which stands apart from the town, and is said to have been once
surrounded by the waters of the Clyde. The rocky height on which the
castle stands is a very striking object, bulging up out of the Clyde,
with abrupt decision, to the elevation of five hundred feet. The summit
is cloven in twain, the cleft reaching nearly to the bottom on the side
towards the river, but not coming down so deeply on the landward side.
It is precipitous all around; and wherever the steepness admits, or does
not make assault impossible, there are gray ramparts round the hill, with
cannon threatening the lower world. Our path led its beneath one of
these precipices several hundred feet sheer down, and with an ivied
fragment of ruined wall at the top. A soldier who sat by the wayside
told us that this was called the "Lover's Leap," because a young girl, in
some love-exigency, had once jumped down from it, and came safely to the
bottom. We reached the castle gate, which is near the shore of the
Clyde, and there found another artillery soldier, who guided us through
the fortress. He said that there were now but about a dozen soldiers
stationed in the castle, and no officer.
The lowest battery looks towards the river, and consists of a few
twelve-pound cannon; but probably the chief danger of attack was from the
land, and the chief pains have been taken to render the castle defensible
in that quarter. There are flights of stone stairs ascending up through
the natural avenue, in the cleft of the double-summited rock; and about
midway there is an arched doorway, beneath which there used to be a
portcullis,--so that if an enemy had won the lower part of the fortress,
the upper portion was still inaccessible. Where the cleft of the rock
widens into a gorge, there are several buildings, old, but not
appertaining to the ancient castle, which has almost entirely
disappeared. We ascended both summits, and, reaching the loftiest point
on the right, stood upon the foundation of a tower that dates back to the
fifth century, whence we had a glorious prospect of Highlands and
Lowlands; the chief object being Ben Lomond, with its great dome, among a
hundred other blue and misty hills, with the sun going down over them;
and, in another direction, the Clyde, winding far downward through the
plain, with the headland of Dumbeck close at hand, and Douglas Castle at
no great distance. On the ramparts beneath us the soldier pointed out
the spot where Wallace scaled the wall, climbing an apparently
inaccessible precipice, and taking the castle. The principal parts of
the ancient castle appear to have been on the other and lower summit of
the hill, and thither we now went, and traced the outline of its wall,
although none of it is now remaining. Here is the magazine, still
containing some powder, and here is a battery of eighteen-pound guns,
with pyramids of balls, all in readiness against an assault; which,
however, hardly any turn of human affairs can hereafter bring about. The
appearance of a fortress is kept up merely for ceremony's sake; and these
cannon have grown antiquated. Moreover, as the soldier told us, they are
seldom or never fired, even for purposes of rejoicing or salute, because
their thunder produces the singular effect of depriving the garrison of
water. There is a large tank, and the concussion causes the rifts of the
stone to open, and thus lets the water out. Above this battery, and
elsewhere about the fortress, there are warders' turrets of stone,
resembling great pepper-boxes. When Dr. Johnson visited the castle, he
introduced his bulky person into one of these narrow receptacles, and
found it difficult to get out again. A gentleman who accompanied him was
just stepping forward to offer his assistance, but Boswell whispered him
to take no notice, lest Johnson should be offended; so they left him to
get out as he could. He did finally extricate himself, else we might
have seen his skeleton in the turret. Boswell does not tell this story,
which seems to have been handed down by local tradition.
The less abrupt declivities of the rock are covered with grass, and
afford food for a few sheep, who scamper about the heights, and seem to
have attained the dexterity of goats in clambering. I never knew a purer
air than this seems to be, nor a lovelier golden sunset.
Descending into the gorge again, we went into the armory, which is in one
of the buildings occupying the space between the two hill-tops. It
formerly contained a large collection of arms; but these have been
removed to the Tower of London, and there are now only some tattered
banners, of which I do not know the history, and some festoons of
pistols, and grenades, shells, and grape and canister shot, kept merely
as curiosities; and, far more interesting than the above, a few
battle-axes, daggers, and spear-heads from the field of Bannockburn; and,
more interesting still, the sword of William Wallace. It is a
formidable-looking weapon, made for being swayed with both hands, and,
with its hilt on the floor, reached about to my chin; but the young girl
who showed us the armory said that about nine inches had been broken off
the point. The blade was not massive, but somewhat thin, compared with
its great length; and I found that I could blandish it, using both hands,
with perfect ease. It is two-edged, without any gaps, and is quite brown
and lustreless with old rust, from point to hilt.
These were all the memorables of our visit to Dumbarton Castle, which is
a most interesting spot, and connected with a long series of historical
events. It was first besieged by the Danes, and had a prominent share in
all the warfare of Scotland, so long as the old warlike times and manners
lasted. Our soldier was very intelligent and courteous, but, as usual
with these guides, was somewhat apocryphal in his narrative; telling us
that Mary, Queen of Scots, was confined here before being taken to
England, and that the cells in which she then lived are still extant,
under one of the ramparts. The fact is, she was brought here when a
child of six years old, before going to France, and doubtless scrambled
up and down these heights as freely and merrily as the sheep we saw.
We now returned to our hotel, a very nice one, and found the street of
Dumbarton all alive in the summer evening with the sports of children and
the gossip of grown people. There was almost no night, for at twelve
o'clock there was still a golden daylight, and Yesterday, before it died,
must have met the Morrow.
In the lower part of the fortress there is a large sun-dial of stone,
which was made by a French officer imprisoned here during the Peninsular
war. It still numbers faithfully the hours that are sunny, and it is a
lasting memorial of him, in the stronghold of his enemies.