Chapter X.
With these determinations, I proceeded. The entrance was low, andcompelled me to resort to hands as well as feet. At a few yards from themouth the light disappeared, and I found myself immersed in the dunnestobscurity. Had I not been persuaded that another had gone before me, Ishould have relinquished the attempt. I proceeded with the utmostcaution, always ascertaining, by outstretched arms, the height andbreadth of the cavity before me. In a short time the dimensions expandedon all sides, and permitted me to resume my feet.
I walked upon a smooth and gentle declivity. Presently the wall on oneside, and the ceiling, receded beyond my reach. I began to fear that Ishould be involved in a maze, and should be disabled from returning. Toobviate this danger it was requisite to adhere to the nearest wall, andconform to the direction which it should take, without straying throughthe palpable obscurity. Whether the ceiling was lofty or low, whetherthe opposite wall of the passage was distant or near, this I deemed noproper opportunity to investigate.
In a short time, my progress was stopped by an abrupt descent. I setdown the advancing foot with caution, being aware that I might at thenext step encounter a bottomless pit. To the brink of such a one Iseemed now to have arrived. I stooped, and stretched my hand forward anddownward, but all was vacuity.
Here it was needful to pause. I had reached the brink of a cavity whosedepth it Avas impossible to ascertain. It might be a few inches beyondmy reach, or hundreds of feet. By leaping down I might incur no injury,or might plunge into a lake or dash myself to pieces on the points ofrocks.
I now saw with new force the propriety of being furnished with a light.The first suggestion was to return upon my footsteps, and resume myundertaking on the morrow. Yet, having advanced thus far, I feltreluctance to recede without accomplishing my purposes. I reflectedlikewise that Clithero had boldly entered this recess, and had certainlycome forth at a different avenue from that at which he entered.
At length it occurred to me that, though I could not go forward, yet Imight proceed along the edge of this cavity. This edge would be as safea guidance, and would serve as well for a clue by which I might return,as the wall which it was now necessary to forsake.
Intense dark is always the parent of fears. Impending injuries cannot inthis state be descried, nor shunned, nor repelled. I began to feel somefaltering of my courage, and seated myself, for a few minutes, on astony mass which arose before me. My situation was new. The caverns Ihad hitherto met with in this desert were chiefly formed of low-browedrocks. They were chambers, more or less spacious, into which twilightwas at least admitted; but here it seemed as if I were surrounded bybarriers that would forever cut off my return to air and to light.
Presently I resumed my courage and proceeded. My road appeared now toascend. On one side I seemed still upon the verge of a precipice, and onthe other all was empty and waste. I had gone no inconsiderabledistance, and persuaded myself that my career would speedily terminate.In a short time, the space on the left hand was again occupied, and Icautiously proceeded between the edge of the gulf and a rugged wall. Asthe space between them widened I adhered to the wall.
I was not insensible that my path became more intricate and moredifficult to retread in proportion as I advanced. I endeavoured topreserve a vivid conception of the way which I had already passed, andto keep the images of the left and right-hand wall, and the gulf, in duesuccession in my memory.
The path, which had hitherto been considerably smooth, now became ruggedand steep. Chilling damps, the secret trepidation which attended me, thelength and difficulties of my way, enhanced by the ceaseless caution andthe numerous expedients which the utter darkness obliged me to employ,began to overpower my strength. I was frequently compelled to stop andrecruit myself by rest. These respites from toil were of use, but theycould not enable me to prosecute an endless journey, and to return wasscarcely a less arduous task than to proceed.
I looked anxiously forward, in the hope of being comforted by some dimray, which might assure me that my labours were approaching an end. Atlast this propitious token appeared, and I issued forth into a kind ofchamber, one side of which was open to the air and allowed me to catch aportion of the checkered sky. This spectacle never before excited suchexquisite sensations in my bosom. The air, likewise, breathed into thecavern, was unspeakably delicious.
I now found myself on the projecture of a rock. Above and below, thehill-side was nearly perpendicular. Opposite, and at the distance offifteen or twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At the bottom was a glen,cold, narrow, and obscure. This projecture, which served as a kind ofvestibule to the cave, was connected with a ledge, by which, though notwithout peril and toil, I was conducted to the summit.
This summit was higher than any of those which were interposed betweenitself and the river. A large part of this chaos of rocks and precipiceswas subjected, at one view, to the eye. The fertile lawns and valeswhich lay beyond this, the winding course of the river, and the slopeswhich rose on its farther side, were parts of this extensive scene.These objects were at any time fitted to inspire rapture. Now my delightwas enhanced by the contrast which this lightsome and serene elementbore to the glooms from which I had lately emerged. My station, also,was higher, and the limits of my view, consequently, more ample than anywhich I had hitherto enjoyed.
I advanced to the outer verge of the hill, which I found to overlook asteep no less inaccessible, and a glen equally profound. I changedfrequently my station in order to diversify the scenery. At length itbecame necessary to inquire by what means I should return. I traversedthe edge of the hill, but on every side it was equally steep and alwaystoo lofty to permit me to leap from it. As I kept along the verge, Iperceived that it tended in a circular direction, and brought me back,at last, to the spot from which I had set out. From this inspection, itseemed as if return was impossible by any other way than that throughthe cavern.
I now turned my attention to the interior space. If you imagine acylindrical mass, with a cavity dug in the centre, whose edge conformsto the exterior edge; and if you place in this cavity another cylinder,higher than that which surrounds it, but so small as to leave betweenits sides and those of the cavity a hollow space, you will gain asdistinct an image of this hill as words can convey. The summit of theinner rock was rugged and covered with trees of unequal growth. To reachthis summit would not render my return easier; but its greater elevationwould extend my view, and perhaps furnish a spot from which the wholehorizon was conspicuous.
As I had traversed the outer, I now explored the inner, edge of thishill. At length I reached a spot where the chasm, separating the tworocks, was narrower than at any other part. At first view, it seemed asif it were possible to leap over it, but a nearer examination showed methat the passage was impracticable. So far as my eye could estimate it,the breadth was thirty or forty feet. I could scarcely venture to lookbeneath. The height was dizzy, and the walls, which approached eachother at top, receded at the bottom, so as to form the resemblance of animmense hall, lighted from a rift which some convulsion of nature hadmade in the roof. Where I stood there ascended a perpetual mist,occasioned by a torrent that dashed along the rugged pavement below.
From these objects I willingly turned my eye upon those before and aboveme, on the opposite ascent. A stream, rushing from above, fell into acavity, which its own force seemed gradually to have made. The noise andthe motion equally attracted my attention. There was a desolate andsolitary grandeur in the scene, enhanced by the circumstances in whichit was beheld, and by the perils through which I had recently passed,that had never before been witnessed by me.
A sort of sanctity and awe environed it, owing to the consciousness ofabsolute and utter loneliness. It was probable that human feet had neverbefore gained this recess, that human eyes had never been fixed uponthese gushing waters. The aboriginal inhabitants had no motives to leadthem into caves like this and ponder on the verge of such a precipice.Their successors were still less likely to have wandered hither. Sincet
he birth of this continent, I was probably the first who had deviatedthus remotely from the customary paths of men.
While musing upon these ideas, my eye was fixed upon the foamingcurrent. At length I looked upon the rocks which confined andembarrassed its course. I admired their fantastic shapes and endlessirregularities. Passing from one to the other of these, my attentionlighted, at length, as if by some magical transition, on--a humancountenance!
My surprise was so abrupt, and my sensations so tumultuous, that Iforgot for a moment the perilous nature of my situation. I loosened myhold of a pine-branch, which had been hitherto one of my supports, andalmost started from my seat. Had my station been in a slight degreenearer the brink than it was, I should have fallen headlong into theabyss.
To meet a human creature, even on that side of the chasm which Ioccupied, would have been wholly adverse to my expectation. My stationwas accessible by no other road than that through which I had passed,and no motives were imaginable by which others could be prompted toexplore this road. But he whom I now beheld was seated where it seemedimpossible for human efforts to have placed him.
But this affected me but little in comparison with other incidents. Notonly the countenance was human, but, in spite of shaggy and tangledlocks, and an air of melancholy wildness, I speedily recognised thefeatures of the fugitive Clithero!
One glance was not sufficient to make me acquainted with this scene. Ihad come hither partly in pursuit of this man, but some casual appendageof his person, something which should indicate his past rather than hispresent existence, was all that I hoped to find. That he should be foundalive in this desert, that he should have gained this summit, access towhich was apparently impossible, were scarcely within the boundaries ofbelief.
His scanty and coarse garb had been nearly rent away by brambles andthorns; his arms, bosom, and cheeks were overgrown and half concealed byhair. There was somewhat in his attitude and looks denoting more thananarchy of thoughts and passions. His rueful, ghastly, and immovableeyes testified not only that his mind was ravaged by despair, but thathe was pinched with famine.
These proofs of his misery thrilled to my inmost heart. Horror andshuddering invaded me as I stood gazing upon him, and, for a time, I waswithout the power of deliberating on the measures which it was my dutyto adopt for his relief. The first suggestion was, by calling, to informhim of my presence. I knew not what counsel or comfort to offer. By whatwords to bespeak his attention, or by what topics to mollify his direfulpassions, I knew not. Though so near, the gulf by which we wereseparated was impassable. All that I could do was to speak.
My surprise and my horror were still strong enough to give a shrill andpiercing tone to my voice. The chasm and the rocks loudened andreverberated my accents while I exclaimed,--"_Man! Clithero!_"
My summons was effectual. He shook off his trance in a moment. He hadbeen stretched upon his back, with his eyes fixed upon a craggyprojecture above, as if he were in momentary expectation of its fall andcrushing him to atoms. Now he started on his feet. He was conscious ofthe voice, but not of the quarter whence it came. He was lookinganxiously around when I again spoke:--"Look hither. It is I who called."
He looked. Astonishment was now mingled with every other dreadfulmeaning in his visage. He clasped his hands together and bent forward,as if to satisfy himself that his summoner was real. At the next momenthe drew back, placed his hands upon his breast, and fixed his eyes onthe ground.
This pause was not likely to be broken but by me. I was preparing againto speak. To be more distinctly heard, I advanced closer to the brink.During this action, my eye was necessarily withdrawn from him. Havinggained a somewhat nearer station, I looked again, but--he was gone!
The seat which he so lately occupied was empty. I was not forewarned ofhis disappearance or directed to the course of his flight by anyrustling among leaves. These, indeed, would have been overpowered by thenoise of the cataract. The place where he sat was the bottom of acavity, one side of which terminated in the verge of the abyss, but theother sides were perpendicular or overhanging. Surely he had not leapedinto this gulf; and yet that he had so speedily scaled the steep wasimpossible.
I looked into the gulf, but the depth and the gloom allowed me to seenothing with distinctness. His cries or groans could not be overheardamidst the uproar of the waters. His fall must have instantly destroyedhim, and that he had fallen was the only conclusion I could draw.
My sensations on this incident cannot be easily described. The image ofthis man's despair, and of the sudden catastrophe to which myinauspicious interference had led, filled me with compunction andterror. Some of my fears were relieved by the new conjecture, that,behind the rock on which he had lain, there might be some aperture orpit into which he had descended, or in which he might be concealed.
I derived consolation from this conjecture. Not only the evil which Idreaded might not have happened, but some alleviation of his misery waspossible. Could I arrest his footsteps and win his attention, I might beable to insinuate the lessons of fortitude; but if words were impotent,and arguments were nugatory, yet to sit by him in silence, to moistenhis hand with tears, to sigh in unison, to offer him the spectacle ofsympathy, the solace of believing that his demerits were not estimatedby so rigid a standard by others as by himself, that one at least amonghis fellow-men regarded him with love and pity, could not fail to be ofbenign influence.
These thoughts inspired me with new zeal. To effect my purpose it wasrequisite to reach the opposite steep. I was now convinced that this wasnot an impracticable undertaking, since Clithero had already performedit. I once more made the circuit of the hill. Every side was steep andof enormous height, and the gulf was nowhere so narrow as at this spot.I therefore returned hither, and once more pondered on the means ofpassing this tremendous chasm in safety.
Casting my eyes upward, I noted the tree at the root of which I wasstanding. I compared the breadth of the gulf with the length of thetrunk of this tree, and it appeared very suitable for a bridge. Happilyit grew obliquely, and, if felled by an axe, would probably fall ofitself, in such a manner as to be suspended across the chasm. The stockwas thick enough to afford me footing, and would enable me to reach theopposite declivity without danger or delay.
A more careful examination of the spot, the site of the tree, itsdimensions, and the direction of its growth, convinced me fully of thepracticability of this expedient, and I determined to carry it intoimmediate execution. For this end I must hasten home, procure an axe,and return with all expedition hither. I took my former way, once moreentered the subterranean avenue, and slowly re-emerged into day. BeforeI reached home, the evening was at hand, and my tired limbs and jadedspirits obliged me to defer my undertaking till the morrow.
Though my limbs were at rest, my thoughts were active through the night.I carefully reviewed the situation of this hill, and was unable toconjecture by what means Clithero could place himself upon it. Unless heoccasionally returned to the habitable grounds, it was impossible forhim to escape perishing by famine. He might intend to destroy himself bythis means, and my first efforts were to be employed to overcome thisfatal resolution. To persuade him to leave his desolate haunts might bea laborious and tedious task; meanwhile, all my benevolent intentionswould be frustrated by his want of sustenance. It was proper, therefore,to carry bread with me, and to place it before him. The sight of food,the urgencies of hunger, and my vehement entreaties, might prevail onhim to eat, though no expostulations might suffice to make him seek foodat a distance.
Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker Page 10
