July 1st.--Immediately after our arrival yesterday, we went out and
inquired our way to the cathedral, which we reached through a good deal
of Scotch dirt, and a rabble of Scotch people of all sexes and ages. The
women of Scotland have a faculty of looking exceedingly ugly as they grow
old. The cathedral I have already noticed in the record of my former
visit to Scotland. I did it no justice then, nor shall do it any better
justice now; but it is a fine old church, although it makes a colder and
severer impression than most of the Gothic architecture which I have
elsewhere seen. I do not know why this should be so; for portions of it
are wonderfully rich, and everywhere there are arches opening beyond
arches, and clustered pillars and groined roofs, and vistas, lengthening
along the aisles. The person who shows it is an elderly man of jolly
aspect and demeanor; he is enthusiastic about the edifice, and makes it
the thought and object of his life; and being such a merry sort of man,
always saying something mirthfully, and yet, in all his thoughts, words,
and actions, having reference to this solemn cathedral, he has the effect
of one of the corbels or gargoyles,--those ludicrous, strange sculptures
which the Gothic architects appended to their arches.
The upper portion of the minster, though very stately and beautiful, is
not nearly so extraordinary as the crypts. Here the intricacy of the
arches, and the profound system on which they are arranged, is
inconceivable, even when you see them,--a whole company of arches uniting
in one keystone; arches uniting to form a glorious canopy over the shrine
or tomb of a prelate; arches opening through and beyond one another,
whichever way you look,-- all amidst a shadowy gloom, yet not one detail
wrought out the less beautifully and delicately because it could scarcely
be seen. The wreaths of flowers that festoon one of the arches are cut
in such relief that they do but just adhere to the stone on which they
grow. The pillars are massive, and the arches very low, the effect being
a twilight, which at first leads the spectator to imagine himself
underground; but by and by I saw that the sunshine came in through the
narrow windows, though it scarcely looked like sunshine then. For many
years these crypts were used as burial-ground, and earth was brought in,
for the purpose of making graves; so that the noble columns were half
buried, and the beauty of the architecture quite lost and forgotten. Now
the dead men's bones and the earth that covered them have all been
removed, leaving the original pavement of the crypt, or a new one in its
stead, with only the old relics of saints, martyrs, and heroes
underneath, where they have lain so long that they have become a part of
the spot. . . . I was quite chilled through, and the old verger
regretted that we had not come during the late hot weather, when the
everlasting damp and chill of the spot would have made us entirely
comfortable. These crypts originated in the necessity of keeping the
floor of the upper cathedral on one level, the edifice being built on a
declivity, and the height of the crypt being measured by the descent of
the site.
After writing the above, we walked out and saw something of the newer
portion of Glasgow; and, really, I am inclined to think it the stateliest
of cities. The Exchange and other public buildings, and the shops in
Buchanan Street, are very magnificent; the latter, especially, excelling
those of London. There is, however, a pervading sternness and grimness
resulting from the dark gray granite, which is the universal
building-material both of the old and new edifices. Later in the
forenoon we again walked out, and went along Argyle Street, and through
the Trongate and the Salt-Market. The two latter were formerly the
principal business streets, and together with High Street, the abode of
the rich merchants and other great people of the town. High Street, and,
still more, the Salt-Market, now swarm with the lower orders to a degree
which I never witnessed elsewhere; so that it is difficult to make one's
way among the sullen and unclean crowd, and not at all pleasant to
breathe in the noisomeness of the atmosphere. The children seem to have
been unwashed from birth. Some of the gray houses appear to have once
been stately and handsome, and have their high gable ends notched at the
edges, like a flight of stairs. We saw the Tron steeple, and the
statue of King William III., and searched for the Old Tolbooth. . . .
Wandering up the High Street, we turned once more into the quadrangle of
the University, and mounted a broad stone staircase which ascends square,
and with right-angular turns on one corner, on the outside of the
edifices. It is very striking in appearance, being ornamented with a
balustrade, on which are large globes of stone, and a great lion and
unicorn curiously sculptured on the opposite side. While we waited here,
staring about us, a man approached, and offered to show us the interior.
He seemed to be in charge of the College buildings. We accepted his
offer, and were led first up this stone staircase, and into a large and
stately hall, panelled high towards the ceiling with dark oak, and
adorned with elaborately carved cornices, and other wood-work. There was
a long reading-table towards one end of the hall, on which were laid
pamphlets and periodicals; and a venerable old gentleman, with white head
and bowed shoulders, sat there reading a newspaper. This was the
Principal of the University, and as he looked towards us graciously, yet
as if expecting some explanation of our entrance, I approached and
apologized for intruding on the plea of our being strangers and anxious
to see the College. He made a courteous response, though in exceedingly
decayed and broken accents, being now eighty-six years old, and gave us
free leave to inspect everything that was to be seen. This hall was
erected two years after the Restoration of Charles II., and has been the
scene, doubtless, of many ceremonials and high banquetings since that
period; and, among other illustrious personages, Queen Victoria has
honored it with her presence. Thence we went into several recitation or
lecture rooms in various parts of the buildings; but they were all of an
extreme plainness, very unlike the rich old Gothic libraries and chapels
and halls which we saw in Oxford. Indeed, the contrast between this
Scotch severity and that noble luxuriance, and antique majesty, and rich
and sweet repose of Oxford, is very remarkable, both within the edifices
and without. But we saw one or two curious things,--for instance, a
chair of mahogany, elaborately carved with the arms of Scotland and other
devices, and having a piece of the kingly stone of Scone inlaid in its
seat. This chair is used by the Principal on certain high occasions, and
we ourselves, of course, sat down in it. Our guide assigned to it a date
preposterously earlier than could have been the true one, judging either
by the character of the carving or by the fact that mahogany has not been
known or used much more than a century and a half.
Afterwards he led us into the Divinity Hall, where, he said, there were
some old portraits of historic people, and among them an original picture
of Mary, Queen of Scots. There was, indeed, a row of old portraits at
each end of the apartment,--for instance, Zachariah Boyd, who wrote the
rhyming version of the Bible, which is still kept, safe from any critical
eye, in the library of the University to which he presented this, besides
other more valuable benefactions,--for which they have placed his bust in
a niche in the principal quadrangle; also, John Knox makes one of the row
of portraits; and a dozen or two more of Scotch worthies, all very dark
and dingy. As to the picture of Mary of Scotland, it proved to be not
hers at all, but a picture of Queen Mary, the consort of William III.,
whose portrait, together with that of her sister, Queen Anne, hangs in
the same row. We told our guide this, but he seemed unwilling to accept
it as a fact. There is a museum belonging to the University; but this,
for some reason or other, could not be shown to us just at this time, and
there was little else to show. We just looked at the gardens, but,
though of large extent, they are so meagre and bare--so unlike that
lovely shade of the Oxford gardens--that we did not care to make further
acquaintance with them.
Then we went back to our hotel, and if there were not already more than
enough of description, both past and to come, I should describe George's
Square, on one side of which the hotel is situated. A tall column rises
in the grassy centre of it, lifting far into the upper air a fine statue
of Sir Walter Scott, which we saw to great advantage last night, relieved
against the sunset sky; and there are statues of Sir John Moore, a native
of Glasgow, and of James Watt, at corners of the square. Glasgow is
certainly a noble city.
After lunch we embarked on board the steamer, and came up the Clyde. Ben
Lomond, and other Highland hills, soon appeared on the horizon; we passed
Douglas Castle on a point of land projecting into the river; and, passing
under the precipitous height of Dumbarton Castle, which we had long
before seen, came to our voyage's end at this village, where we have put
up at the Elephant Hotel.
July 2d.--After tea, not far from seven o'clock, it being a beautiful
decline of day, we set out to walk to