Part 8 (1/2)
A trip on a muddy river, whose banks are fringed with a leafless forest resembling a huge store of Brobdignagian stable brooms, may be favourable to reflection; but, if description be attempted, there is danger lest the brooms sweep the ideas into the muddy water of dulness.
Out of consideration therefore to the reader, we will suppose ourselves disembarked at Louisville, with the intention of travelling inland to visit the leviathan wonder--the would-be rival to Niagara,--yclept ”The Mammoth Cave.” Its distance from Louisville is ninety-five miles. There is no such thing as a relay of horses to be met with--at all events, it is problematical; therefore, as the roads were execrable, we were informed it would take us two long days, and our informant strongly advised us to go by the mail, which only employs twenty-one hours to make the ninety-five miles' journey. There was no help for it; so, with a sigh of sad expectation, I resigned myself to my fate, of which I had experienced a short foretaste on my way to Pittsburg. I then inquired what lions the town offered to interest a traveller. I found there was little in that way, unless I wished to go through the pig-killing, scalding, and cutting process again; but stomach and imagination rebelled at the bare thought of a second edition of the b.l.o.o.d.y scene, so I was fain to content myself with the novelty of the tobacco pressing; and, as tobacco is the favourite _bonbon_ of the country, I may as well describe the process which the precious vegetable goes through ere it mingles with the human saliva.
A due admixture of whites and blacks a.s.semble together, and, damping the tobacco, extract all the large stems and fibres, which are then carefully laid aside ready for export to Europe, there to be cooked up for the noses of monarchs, old maids, and all others who aspire to the honour and glory of carrying a box--not forgetting those who carry it in the waistcoat-pocket, and funnel it up the nose with a goose-quill. How beautifully simple and unanswerable is the oft-told tale, of the reply of a testy old gentleman who hated snuff as much as a certain elderly person is said to hate holy-water--when offered a pinch by an ”extensive” young man with an elaborate gold-box. ”Sir,” said the indignant patriarch, ”I never take the filthy stuff! If the Almighty had intended my nostrils for a dust-pan, he would have turned them the other way.”--But I wander from the subject. We will leave the fibre to find its way to Europe and its noses, and follow the leaf to America and its mouths. In another apartment n.i.g.g.e.rs and whites re-pick the fibres out more carefully, and then roll up the pure loaf in a cylindrical shape, according to the measure provided for the purpose. It is then taken to another apartment, and placed in duly prepared compartments under a strong screw-press, by which operation it is transformed from a loose cylinder to a well squashed parallelogram. It is hard work, and the swarthy descendants of Ham look as if they were in a vapour-bath, and doubtless bedew the leaf with superfluous heat.
After the first pressing, it goes to a more artistic old negro, who, with two buckets of water--one like pea-soup, the other as dark as if some of his children had been boiled down in it--and armed with a sponge of most uninviting appearance, applies these liquids with most scientific touch, thereby managing to change the colour, and marble it, darken it, or lighten it, so as to suit the various tastes. This operation completed, and perspiring negroes s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g down frantically, it is forced into the box prepared for its reception, which is imbedded in a strong iron-bound outer case during the process, to prevent the more fragile one from bursting under the pressure. All this over, and the top fixed, a master-painter covers it with red and black paint, recording its virtues and its charms. What a pity it could not lie in its snug bed for ever! But, alas! fate and the transatlantic Anglo-Saxon have decreed otherwise. Too short are its slumbers, too soon it bursts again, to suffer fresh pressure under the molars of the free and enlightened, and to fall in filthy showers over the length and breadth of the land, deluging every house and every vehicle to a degree that must be seen to be believed, and filling the stranger with much wonder, but far more disgust. I really think it must be chewing tobacco which makes the Americans so much more restless, so much more like armadillos than any other nation. It often has excited my wonder, how the more intelligent and civilized portion of the community, who do not generally indulge in the loathsome practice, can reconcile themselves to the annoyance of it as kindly as they do. Habit and necessity are powerful masters.
Having finished this exhibition--which, by the way, kept me sneezing all the time--I went next to see a steam sawing, planing, and fitting mill.
Labour being very expensive, these establishments are invaluable here; such an establishment as I saw could supply, from the raw wood in logs, all the doors and window-frames of ”Stafford House” in three days, barring the polish and paint. If Mr. Cubitt is not up to this machinery, this hint may be the means of making his fortune double itself in ”quarter-less no time.”[M] As we knew that our journey to-morrow must be inexpressibly tedious, we beat an early retreat, requesting a cup of hot tea or coffee might be ready for us half an hour before our departure.
Poor simple creatures that we were, to expect such a thing! The free and enlightened get their breakfast after being two hours _en route_, and can do without anything before starting--_ergo_, we must do the same: thus, though there were literally servants enough in the house to form a substantial militia regiment, a cup of tea was impossible to be obtained for love or money. All we had for it was to bury our disappointment in sleep.
Soon after three the next morning we were roused from our slumbers, and, finis.h.i.+ng our toilet, cheered our insides with an unadulterated draught from the Ohio. All outside the door was dark, cheerless, solitary, and still. Presently the silence was broken by some violent puffs from a penny trumpet. ”Dat's de mayle, ma.s.sa,” said a n.i.g.g.e.r in the hall, accompanying his observation with a mysterious grin, evidently meant to convey the idea, ”You'll have enough of her before you've done.” Up she came to the door--I believe, by custom if not by grammar, a man-of-war and a mail-coach are shes--a heavy, lumbering machine, with springs, &c., apparently intended for scaling the Rocky Mountains. The inside was about three feet broad and five feet long, and was intended for the convenience (?) of nine people, the three who occupied the centre seat having a moveable leather strap to support their backs. Outside, there was one seat by the coachman; and if the correspondence was not great, three more might sit behind the coachman, in all the full enjoyment of a splendidly cramped position. The sides of the carriage were made of leather, and fitted with b.u.t.tons, for the purpose of opening in summer.
Being a nasty drizzling morning, we got inside, with our two servants, and found we had it all to ourselves. ”I am sure this is comfortable enough,” observed my companion, who was one of the mildest and most contented of human beings. ”Too good to last long,” thought I.
The penny trumpet sounds, and off we go--not on our journey, but all over the town to the different hotels, to pick up live freight. I heartily hoped they might all oversleep themselves that morning. Alas!
no such luck. Jonathan and a weasel are two animals that are very rarely caught napping. Pa.s.sengers kept coming in until we were six, and ”comfortable enough” became a misnomer. A furious blast of the tin tube, with a few spicy impromptu variations, portended something important, and, as we pulled up, we saw it was the post-office; but, murder of murders! we saw four more pa.s.sengers! One got up outside; another was following; Jarvey stopped him, with--”I guess there aint no room up here for you; the mail's a-coming here.” The door opened,--the three damp bodkins in line commenced their a.s.sault,--the last came between my companion and myself, I could not see much of him, it was so dark; but--woe is me!--there are other senses besides sight, and my unfortunate nostrils drank in a most foetid polecatty odour, ever increasing as he drew nearer and nearer. Room to sit there was none; but, at the blast of the tube, the rattle over the pitty pavement soon shook the obnoxious animal down between us, squeezing the poisonous exhalation out of him at each successive jolt. As dawn rose, we saw he was a German, and doubtless the poor fellow was very hard-up for money, and had been feeding for some time past on putrid pork. As for his hide and his linen, it would have been an unwarrantable tax upon his memory to have asked him when they had last come in contact with soap and water. My stomach felt like the Bay of Biscay in an equinoctial gale, and I heartily wished I could have dispensed with the two holes at the bottom of my nose. I dreaded asking how far he was going; but another pa.s.senger--under the influence of the human nosegay he was constrained to inhale--summed up the courage to pop the question, and received a reply which extinguished in my breast the last flickering ray of Hope's dim taper--”Sair, I vosh go to Nashveele.” Only conceive the horror of being squashed into such a neighbour for twenty-one long hours, and over a road that necessarily kept jerking the unwashed and polecatty head into your face ten times in a minute! Who that has bowels of compa.s.sion but must commiserate me in such ”untoward circ.u.mstances?”
Although we had left the hotel at four, it was five before we left the town, and about seven before we unpacked for breakfast, nine miles out of town. The stench of my neighbour had effectually banished all idea of eating or drinking from my mind; so I walked up and down outside, smoking my cigar, and thinking ”What can I do?” At last, the bright idea struck me--I will get in next time with my cigar; what if we are nine herrings in the barrel?--everybody smokes in this country--they won't object--and I think, by keeping the steam well up, I can neutralize a little of the polecat. So when the time came for starting, I got my big cigar-case, &c., out on my knees--as getting at your pockets, when once packed, was impossible--and entering boldly with my weed at high pressure, down I sat. We all gradually shook into our places. Very soon a pa.s.senger looked me steadily in the face; he evidently was going to speak; I quailed inwardly, dreading he was going to object to the smell of smoke. Oh, joyous sight! a cigar appeared between his fingers, and the re-a.s.suring words came forth--”A light, sir, if you please.” I never gave one more readily in my life. Gradually, pa.s.senger after pa.s.senger produced cigars; the aroma filled the coach, and the fragrance of the weed triumphed over the foetor of the polecat. Six insides out of nine hard at it, and four of them with knock-me-down Virginia tobacco, the single human odour could not contend against such powerful odds; as well might a musquito sneeze against thunder. I always loved a cigar; but here I learnt its true value in a desperate emergency.
On we went, puffing, pumping, and jolting, till at last we came to a stand on the banks of a river. As there was a reasonable probability of the mail shooting into the stream on its descent, we were told to get out, on doing which we found ourselves pleasantly situated about a foot deep in mud; the mail got down safe into an open ferry-boat with two oars, and s.p.a.ce for pa.s.sengers before the horses or behind the coach.
The ferry was but for a few minutes, and we then had to ascend another bank of mud, at the top of which we retook our seats in the mail, bringing with us in the aggregate, about a hundredweight of fine clay soil, with which additional cargo we continued our journey. One o'clock brought us to Elizabeth Town, and dinner; the latter was very primitive, tough, and greasy.
Once more we entered our cells, and continued our route, the bad road getting worse and worse, rarely allowing us to go out of a walk. Two of our fellow-pa.s.sengers managed to make themselves as offensive as possible. They seemed to be travelling bagmen of the lowest cla.s.s.
Conversation they had none, but by way of appearing witty, they kept repeating over and over again some four or five stories, laughing at one another's tales, which were either blasphemous or beastly--so much so, that I would most willingly have compounded for two more human polecats in lieu of them. I must say, that although all cla.s.ses mix together in public conveyances, this was the first time I had ever found people conduct themselves in so disgusting a manner. We soon came to another river, and getting out, enjoyed a second mud walk, bringing in with us as before a rich cargo of clay soil; and after a continuous and increasing jolting, which threatened momentary and universal dislocation, we arrived, after a drive of twenty-one hours, at our journey's end--i.e., at ”Old Bell's,” so called from the proprietor of the inn. Here we were to pa.s.s the night, or rather the remainder of it, the mail going on to Nashville, and taking our foetid bodkin on with it.
But, alas! the two more disagreeable pa.s.sengers before alluded to remained, as they had suddenly made up their minds to stay and visit the Mammoth Cave.
Old Bell is a venerable specimen of seventy odd years of age, and has been here, I believe, half a century nearly. One of his daughters, I am told, is very pretty. She is married to a senator of the United States, and keeps one of the most agreeable houses in Was.h.i.+ngton. The old gentleman is said to be worth some money, but he evidently is determined to die in harness. As regularly as the mail arrives, about one in the morning, so regularly does he turn out and welcome the pa.s.sengers with a gla.s.s of mixed honey, brandy, and water. The beverage and the donor reminded me forcibly of ”Old Crerer,” and the ”Athole Brose,” with which he always welcomed those who visited him in his Highland cottage. Having got beds to ourselves--after repeated requests to roost two in a nest, as the house was small--I soon tumbled into my lair, and in the blessed forgetfulness of sleep the miseries of the day became mingled with the things that were. The next morning, after breakfast, we got a conveyance to take the party over to the Cave, a distance of seven miles. One may really say there is no road. For at least one half of the way there is nothing but a rugged track of rock and roots of trees, ever threatening the springs of the carriage and the limbs of the pa.s.senger with frightful fractures. However, by walking over the worst of it, you protect the latter and save the former, thus rendering accidents of rare occurrence.
The hotel is a straggling building, chiefly ground floor, and with a verandah all round. The air is deliriously pure, and in summer it must be lovely. It is situated on a plateau, from the extremity of which the bank descends to the Green River. On both sides is the wild forest, and round the giant trunks the enamoured vine twines itself with the affectionate pertinacity of a hungry boa-constrictor, and boars its head in triumph to the topmost branches. But vegetable life is not like a Venus who, ”when unadorned, is adorned the most;” and, the forest having cast off its summer attire, presents an uninviting aspect in the cold nudity of winter. When the virgin foliage of spring appears, and ripens into the full verdure of summer, the shade of these banks must be delicious; the broad-leaved and loving vine extending its matrimonial embrace as freely and universally through the forest as Joe Smith and his brethren do theirs among the ladies at the Salt Lake; and when autumn arrives, with those gorgeous glowing tints unknown to the Old World, the scene must be altogether lovely; then the admirer of nature, floating between the banks on the light-green bosom of the stream below, and watching the ever-changing tints, as the sun dropped softly into his couch in the west, would enjoy a feast that memory might in vain try to exhaust itself in recalling.
There are guides appointed who provide lanterns and torches for visitors who wish to examine the Mammoth Cave; and its interior is such a labyrinth, that, without their aid, the task would be a dangerous one.
Rough clothing is provided at the hotel, the excursion being one of scramble and difficulty.
Thus prepared, we started on our exploring expedition, pa.s.sing at the entry the remnants of old saltpetre works, which were established here during the struggle at New Orleans. The extent of this cave would render a detail tedious, as there are comparatively few objects of interest.
The greatest marvel is a breed of small white fish without eyes, several of which are always to be seen. Like all similar places, it varies in size in the most arbitrary manner. At one minute you are struggling for s.p.a.ce, and suddenly you emerge upon a Gothic-looking hall, full of gracefully pendent stalact.i.tes. Again you proceed along corridors, at one time lofty, at another threatening your head, if pride do not give way to humility. Then you come to rivers, of which there are two. At one time you are rowing under a magnificent vault, and then, anon, you are forced to lie flat down in the boat, or leave your head behind you, as you float through a pa.s.sage, the roof whereof grazes the gunwale of the boat. My guide informed me that there was a peculiarity in these rivers n.o.body could satisfactorily account for, viz., that the more it rained, the lower these waters fell. I expect the problem resembled that which is attributed to King Charles, viz., ”How it was, that if a dead fish was put into a vessel full of water it immediately overflowed, but that, if a live fish was put in, it did not do so;” and I have some suspicion the solution is the same in both cases. Among other strange places, is one which rejoices in the name of ”Fat Man's Misery.” At one minute the feet get fixed as in the stocks; at another, the upper portion of the body is called upon to make a right angle with the lower; even then, a projecting point of the rock above will sometimes prod you upon the upturned angle, in endeavouring to save which, by a too rapid act of humility, you knock all the skin off the more vulnerable knee. Emerging from this difficulty, and, perhaps, rising too hastily, a crack on the head closes your eyes, filling them with a vision of forked lightning.
Recovering from this agreeable sensation, you find a gap like the edge of a razor, in going through which, you feel the b.u.t.tons of your waistcoat rubbing against your backbone. It certainly would be no bad half-hour's recreation to watch a rotund Lord Mayor, followed by a court of aldermen to match, forcing their way through this pa.s.s after a turtle dinner.
The last place I shall mention is the one which, to me, afforded the greatest pleasure: it is a large hall, in which, after being placed in a particular position, the guide retires to a distance, taking with him all the lights; and knowing by experience what portion of them to conceal, bids you, when he is ready, look overhead. In a few seconds it has the appearance of the sky upon a dark night; but, as the eye becomes accustomed to the darkness, small spots are seen like stars; and they keep increasing till the vaulted roof has the appearance of a lovely star-light night. I never saw a more pleasing or perfect illusion. It would be difficult to estimate correctly the size of the Mammoth Cave.
The American gazetteers say it extends ten or twelve miles, and has lateral branches, which, altogether, amount to forty miles. It is, I imagine, second in size only to the Cacuhuainilpa, in Mexico, which, if the accounts given are accurate, would take half a dozen such as the Mammoth inside. I fear it is almost superfluous to inform the reader, that the Anglo-Saxon keeps up his unenviable character for disfiguring every place he visits; and you consequently see the names of Smith, Brown, Snooks, &c., smoked on the rocks in all directions--an appropriate sooty record of a barbarous practice.[N]
Having enjoyed two days in exploring this ”gigantic freak of Nature,”
we commenced our return about half-past four in the afternoon, so as to get over the break-neck track before dark. Old Bell[O] welcomed us as usual with his honey, brandy, and water. He then prepared us some dinner, as we wished to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' sleep before commencing our return to Louisville, with its twenty-one hours of pleasure. About half-past ten at night, a blast in the breeze, mixed with a confused slushy sound, as sixteen hoofs plashed in the mud, rang the knell in our ears, ”Your time has come!” I anxiously looked as the mail pulled up in the middle of the road opposite to the door--they always allow the pa.s.sengers the privilege of wading through the mud to the door of the inn--to see if by any chance it was empty, having been told that but few people comparatively travelled the back route--no wonder, if they could help it. Alas! the steam on the window announced, with fatal certainty, some humanities inside. The door opened; out they came, one, two, three, four. It was a small coach, with three seats, having only s.p.a.ce for two persons on each, thus leaving places inside for my friend and myself.
”Any room outside, there?”
”Room for one, sir!”
There was no help for it, and we were therefore obliged to leave one servant behind, to follow next night.