Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Volume 4 (of 10)Lockhart, J. G. (John Gibson)
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Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Volume 4 (of 10)
Lockhart, J. G. (John Gibson)
Authors, Scottish -- 19th century -- Biography; Scott, Walter, 1771-1832
"When our _enfant perdu_ had recovered breath and legs, he brought
the boat back to the entrance, and took us in. We now found
ourselves embarked on a deep black pond of an irregular form, the
rocks rising like a dome all around us, and high over our heads. The
light, a sort of dubious twilight, was derived from two chasms in
the roof of the vault, for that offered by the entrance was but
trifling. Down one of those rents there poured from the height of
eighty feet, in a sheet of foam, the brook, which, after supplying
the subterranean pond with water, finds its way out beneath the
ledge of rock that blocks its entrance. The other skylight, if I may
so term it, looks out at the clear blue sky. It is impossible for
description to explain the impression made by so strange a place, to
which we had been conveyed with so much difficulty. The cave
itself, the pool, the cataract, would have been each separate
objects of wonder, but all united together, and affecting at once
the ear, the eye, and the imagination, their effect is
indescribable. The length of this pond, or loch as the people here
call it, is seventy feet over, the breadth about thirty at the
narrowest point, and it is of great depth.
"As we resolved to proceed, we directed the boat to a natural arch
on the right hand, or west side of the cataract. This archway was
double, a high arch being placed above a very low one, as in a Roman
aqueduct. The ledge of rock which forms this lower arch is not above
two feet and a half high above the water, and under this we were to
pass in the boat; so that we were fain to pile ourselves flat upon
each other like a layer of herrings. By this judicious disposition
we were pushed in safety beneath this low-browed rock into a region
of utter darkness. For this, however, we were provided, for we had a
tinder-box and lights. The view back upon the twilight lake we had
crossed, its sullen eddies wheeling round and round, and its echoes
resounding to the ceaseless thunder of the waterfall, seemed dismal
enough, and was aggravated by temporary darkness, and in some degree
by a sense of danger. The lights, however, dispelled the latter
sensation, if it prevailed to any extent, and we now found ourselves
in a narrow cavern, sloping somewhat upward from the water. We got
out of the boat, proceeded along some slippery places upon shelves
of the rock, and gained the dry land. I cannot say _dry_, excepting
comparatively. We were then in an arched cave, twelve feet high in
the roof, and about eight feet in breadth, which went winding into
the bowels of the earth for about an hundred feet. The sides, being
(like those of the whole cavern) of limestone rock, were covered
with stalactites, and with small drops of water like dew, glancing
like ten thousand thousand sets of birthday diamonds under the glare
of our lights. In some places these stalactites branch out into
broad and curious ramifications, resembling coral and the foliage of
submarine plants.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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