I could not but be aware of
the danger of my resolution to explore these dusky labyrinths without a
guide, yet I prepared myself in a measure against a contingency,
carrying in my pocket an extra roll of paper, in case that which I bore
in my hand should come to an end, and a tinder-box. Besides this, I had filled my pockets with bread, partly in case of
extreme emergency, to sustain life, and partly to drop in crumbs behind
me as I went to mark the way. I had commenced dropping my breadcrumbs
from the very beginning and making slight excursions by myself, then
turning back to join the party of English. Once or twice the monk called me back, and as I went and returned
several times, I suppose no notice was taken when I really did strike
out in an unbeaten track. I took an opportunity of starting when a stout
English female was assailing our ascetic friend with trivial questions
in wretched Italian. Whilst public attention seemed engrossed I started off with my taper
through a long and apparently interminable passage, which I was told led
to Ostia, the ancient sea-port. No one called after me, so I suppose I
was not missed. On, and still further, on I went, groping my way until I could no longer
hear the voices of the party, nor see the light of their tapers through
the dim arches of the catacombs. "Would the monk miss me and go in search of me, thus breaking short all
hopes of my exploring expedition?" I asked myself. To avoid this, or at least to see as much as possible of the forbidden
haunts before I was caught, I walked on fast, not forgetting, however,
to drop my breadcrumbs all the time. There is a great sameness in all these catacombs, being long, straight,
gloomy passages branching off in all directions, only varied at
intervals with an occasional chapel, barely large enough to hold ten
people crowded together, a simple, roughly-hewn cell in the rock, and
destitute of anything that an antiquarian might be tempted to pocket;
however, whenever I came across an inscription of any interest I
immediately jotted it down in my note-book. Now, the thought of being lost in these terrible catacombs with the
prospect before me of gradually dying of starvation without the
slightest chance of succour had often occurred to my mind, and was of
all thoughts the most dreadful. It was a daring thing I was attempting, and I own to experiencing a
slight tremor, which increased the further I advanced. Yet, what had I
to fear? Was I not well provided with tapers and tinder-box? Had I not
marked the way with breadcrumbs besides carrying with me a good-sized
roll to allay hunger in case of emergency? What danger did I incur? So I
stifled my fears and boldly proceeded, passing innumerable tombs of
saints and martyrs, chapels, inscriptions, rude drawings on the wall,
Latin names, etc. If I still felt any lingering tremor, it was a pleasing fear that only
spurred me on the more, and I had not the slightest inclination to turn
back. The situation was a new one to me, and I experienced from it a new
emotion. Here was I, a solitary individual in the bowels of the earth,
with the gay world above me perfectly unconscious that one of their kind
was burrowing, taper in hand, beneath their very feet, treading in the
footsteps of those enthusiastic workmen who had excavated these vaults,
and which had been untrodden since by foot of man! What will not an enthusiast go through in the noble pursuit of science? My stock of bread was now completely exhausted. I had not left a crumb
to satisfy my hunger in case of need, such was my enthusiasm to
penetrate deeply into these unknown regions. But what matter? When I felt hungry I could return at any time. Had I
not the clue? Thus I said to myself as I sprinkled my last remaining
crumbs behind me. I had now penetrated a very considerable distance into
this abode of the pious dead, when here an unforeseen and terrible
accident befell me. Walking onward and incautiously looking behind me as
I proceeded, I did not observe a flight of steep steps, slippery from
the damp slime that exudes below ground, and that led--where? I never
knew, for suddenly losing my footing, I fell headlong down into a dark
abyss, where I lay stunned and senseless. How long I remained thus it is impossible to tell, for when I recovered
my senses sufficiently to grope around me, I could recollect nothing,
but I found my head cut and bleeding profusely. I felt the warm blood
trickling down my neck and matting my hair. I tried to stand upon my
feet, but swooned again from loss of blood. I had just presence of mind
when I awoke from my swoon to bind up my head with a handkerchief. I remained for long on the cold ground in a sitting posture and tried to
collect my ideas. Gradually I became aware of the horror of my
situation. Of course my taper was extinguished by my fall. I essayed to
relight it, but the material was damp with the dews of the catacomb and
with my blood, besides which my strength failed me. I began to feel
hungry, too, for I had eaten but a light breakfast. Could anything have
been more pitiable than my plight? Wounded in the head and weakened with
loss of blood, lost in the very heart of the catacombs without a light,
without the barest prospect of mortal coming to my rescue, hungry, the
little bread that I had taken with me wasted to make a clue which I now
found it impossible to trace in the dark, and with every prospect of a
lingering death before me! With difficulty I clambered up the steps and searched in vain for the
crumbs of bread on my hands and knees. I was nigh fainting again, but
that strong love of life that is instinctive in us all made me screw up
my nerves with a preternatural energy, and I essayed to shout for help. Although I must have been aware of the futility of my attempts, we all
know that a drowning man will cling to a straw, so bracing my strength
up to its utmost possible pitch, I gave vent to a superhuman shriek,
which re-echoed through the gloomy arches like the mocking laugh of
demons. The sound of my own voice in agony amidst the awful silence of this
place of tombs sent a new thrill of horror through my frame, my nerves
being rendered weak and sensitive by the loss of vital fluid I had
sustained, and jarred upon the full consciousness of my terrible
situation. I felt on the brink of madness. Every now and then I heard
the rumbling of carriage wheels over my head, like distant thunder in
the world above me, which enhanced still more the misery of my
position, for I could not help contrasting my lot with that of the happy
individual rolling over my head in his proud carriage, enjoying the
bright sun and blue sky whilst I was doomed to be buried alive in those
horrible catacombs, dying by inches in the greatest conceivable agony of
body and mind, but few feet below that carriage road over which passed
the gay and thoughtless in their fashionable equipages. I tried to call out again, but my voice failed me.