After breakfast we took leave of the young ladies, and of our excellent
companion Col, to whom we had been so much obliged. He had now put us
under the care of his Chief; and was to hasten back to Sky. We parted
from him with very strong feelings of kindness and gratitude; and we
hoped to have had some future opportunity of proving to him the
sincerity of what we felt; but in the following year he was
unfortunately lost in the Sound between Ulva and Mull[889]; and this
imperfect memorial, joined to the high honour of being tenderly and
respectfully mentioned by Dr. Johnson, is the only return which the
uncertainty of human events has permitted us to make to this deserving
young man.
Sir Allan, who obligingly undertook to accompany us to Icolmkill[890],
had a strong good boat, with four stout rowers. We coasted along Mull
till we reached _Gribon_, where is what is called Mackinnon's cave,
compared with which that at Ulinish[891] is inconsiderable. It is in a
rock of a great height, close to the sea. Upon the left of its entrance
there is a cascade, almost perpendicular from the top to the bottom of
the rock. There is a tradition that it was conducted thither
artificially, to supply the inhabitants of the cave with water. Dr.
Johnson gave no credit to this tradition. As, on the one hand, his faith
in the Christian religion is firmly founded upon good grounds; so, on
the other, he is incredulous when there is no sufficient reason for
belief[892]; being in this respect just the reverse of modern infidels,
who, however nice and scrupulous in weighing the evidences of religion,
are yet often so ready to believe the most absurd and improbable tales
of another nature, that Lord Hailes well observed, a good essay might be
written _Sur la crédulité des Incrédules_.
The height of this cave I cannot tell with any tolerable exactness; but
it seemed to be very lofty, and to be a pretty regular arch. We
penetrated, by candlelight, a great way; by our measurement, no less
than four hundred and eighty-five feet. Tradition says, that a piper and
twelve men once advanced into this cave, nobody can tell how far; and
never returned. At the distance to which we proceeded the air was quite
pure; for the candle burned freely, without the least appearance of the
flame growing globular; but as we had only one, we thought it dangerous
to venture farther, lest, should it have been extinguished, we should
have had no means of ascertaining whether we could remain without
danger. Dr. Johnson said, this was the greatest natural curiosity he had
ever seen.
We saw the island of Staffa, at no very great distance, but could not
land upon it, the surge was so high on its rocky coast[893].
Sir Allan, anxious for the honour of Mull, was still talking of its
_woods_, and pointing them out to Dr. Johnson, as appearing at a
distance on the skirts of that island, as we sailed along. JOHNSON.
'Sir, I saw at Tobermorie what they called a wood, which I unluckily
took for _heath_. If you shew me what I shall take for _furze_, it will
be something.'
In the afternoon we went ashore on the coast of Mull, and partook of a
cold repast, which we carried with us. We hoped to have procured some
rum or brandy for our boatmen and servants, from a publick-house near
where we landed; but unfortunately a funeral a few days before had
exhausted all their store[894]. Mr. Campbell, however, one of the Duke
of Argyle's tacksmen, who lived in the neighbourhood, on receiving a
message from Sir Allan, sent us a liberal supply.
We continued to coast along Mull, and passed by Nuns' Island, which, it
is said, belonged to the nuns of Icolmkill, and from which, we were
told, the stone for the buildings there was taken. As we sailed along by
moon-light, in a sea somewhat rough, and often between black and gloomy
rocks, Dr. Johnson said, 'If this be not _roving among the Hebrides_,
nothing is[895]. The repetition of words which he had so often
previously used, made a strong impression on my imagination; and, by a
natural course of thinking, led me to consider how our present
adventures would appear to me at a future period.
I have often experienced, that scenes through which a man has passed,
improve by lying in the memory: they grow mellow. _Acti labores sunt
jucundi_[896]. This may be owing to comparing them with present listless
ease. Even harsh scenes acquire a softness by length of time[897]; and
some are like very loud sounds, which do not please, or at least do not
please so much, till you are removed to a certain distance. They may be
compared to strong coarse pictures, which will not bear to be viewed
near. Even pleasing scenes improve by time, and seem more exquisite in
recollection, than when they were present; if they have not faded to
dimness in the memory. Perhaps, there is so much evil in every human
enjoyment, when present,--so much dross mixed with it, that it requires
to be refined by time; and yet I do not see why time should not melt
away the good and the evil in equal proportions;--why the shade should
decay, and the light remain in preservation.
After a tedious sail, which, by our following various turnings of the
coast of Mull, was extended to about forty miles, it gave us no small
pleasure to perceive a light in the village at Icolmkill, in which
almost all the inhabitants of the island live, close to where the
ancient building stood. As we approached the shore, the tower of the
cathedral, just discernible in the air, was a picturesque object.
When we had landed upon the sacred place, which, as long as I can
remember, I had thought on with veneration, Dr. Johnson and I cordially
embraced. We had long talked of visiting Icolmkill; and, from the
lateness of the season, were at times very doubtful whether we should be
able to effect our purpose. To have seen it, even alone, would have
given me great satisfaction; but the venerable scene was rendered much
more pleasing by the company of my great and pious friend, who was no
less affected by it than I was; and who has described the impressions it
should make on the mind, with such strength of thought, and energy of
language, that I shall quote his words, as conveying my own sensations
much more forcibly than I am capable of doing:--
'We were now treading that illustrious Island, which was once the
luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving
barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of
religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be
impossible, if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were
possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever
makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the
present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me, and
from my friends, be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent
and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery,
or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not
gain force upon the plain of _Marathon_, or whose piety would not grow
warmer among the ruins of _Iona_[898]!'
Upon hearing that Sir Allan M'Lean was arrived, the inhabitants, who
still consider themselves as the people of M'Lean, to whom the island
formerly belonged, though the Duke of Argyle has at present possession
of it, ran eagerly to him.
We were accommodated this night in a large barn, the island, affording
no lodging that we should have liked so well. Some good hay was strewed
at one end of it, to form a bed for us, upon which we lay with our
clothes on; and we were furnished with blankets from the village[899].
Each of us had a portmanteau for a pillow. When I awaked in the morning,
and looked round me, I could not help smiling at the idea of the chief
of the M'Leans, the great English Moralist, and myself, lying thus
extended in such a situation.