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THE GENIUS OF SCOTLAND;
Or
Sketches of Scottish Scenery, Literature and Religion.
by
REV. ROBERT TURNBULL
FOURTH EDITION.
New York:
Robert Carter, 58 Canal Street
1848.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847,
by Robert Carter,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
Stereotyped by Thomas B. Smith,
216 William Street, New York
PREFACE.
Having been born and educated in Scotland, and possessing a tolerable
acquaintance with its History and Literature, the Author of the
following Work felt that he had some facilities for giving to the people
of this country a just idea of his native Land. The plan of his work is
somewhat new, combining in a larger degree, than he has hitherto seen
attempted, descriptions of Scenery, with Literary and Biographical
Sketches, portraitures of character social and religious, incidents of
travel, and reflections on matters of local or general interest. Hence
he has omitted many things which a mere tourist would not fail to
notice, and supplied their place with sketches of more enduring
interest. He would particularly invite attention to the sketches of
Knox, Burns, Wilson, Chalmers, Bruce, 'The Ettrick Shepherd,' and Sir
Walter Scott. His rambles through fair or classic scenes are thus
enlivened with useful information. In a word, it has been his endeavor,
in an easy natural way, to give his readers an adequate conception of
the Scenery, Literature, and Religion of Scotland.
HARTFORD, CONN.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface 1
CHAPTER I.
Beauty an Element of the Mind--Our Native Land--Auld Lang Syne--General
Description of Scotland--Extent of Population--Spirit of the People--The
Highlands--The Lowlands--Burns's 'Genius of Scotland'--Natural and Moral
Aspects of the Country--'The Cotter's Saturday Night'--Sources of
Prosperity 11
CHAPTER II.
The city of Edinburgh--Views from Arthur's Seat--The Poems of
Richard Gall--'Farewell to Ayrshire'--'Arthur's Seat, a
Poem'--Extracts--Craigmillar Castle--The Forth, Roslin Castle
and the Pentland Hills--Liberty 32
CHAPTER III.
Walk to the Castle--The Old Wynds and their Occupants--Regalia of
Scotland--Storming of the Castle--Views from its Summit--Heriot's
Hospital--Other Hospitals--St. Giles's Cathedral--Changes--The
Spirit of Protestantism 42
CHAPTER IV.
John Knox's House--History of the Reformer--His Character--Carlyle's
View--Testimony of John Milton 53
CHAPTER V.
Edinburgh University--Professor Wilson--His Life and Writings, Genius
and Character 62
CHAPTER VI.
The Calton Hill--Burns's Monument--Character and Writings of 'the
Peasant Poet'--His Religious Views--Monument of Professor Dugald
Stewart--Scottish Metaphysics--Thomas Carlyle 77
CHAPTER VII.
Preaching in Edinburgh--The Free Church--Dr. Chalmers--A Specimen
of his Preaching--The Secret of his Eloquence 99
CHAPTER VIII.
Biographical Sketch of Dr. Chalmers 113
CHAPTER IX.
Dr. John Brown of Edinburgh--Rev. John Brown of Whiteburn--Professor
John Brown of Haddington--Rev. Dr. Candlish--Specimen of his
Preaching 126
CHAPTER X.
Ride into the Country--The Skylark--Poems on the Skylark by
Shelley and the 'Ettrick Shepherd'--Newhall--'The Gentle
Shepherd'--Localities and Outlines of the Story--Its Popularity
in Scotland 138
CHAPTER XI.
Biographical Sketch of Allan Ramsay--Lasswade--Ramble along the
banks of the North Esk--Glenesk--A Character--Anecdote of Sir
Walter Scott--Hawthornden--Drummond, the Poet--His Character
and Genius--Sonnets--Chapel and Castle of Roslin--Barons of
Roslin--Ballad of Rosabella--Hunting Match between Robert Bruce
and Sir William St. Clair 157
CHAPTER XII.
Ramble through the Fields--Parish Schools--Recollections of Dominie
Meuross--The South Esk--Borthwick and Crichtoun Castles--New Battle
Abbey--Dalkeith--Residence of the Duke of Buccleugh--'Scotland's
Skaith,' by Hector Macneil--His Character and Writings--Extracts
from the 'History of Will and Jean' 183
CHAPTER XIII.
City of Glasgow--Spirit of the Place--Trade and Manufactures--The
Broomielaw--Steam--George's Square--Monuments to Sir Walter Scott,
Sir John Moore, and James Watt--Sketch of the Life of Watt--Glasgow
University--Reminiscences--Brougham--Sir D. K. Sandford--Professor
Nichol and others--High Kirk, or Glasgow Cathedral--Martyrdom
of Jerome Russel and John Kennedy 197
CHAPTER XIV.
The Necropolis--Jewish Burial Place--Monument to John Knox--Monuments
of William Macgavin and Dr. Dick--Reminiscences--Character and
Writings of Dr. Dick--Pollok and 'the Course of Time'--Grave of
Motherwell--Sketch of his Life--His Genius and Poetry--'Jeanie
Morrison'--'My Heid is like to rend, Willie'--'A Summer Sabbath
Noon' 209
CHAPTER XV.
Dumbarton Castle--Lochlomond--Luss--Ascent of Benlomond--Magnificent
Views--Ride to Loch-Katrine--Rob Roy Macgregor--'Gathering of Clan
Gregor'--Loch-Katrine and the Trosachs--The City of Perth--Martyrdom
of Helen Stark and her husband 231
CHAPTER XVI.
Sabbath Morning--'The Sabbath,' by James Grahame--Sketch of his
Life--Extracts from his Poetry--The Cameronians--'Dream of the
Martyrs,' by James Hislop--Sabbath Morning Walk--Country Church--The
Old Preacher--The Interval of Worship--Conversation in the
Church-yard--Going Home from Church--Sabbath Evening 244
CHAPTER XVII.
Lochleven--Escape of Queen Mary from Lochleven Castle--Michael
Bruce--Sketch of his Life--Boyhood--College
Life--Poetry--'Lochleven'--Sickness--'Ode to Spring'--Death--'Ode
to the Cuckoo' 260
CHAPTER XVIII.
Dunfermline--Ruins of the Abbey--Grave of Robert Bruce--Malcolm
Canmore's Palace--William Henryson, the poet--William Dunbar--Stirling
Castle--Views from its Summit--City of Stirling--George Buchanan
and Dr. Arthur Johnston--Falkirk--Linlithgow--Story of the Capture
of Linlithgow Castle--Spirit of War--Arrival in Edinburgh 284
CHAPTER XIX.
Journey to Peebles--Characters--Conversation on Politics--Scottish
Peasantry--Peebles--'Christ's Kirk on the Green'--A Legend--An old
Church--The Banks of the Tweed--Its ancient Castles--The Alarm
Fire--Excursion to the Vales of Ettrick and Yarrow--Stream of
Yarrow--St. Mary's Lake and Dryhope Tower--'The Dowie Dens of
Yarrow'--Growth of Poetry--Ballads and Poems on Yarrow by Hamilton,
Logan and Wordsworth 295
CHAPTER XX.
Hamlet and Church-yard of Ettrick--Monument to Thomas
Boston--Birth-place of the Ettrick Shepherd--Altrieve
Cottage--Biographical Sketch of the Ettrick Shepherd--The Town of
Selkirk--Monument to Sir Walter Scott--Battle-field of Philiphangh 319
CHAPTER XXI.
Return to the Banks of the Tweed--Abbotsford--The Study--Biographical
Sketch of Sir Walter Scott--His Early Life--Residence in the
Country--Spirit of Romance--Education--First Efforts as an
Author--Success of 'Marmion'--Character of his Poetry--Literary
Change--His Novels--Pecuniary Difficulties--Astonishing
Efforts--Last Sickness--Death and Funeral 334
CHAPTER XXII.
Melrose Abbey--The Eildon Hills--Thomas the Rhymer--Dryburgh--Monuments
to the Author of 'The Seasons' and Sir William Wallace--Kelso--Beautiful
Scenery--A Pleasant Evening--Biographical Sketch of Leyden, Poet,
Antiquary, Scholar and Traveller--The Duncan Family--Journey
Resumed--Twisel Bridge--Battle of Flodden--Norham Castle--Berwick
upon Tweed--Biographical Sketch of Thomas Mackay Wilson, author of 'The
Border Tales'--Conclusion--'Auld Lang Syne' 351
GENIUS OF SCOTLAND.
CHAPTER I.
Beauty an Element of the Mind--Our Native Land--Auld Lang
Syne--General Description of Scotland--Extent of Population--Spirit
of the People--The Highlands--The Lowlands--Burns's 'Genius of
Scotland'--Natural and Moral Aspects of the Country--'The Cotter's
Saturday Night'--Sources of Prosperity.
The theory has become prevalent among philosophers, and even among
literary men, that beauty is more an element of the mind than of
external objects. Things, say they, are not what they seem. Their
aspects are ever varying with the minds which gaze upon them. They
change even under the eyes of the same individuals. A striking
illustration of this may be found in the opening stanza of Wordsworth's
Ode to Immortality.
There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,
The earth and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
It is the mind then, which transfers its own ethereal colors to the
forms of matter, and invests scenes and places with new and peculiar
attractions. Like the light of the moon streaming through a leafy grove
and transforming its darkness into its own radiant beauty, the spirit of
man diffuses its own inspiration through the universe,
"Making all nature
Beauty to the eye and music to the ear."
Now if this theory be true, it follows that no country will appear to us
so beautiful as the one which happens to be endeared to our hearts by
early recollections and pleasant associations. No matter how rude and
wild,--that spot of all others on earth, will appear to us the sweetest
and most attractive! 'New England,' says a native of Massachusetts or of
Vermont, 'is the glory of all lands. No hills and vales are more
picturesque than hers, no rivers more clear and beautiful.' 'Visit
Naples, and die!' exclaims the Neapolitan, proud of his classic home.
'Green Erin, my darling,' is the fond language of the Hibernian, 'first
gem of the ocean, first flower of the sea.' 'Here's a health,' shouts
the native of Caledonia, 'bonny Scotland to thee!' Others may speak
disparagingly of the sour climate and barren soil of Scotland; but to a
native of that country, the land of his fathers is invested with all the
charms of poetry and romance. Every spot of its varied surface is
hallowed ground. He sees its rugged rocks and desolate moors mantled
with the hoary memories of by-gone days, the thrilling associations of
childhood and youth. Therefore, with a meaning and emphasis, which all
who love their native land will appreciate, he appropriates the words of
the poet:--
Land of the forest and the rock,
Of dark blue lake and mighty river,
Of mountains reared aloft to mock,
The storm's career, the lightning's shock,
My own green land forever!
Land of the beautiful and brave!
The freeman's home, the martyr's grave!
The nursery of giant men,
Whose deeds have linked with every glen,
The magic of a warrior's name!
Does not Scotland, however inferior, in some respects it may be deemed
to other lands, possess a peculiar charm to all cultivated minds?[1]
What visions of ancient glory cluster around the time-honored name!
What associations of 'wild native grandeur,'--of wizard beauty, and
rough magnificence. What gleams of 'poetic sunlight,'--what
recollections of martial daring by flood and field,--what hallowed faith
and burning zeal,--what martyr toils and martyr graves, monuments of
freedom's struggles and freedom's triumphs in moor or glen,--what
'lights and shadows' of love and passion,--what ancient songs, echoing
among the hills,--what blessed sabbath calm,--what lofty inspiration of
the Bible and covenant,--in a word, what dear and hallowed memories of
that 'Auld lang syne,' indigenous only to Scotland, though known
throughout the world! Should this be deemed enthusiastic, let it, and
all else of a similar character which may be found in this volume, be
ascribed to a natural and not unpardonable feeling on the part of the
writer. The remembrance of 'Auld lang syne' can never be extinguished.
Except the hope of heaven, it is our best and holiest heritage.
[Footnote 1: The following eloquent passage from an address by the
Honorable Edward Everett, before the "Scots' Charitable Society,"
Boston, well illustrates the fact referred to.
"Not to speak of the worthies of ages long passed; of the Knoxes, the
Buchanans, and the early minstrelsy of the border; the land of your
fathers, sir, since it ceased to be a separate kingdom, has, through the
intellect of her gifted sons, acquired a supremacy over the minds of men
more extensive and more enduring, than that of Alexander or Augustus. It
would be impossible to enumerate them all,--the Blairs of the last
generation, the Chalmerses of this; the Robertsons, and Humes; the
Smiths, the Reids, the Stuarts, the Browns; the Homes, the Mackenzies;
the Mackintoshes, the Broughams, the Jeffreys, with their distinguished
compeers, both on physical and moral science. The Marys and the
Elizabeths, the Jameses and the Charleses will be forgotten, before
these names will perish from the memory of men. And when I add to them
those other illustrious names--Burns, Campbell, Byron, and Scott, may I
not truly say, sir, that the throne and the sceptre of England will
crumble into dust like those of Scotland: and Windsor Castle and
Westminster Abbey will lie in ruins as poor and desolate as those of
Scone and Iona, before the lords of Scottish song shall cease to reign
in the hearts of men.
For myself, sir, I confess that I love Scotland. I have reason to do so.
I have trod the soil of the
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
I have looked up to the cloud-capt summit of Ben Lomond; have glided
among the fairy islets of Loch Katrine; and from the battlements of
Stirling Castle, have beheld the links of Forth sparkling in the morning
sun. I have done more, sir; I have tasted that generous hospitality of
Scotland, which her Majesty's Consul has so justly commemorated; I have
held converse with her most eminent sons; I have made my pilgrimage to
Melrose Abbey, in company with that modern magician, who, mightier than
the magician of old that sleeps beneath the marble floor of its chancel,
has hung the garlands of immortal poesy upon its shattered arches, and
made its moss-clad ruins a shrine, to be visited by the votary of the
muse from the remotest corners of the earth, to the end of time. Yes,
sir, musing as I did, in my youth, over the sepulchre of the wizard,
once pointed out by the bloody stain of the cross and the image of the
archangel:--standing within that consecrated enclosure, under the
friendly guidance of him whose genius has made it holy ground; while
every nerve within me thrilled with excitement, my fancy kindled with
the inspiration of the spot. I seemed to behold, not the vision so
magnificently described by the minstrel,--the light, which, as the tomb
was opened,
broke forth so gloriously,
Streamed upward to the chancel roof,
And through the galleries far aloof:
But I could fancy that I beheld, with sensible perception, the brighter
light, which had broken forth from the master mind; which had streamed
from his illumined page all-gloriously upward, above the pinnacles of
worldly grandeur, till it mingled its equal beams, with that of the
brightest constellations, in the intellectual firmament of England."]
As 'Auld Lang Syne' brings Scotland one and all,
Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills and clear streams,
The Dee, the Don, Balgownies brig's black wall,
All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams
Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall,
Like Banquo's offspring; floating past me seems
My childhood, in this childishness of mind;
I care not;--'tis a glimpse of 'Auld Lang Syne.'
BYRON.
Beautiful is New England, resembling as she does, in many of her
features, 'Auld Scotia's hills and dales,' and moreover being much akin
to her, in religious sentiment and the love of freedom; so that a native
of either might well be forgiven for clinging with peculiar fondness to
the land of his birth, and, in certain moods of mind, prefering it to
all the world beside. Though far away, and even loving the place of his
estrangement, he cannot, if he would, altogether renounce those ties
which bind him to his early home. A 'viewless chain,' which crosses
ocean and continent, conveys from the one to the other that subtle, yet
gracious influence, which is quicker and stronger than the lightning's
gleam. Let no one then be surprised if a Scotsman in New England, the
cherished land of his adoption, should solace his mind with the
recollection of early days, and endeavor to set before others the
characteristic beauties and excellences of his native country.
O Caledonia, stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! What mortal hand,
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
"Scotland," as one of her own sons has expressed it, "is a wee bit
country," but possessed of "muckle pith and spirit." Its surface is
rough and mountainous, with beautiful patches of rich arable land along
the courses of its streams, and extensive level meadows, called Carses,
as the Carse of Falkirk, and the Carse of Gowrie. It is of unequal
breadth, being much indented with bays and creeks, and stretches some
two hundred and eighty miles in length, reckoning from its most
southerly point, the Mull of Galloway, to Dunnet's Head, its most
northern extremity. This probably would be a little farther than from
"Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groat's," the "from Dan to Beersheba" of
Scotland. Clustering around its western and northern sides are the
Hebrides, the Shetland and the Orkney islands; wild and rocky isles,
with rude and primitive inhabitants, constituting the Ultima Thule of
Great Britain. In Scotland, a considerable portion of the land is
uncultivated, consisting of heathy hills, mountains and moors; and the
most of that which is cultivated has been rendered productive by the
hand of art and industry. Like Switzerland, it is comparatively a poor
country, but has been made rich by the generative powers of mind. Her
wealth consists in the brawny arms and vigorous intellects of her sons.
The climate is cold and variable, though milder in winter than that of
New England, and in summer cooler, and upon the whole, more agreeable,
except when dense fogs and long-continued rains prevail.
The population is over two millions and a half, and is gradually
increasing, though the people, like those of New England, are greatly
given to migration, and may be found in every part of the world. Its
commerce and manufactures are, for its size, very extensive. They have
increased, since 1814, from twenty-five to thirty per cent. Agriculture
and the mechanic arts have been carried to a high degree of perfection.
While the people are characteristically cautious and slow, "looking
before they leap," to quote one of their favorite proverbs, they are
bold and enterprising, and thus leap long and successfully. Few nations
have accomplished so much in literature or trade, in science or the arts
of industry. Their highest distinction, however, consists in their
spirit of love and fealty, their leal-heartedness, their contempt of
sham, their passionate love of freedom, their zeal for God and the
truth! Obstinate and wrong-headed at times, characteristically dogmatic,
and perhaps a little intolerant, their very faults lean to virtue's
side, and go to the support of goodness. Their punctiliousness and
pride, their dogged adherence to what they conceive to be right, and
their vehement mode of defending it, constitute the rough and prickly
bark which defends the precious tree. One thing is certain, they are
transparent as daylight, and honest as their own heathy hills.
They are preeminently a religious people, protestant to the backbone,
occasionally rough and impetuous in the expression of their opinions,
but never formal, never indecorous. A profound enthusiasm, bordering on
fanaticism, a passionate, though not boisterous or canting devotion, a
fine sense of the grand and beautiful, intermingled with a keen
conscientiousness, an ardent love of freedom, with a boundless trust in
God, form the great elements of their religious life. Their theology is
chiefly Calvinistic, apparently philosophical and dogmatic, but rather
less so than popular and practical. Of cathedrals, old and dim, of
masses, chants and processions, the pomp and circumstance of a
magnificent ritual, they have none.[2] But of old and glorious memories,
solemn temples among the woods and hills, hallowed grave-yards, blessed
sacraments, and national enthusiasm, they have abundance. Their religion
is a part of the soil. It is indigenous to the country. It grew up among
the mountains, was nursed by 'wizard streams,' and 'led forth' with the
voice of psalms, among 'the green pastures of the wilderness.' Somewhat
forbidding at first, like the rough aspect of the country, it appears
equally picturesque and beautiful, when really known and loved. It is
the religion not of form but of substance, of deep inward emotion, not
of outward pretension and show. Neither is it a sickly sentimentalism
which lives on poetic musings, and matures only in cloistered shades and
moonlight groves; but it is a healthy, robust principle which goes forth
to do and to suffer the will of Heaven. Its head and heart are sound,
and its works praise it in the gate. Beautiful as the visions of fancy,
it is yet strong as the everlasting hills among which it was reared. In
a word, it is the religion of faith and love, the religion of the old
puritans, of the martyrs and confessors of primitive times. Welling out
forever from the unstained fountains of the Word of God, it has marked
its course over the fair face of Scotland, with the greenest verdure,
the sweetest flowers.
[Footnote 2: This is spoken, of course, of the great body of the
people.]
Scotland is naturally divided into Highlands and Lowlands. The former
includes, besides the various groups of islands on the north and
north-west coast, the counties of Argyle, Inverness, Nairn, Ross,
Cromarty, Sutherland and Caithness, with portions of Dumbarton,
Stirling, Perth, Forfar, "Aberdeen awa," Banff and Elgin, or the more
northerly regions of the country, protected and beautified by the mighty
range of the Grampians, commencing at the southern extremity of Loch
Etive, and terminating at the mouth of the Dee on the eastern coast. The
Highlands again are divided into two unequal portions by the beautiful
chain of lochs, or lakes running through the Glenmore-Nan-Albin, or
Great Glen of Caledonia, forming some of the wildest and richest scenery
in the world. To the north are the giant mountains of Macdui, Cairngorm,
Ben-Aven and Ben-More, while nearer the Lowlands, rise the lofty
Ben-Lomond, and the hoary Ben-Awe. Under their shadows gleam the storied
lochs, the wild tarns and trosachs, whose picturesque and romantic
beauties have been immortalized by the pens of Burns, Scott, and Wilson.
To the south and east of the Grampian range, and running parallel to
them, you discover a chain of lower and more verdant hills, bearing the
well known and poetical names of the Sidlaw, Campsie and Ochil hills.
These are divided by the fertile valleys of the Tay and Forth. Between
them and the Grampians lies the low and charming valley of Strathmore.
The "silver Tay," one of the finest rivers in Scotland, rises in
Breadalbane, expands into lake Dochart, flows in an easterly direction
through the vale of Glendochart, expands again into the long and
beautiful Loch Tay, which runs like a belt of silver among the hills,
whence issuing, it receives various accessions from other streams,
passes on in a southerly direction to Dunkeld, famous for its ancient
Abbey and lovely scenery, skirts the ancient and delightful city of
Perth, below which it is joined by its great tributary the Earn, which
flows, in serpentine windings, through the rich vale of Strath-Earn,
touches the populous and thriving town of Dundee, and gradually widens
into the Firth of Tay, whose clear waters mirror the white skiff or
magnificent steamer, and imperceptibly mingle with the waves of the
Northern Sea. Further north, the rapid Spey, springing from the 'braes
of Badenoch' near Lochaber, passes tumultuously through a rough and
mountainous country, lingering occasionally, as if to rest itself in
some deep glen, crosses the ancient province of Moray, famous for its
floods, so admirably described by Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, passes
Kinrara, "whence, for a few miles, it is attended by a series of
landscapes, alike various, singular and magnificent," after which, it
moves, with a monotonous aspect, and a steady pace, to the sea. Portions
of the country through which this river passes are exceedingly sterile
and wild. Covered with the birch, the alder and the pine, varied by
rugged rocks and desolate moors, it admirably corresponds to our
notions of Caledonia, in her ancient and primitive integrity.
In the more remote and northern regions of the Highlands, and in most of
the Scottish isles, the Gaelic, or Erse, a primitive and energetic
tongue, somewhat akin to the Welsh or Irish, is spoken by a majority of
the inhabitants. In other parts of Scotland, the English, with a
Scottish idiom, is the prevalent speech. The literature of the Gaelic is
exceedingly limited, confined chiefly to old ballads, songs and
traditionary stories. The poems of Ossian are doubtless the production
of Macpherson, their professed translator, while they probably contain a
few translated fragments, and some traditionary facts and conceptions
afloat among the Highlanders, ingeniously interwoven with the main
fabric of the work.
The Highlanders are a simple-hearted, primitive race, mostly poor, and
imperfectly educated. Those of them that are wealthy and well educated,
are said to be remarkably acute, courteous, and agreeable.
The Lowlands of Scotland comprehend the south and southeastern portions
of the country, and though not the grandest and most romantic, are by
far the best cultivated, and in some respects the most beautiful.
Including the level ground on the eastern coast to the south of the
Moray Firth, they stretch along the coast through portions of
Perthshire, and the old kingdom of Fife, towards the regions bounded on
either side, by the river and the Firth of Forth, and thence to
Kircudbright and the English border, including the principal cities,
the most fertile tracts of arable land, the rivers Forth, Clyde and
Tweed, and the range of the Cheviot hills, which extend from the north
of England towards the north-west, join the Louther hills in the region
of Ettrick and Yarrow, with their 'silver streams,' pass through the
southern part of Ayrshire and terminate at Loch Ryan, in the Irish
Channel. The Clyde is the most important commercial river in Scotland.
Taking its origin among the mountains of the south, not far from the
early home of its beautiful and more classic sisters, the Tweed and the
Annan, it runs in many capricious windings, in a northwesterly
direction, leaps in foaming cascades first at Bonnington, and then at
Cora Linn, rushes on through the fine country of Lanarkshire, till,
joined by many tributary streams, it passes through the large and
flourishing city of Glasgow, bearing upon its bosom the vast commerce
and population of the neighboring regions, flows around the walls of old
Dumbarton Castle, with its time-worn battlements and glorious memories,
in sight, too, of the lofty Ben Lomond, and the beautiful lake which it
protects, touches the ancient city of Greenock, expands into the Firth
of Clyde, and gradually loses itself amid the picturesque islands which
adorn the western coast of Scotland.
Were it possible, by placing ourselves upon some lofty elevation, to
take in at one glance, the whole of this varied landscape of lake,
river, and mountain; of tarn, trosach and moor, with verdant vales, and
woody slopes between, we should confess that it was one of as rare
beauty and wild magnificence as ever greeted the vision of man. And were
our minds steeped in ancient and poetic lore, we should be prepared to
appreciate the faithfulness and splendor of Burns's allegorical
description of the "Genius of Scotland."
"Green, slender, leaf-clad holly boughs,
Were twisted gracefu' round her brows,
I took her for some Scottish Muse,
By that same token,
And come to stop those reckless vows
Would soon be broken.
A hair-brained sentimental trace,
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly witty-rustic grace,
Shone full upon her,
Her eye e'en turned on empty space,
Beamed keen with honor.
Her mantle large, of greenish hue,
My gazing wonder chiefly drew,
Deep _lights and shadows_ mingling threw
A lustre grand;
And seemed, to my astonished view
A _well known land_!
Here rivers in the sea were lost;
There mountains in the skies were tost;
Here tumbling billows marked the coast,
With surging foam;
There, distant shone, Art's lofty boast,
The lordly dome.
Here Doon poured down his far-fetched floods;
There well fed Irwine stately thuds:
Auld hermit Ayr staw through his woods,
On to the shore;
And many a lesser torrent scuds
With seeming roar.
Low in a sandy valley spread,
An ancient _borough_ reared her head
Still as in Scottish story read,
She boasts a race,
To every nobler virtue bred,
And polished grace.
By stately tower or palace fair
Or ruins pendent in the air
Bold stems of heroes here and there,
I could discern;
Some seemed to muse, some seemed to dare
With feature stern."
Now, imagine the whole of this country, studded at no remote intervals,
with churches and schools well supported, and well attended by young and
old. Think of her ancient and able Universities, Edinburgh, Glasgow, St.
Andrews, and Aberdeen, including in the last, Marischal College and
Kings College, with an average attendance of from 2500 to 3000 students,
with their learned and amiable professors, extensive libraries, and fine
collections in Natural History. Think of her innumerable high schools,
private schools, public and private libraries, literary institutes and
ancient hospitals, some for the body and some for the mind, and connect
the whole with her heroic history, her poetical enthusiasm, her
religious faith, her fealty to God and man, and you will have some faint
conception of the beauty and glory of Scotland.
But the impression would be deepened, could you behold the land,
beautified and ennobled by her sabbath calm, as once in seven days, she
rests and worships before the Lord. Could you but hear the voice of her
church-going bells, and go to the house of God, in company with her
thoughtful but cheerful population; could you sit in some "auld warld"
kirk, and hear some grey-haired holy man dispense, with deep and tender
tones, the word of everlasting life; could you hear a whole congregation
of devout worshippers make the hills ring again, with their simple
melody; above all, could you place yourself in some deep shady glen, by
the "sweet burnie," as it "wimples" among the waving willows, or the
yellow broom, or sit down on the green "brae side," enamelled with
"gowans," on some sacramental occasion, when thousands are gathered to
hear the preaching of the gospel, and with simple ritual, to commemorate
the dying love of the Redeemer! Could you see the devout and happy looks
of the aged, and the sweet but reverent aspect of children and youth, as
the tones of some earnest preacher thrilled them with emotions of holy
gratitude, in view of the "loving kindness of the Lord," you would
instinctively feel that Scotland,--free, Protestant Scotland, was a
happy land, and would be prepared to exclaim with the sweet singer of
Israel: "Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound, they shall
walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance."
"How with religious awe impressed
They open lay the guileless breast;
And youth and age with fears distressed
All due prepare,
The symbols of eternal rest
Devout to share.
How down ilk lang withdrawing hill,
Successive crowds the valleys fill;
While pure religious converse still
Beguiles the way,
And gives a cast to youthful will,
To suit the day.
How placed along the sacred board,
Their hoary pastor's looks adored,--
His voice with peace and blessing stored,
Sent from above,
And faith and hope, and joy afford
And boundless love.
O'er this with warm seraphic glow,
Celestial beings pleased bow;
And whispered hear the holy vow,
'Mid grateful tears;
And mark amid such scenes below
Their future peers."[3]
[Footnote 3: Letter to Robert Burns, by Mr. Telford, of Shrewsbury, a
native of Scotland.]
Or you might leave this scene, and study the Scottish character with
some shepherd boy on the hills, as he reads God's word upon the
greensward, and meditates on things divine, while tending his flocks far
from the house of God, on the sabbath day, a circumstance to which
Grahame in his poem of the Sabbath, has touchingly referred, and which
Telford has thus described:
"Say how, by early lessons taught,
Truth's pleasing air is willing caught!
Congenial to the untainted thought,
The shepherd boy,
Who tends his flocks on lonely height,
Feels holy joy.
Is aught on earth so lovely known,
On sabbath morn, and far alone.
His guileless soul all naked shown
Before his God--
Such prayers must welcome reach the throne
And bless'd abode.
O tell! with what a heartfelt joy
The parent eyes the virtuous boy;
And all his constant kind employ,
Is how to give
The best of _lear_ he can enjoy,
As means to live."
The scenes of "the Cotter's Saturday Night," one of the sweetest poems
in any language, are exact transcripts from real life, as Burns himself
intimates. His father was "a godly man," and was wont, morning and
evening, to "turn o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, the big ha' Bible," and
worship God, with his family. Where in Italy or in Austria will you meet
aught so beautiful or thrilling as the following?
"The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They round the ingle form a circle wide,
The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace
The big _ha' Bible_ ance his father's pride:
His bonnet reverently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets[4] wearing thin and bare:
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And 'Let us worship God!' he says with solemn air.
They chant their artless notes in simple guise,
They tune their hearts, by far their noblest aim;
Perhaps _Dundee's_ wild warbling measures rise,
Or plaintive _Martyrs_ worthy of the name,
Or noble Elgin beats the heavenward flame,
The sweetest far of _Scotia's_ holy lays.
Compared with these Italian trills are tame;
The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise,
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
The priest-like father reads the sacred page,
How Abram was the friend of God on high,
Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry;
Or rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire;
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme:
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed,
How He who bore in Heaven the second name,
Had 'not on earth whereon to lay his head;'
How his first followers and servants sped;
The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
How he who lone in Patmos banished,
Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal King,
The saint, the father, and the husband prays,
Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,
That thus they all shall meet in future days:
There ever bask in uncreated rays,
No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear,
Together hymning their Creator's praise,
In such society, yet still more dear;
While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Compared with this how poor religion's pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art,
When men display to congregations wide,
Devotion's every grace except the heart;
The Power incensed the pageant will desert,
The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
But haply in some cottage far apart,
May hear well pleased the language of the soul,
And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll."
[Footnote 4: Withered cheeks.]
These are the elements of a people's greatness. These are the perennial
sources of their ruth and loyalty, their freedom and virtue. These guard
the domestic graces, these bind the commonwealth in holy and enduring
bands. Better than splendid mausoleums and gorgeous temples, better than
costly altars and a pompous ritual, better than organ blasts and rolling
incense, better by far than mass and breviary, confessional and priestly
absolution! For while the most imposing forms of Religion are often
heartless and dead, these sacred rites of a Christianity pure and
practical, ever possess a vital power,--a power to quicken and save.
"From scenes like these auld Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad;
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
'An honest man's the noblest work of God.'
* * * * *
O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil,
Be blest with health and peace and sweet content!
And oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent
From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
Then howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
A virtuous populace may rise the while,
And stand a wall of fire around their much loved Isle."
But we have dwelt long enough on general topics. If the reader will
accompany us, we will ramble together in some particular scenes,
meditating, as we go, on things new and old, and chatting, in lively or
in sombre mood, as the humor may seize us. First of all then, let us
visit "Auld Reekie," as the inhabitants often call it, or more
classically, "the modern Athens," the beautiful and far famed metropolis
of Scotland.