene as you
witness in this room of nature's frolics. So far as I know, these
"snow-balls" are a perfect anomaly among all the strange forms of
crystalization. It is the result, I presume, of an unusual combination
of the sulphates of lime and magnesia, with a carbonate of the former.
We found here and elsewhere in the Cabinet, fine specimens of the
sulphate of Magnesia, (or Epsom salts,) a foot or two long, and three
inches in thickness.
Leaving the quiet and beautiful "Cabinet," you come suddenly upon the
"Rocky Mountains," furnishing a contrast so bold and striking, as
almost to startle you. Clambering up the rough side some thirty feet,
you pass close under the roof of the cavern you have left, and find
before you an immense transverse cave, 100 feet or more from the
ceiling to the floor, with a huge pile of rocks half filling the
hither side--they were probably dashed from the roof in the great
earthquake of 1811. Taking the left hand branch, you are soon brought
to "Croghan's Hall," which is nine miles from the mouth, and is the
farthest point explored in that direction. The "Hall" is 50 or 60 feet
in diameter, and perhaps, thirty-five feet high, of a semi-circular
form. Fronting you as you enter, are massive stalactites, ten or
fifteen feet in length, attached to the rock, like sheets of ice, and
of a brilliant color. The rock projects near the floor, and then
recedes with a regular and graceful curve, or swell, leaving a cavity
of several feet in width between it and the floor. At intervals,
around this swell, stalactites of various forms are suspended, and
behind the sheet of stalactites first described, are numerous
stalagmites, in fanciful forms. I brought one away that resembles the
horns of the deer, being nearly translucent. In the centre of this
hall, a very large stalactite hangs from the roof; and a corresponding
stalagmite rises from the floor, about three feet in height and a foot
in diameter, of an amber color, perfectly smooth and translucent, like
the other formations. On the right, is a deep pit, down which the
water dashes from a cascade that pours from the roof. Other avenues
could most likely be found by sounding the sides of the pit, if any
one had the courage to attempt the descent. We are far enough from
_terra supra_, and our dinner which we had left at the "Vineyard." We
hastened back to the Rocky Mountains, and took the branch which we
left at our right on emerging from the Cabinet. Pursuing the uneven
path for some distance, we reached "Serena's Arbor," which was
discovered but three months since, by our guide "Mat." The descent to
the Arbor seemed so perilous, from the position of the loose rocks
around, that several of the party would not venture. Those of us who
scrambled down regarded this as the crowning object of interest. The
"Arbor" is not more than twelve feet in diameter, and of about the
same height, of a circular form; but is, of itself, floor, sides,
roof, and ornaments, one perfect, seamless stalactite, of a beautiful
hue, and exquisite workmanship. Folds or blades of stalactitic matter
hang like drapery around the sides, reaching half way to the floor;
and opposite the door, a canopy of stone projects, elegantly
ornamented, as if it were the resting-place of a fairy bride. Every
thing seemed fresh and new; indeed, the invisible architect has not
quite finished this master-piece; for you can see the pure water,
trickling down its tiny channels and perfecting the delicate points of
some of the stalactites. Victoria, with all her splendor, has not in
Windsor Castle, so beautiful an apartment as "Serena's Arbor."
Such is the description of Cleveland's Avenue, as given by this
clerical gentleman. It is perfectly graphic, and corresponds with all
the glowing accounts I have read of this famous place. Exquisitely
beautiful and rare as are the formations in this avenue, it will soon
be, I fear, like the Grotto of Pensico--shorn of its beauties. Many a
little Miss, to decorate her centre table or boudoir, and many a
thoughtless dandy to present a specimen to his lady fair, have broken
from the walls (regardless of the published rules prohibiting it,)
those lovely productions of the Almighty, which required ages to
perfect; thus destroying in a moment the work of centuries. These
beautiful and gorgeous formations were encrusted on the walls by the
hands of our Maker, and who so impious as to desecrate them--to tear
them from their place? there they are, all lovely and beautiful, and
there they ought to remain, _untouched_ by the hands of man, for the
admiration and wonder of all future ages. If the comparatively small
cave of Adelburg which belongs to the Emperor of Austria, be placed
for the preservation of its formations under the protecting care of
the government [Transcriber's note: sic] (as is the case,) what ought
not to be done to preserve the mineralogical treasures, in this great
Cave of America, and especially in Cleveland's Cabinet, which are
worth more than all the caves in Europe, indeed of the world, so far
as our knowledge of caverns extends.
Returning from Serena's Arbor, we passed on our left the mouth of an
avenue more than three miles long, lofty and wide, and at its
termination there is a hall, which in the opinion of the guide is
larger than any other in the Cave. It is as yet without a name.
Equidistant from the commencement and the termination of Cleveland's
Avenue, is a huge rock, nearly circular, flat on the top and three
feet high. This is the "_dining table_." More than one hundred persons
could be seated around this table; on it the guide arranged our
dinner, and we luxuriated on "flesh and fowl" and "choice old sherry."
Never did a set of fellows enjoy dinner more than we did ours. Our
friend B. was perfectly at his ease and happy; and, in the exuberance
of his spirits, proposed the following toast:
"Prosperity to the subterranean territory of Cimmeria; large
enough, if not populous enough, for admission into the Union as
an independent State."
We emptied our glasses and gave nine hearty cheers in honor of the
sentiment. A proposition was made to adjourn, but B. was not inclined
to locomotion, and opposed it with great warmth, insisting that it was
too soon to move after such a dinner, and that a state of rest was
absolutely essential to healthy digestion. We had much argument on the
motion to adjourn; when our sagacious guide Stephen, with a meaning
look interposed, saying "we had as well be going, for the river might
take a rise and shut us up here." "What!" exclaimed B. in utter
consternation, and with a start, literally bouncing from his seat,
cried aloud "Let's be off!" at the same time suiting the action to the
word. In a second we were all in motion, and hurrying past beautiful
incrustations, through galleries long and tortuous, down one hill and
up another, (poor B. puffing and blowing, and all the while exclaiming
against the _terrible_ length and ruggedness of the way,) we at last
reached the Echo, which we found to our great relief had _not risen_.
It seems, the guide had used this stratagem for our own advantage, to
break off our banquet, lest it trenched too far upon the night. We
were too happy in having our fears relieved, to fall out with him. On
our homeward bound passage over the rivers, our admiration was rather
increased than diminished. The death-like stillness! the awful
silence! the wild grandeur and sublimity of the scene, tranquilizing
the feeling and disposing to pensive musings and quiet contemplation;
on a sudden a pistol is fired--a tremendous report ensues--its echoes
are heard reverberating from wall to wall, in caves far away, like the
low murmuring sound of distant thunder--the spell of silence and deep
reverie is broken--we become roused and animated, and the mighty
cavern resounds with our song. We believe every one will, under
similar circumstances, experience this sudden transition from pensive
musings to joyous hilarity. Leaving the rivers, we hastened onward to
the outlet to the upper world. Far ahead we perceive the first
_dawnings of day_, shining with a silvery pallid hue on the walls, and
increasing in brightness as we advance, until it bursts forth in all
the golden rays and glorious effulgence of the setting sun. This
_parting_ scene is lovely and interesting. We bid adieu to the "Great
Monarch of Caves." We here terminate our subterranean tour. Standing
on the grassy terrace above, we inhale the cool, pure air, and take a
last look at the "great Wonder of Wonders!" To all we would say "go
and see--explore the greatest of the Almighty's subterranean works."
No description can give you an idea of it--neither can inspection of
other caves; it is "the Monarch of Caves!" none that have ever been
measured can at all compare with it, in extent, in grandeur, in wild,
solemn, serene, unadorned majesty; it stands entirely alone.--"It has
no brother; it has no brother."