DIARY CONTINUED. -- CAVE OF EGG. -- IONA. -- STAFFA. --
DUNSTAFFNAGE. -- DUNLUCE CASTLE. -- GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. -- ISLE OF
ARRAN, ETC. --DIARY CONCLUDED
1814
"_26th August, 1814._--At seven this morning were in the Sound which
divides the Isle of Rum from that of Egg. Rum is rude, barren, and
mountainous; Egg, although hilly and rocky, and traversed by one
remarkable ridge called Scuir-Egg, has, in point of soil, a much
more promising appearance. Southward of both lies Muick, or Muck, a
low and fertile island, and though the least, yet probably the most
valuable of the three. Caverns being still the order of the day, we
man the boat and row along the shore of Egg, in quest of that which
was the memorable scene of a horrid feudal vengeance. We had rounded
more than half the island, admiring the entrance of many a bold
natural cave which its rocks exhibit, but without finding that which
we sought, until we procured a guide. This noted cave has a very
narrow entrance, through which one can hardly creep on knees and
hands. It rises steep and lofty within, and runs into the bowels of
the rock to the depth of 255 measured feet. The height at the
entrance may be about three feet, but rises to eighteen or twenty,
and the breadth may vary in the same proportion. The rude and stony
bottom of this cave is strewed with the bones of men, women, and
children, being the sad relics of the ancient inhabitants of the
island, 200 in number, who were slain on the following occasion: The
Macdonalds of the Isle of Egg, a people dependent on Clanranald, had
done some injury to the Laird of Macleod. The tradition of the isle
says, that it was by a personal attack on the chieftain, in which
his back was broken; but that of the other isles bears that the
injury was offered to two or three of the Macleods, who, landing
upon Egg and using some freedom with the young women, were seized by
the islanders, bound hand and foot, and turned adrift in a boat,
which the winds and waves safely conducted to Skye. To avenge the
offence given, Macleod sailed with such a body of men as rendered
resistance hopeless. The natives, fearing his vengeance, concealed
themselves in this cavern, and after strict search, the Macleods
went on board their galleys, after doing what mischief they could,
concluding the inhabitants had left the isle. But next morning they
espied from their vessel a man upon the island, and, immediately
landing again, they traced his retreat, by means of a light snow on
the ground, to this cavern. Macleod then summoned the subterraneous
garrison, and demanded that the individuals who had offended him
should be delivered up. This was peremptorily refused. The chieftain
thereupon caused his people to divert the course of a rill of water,
which, falling over the mouth of the cave, would have prevented his
purposed vengeance. He then kindled at the entrance of the cavern a
huge fire, and maintained it until all within were destroyed by
suffocation. The date of this dreadful deed must have been recent,
if one can judge from the fresh appearance of those relics. I
brought off, in spite of the prejudices of our sailors, a skull,
which seems that of a young woman.
"Before reëmbarking, we visit another cave opening to the sea, but
of a character widely different, being a large open vault as high as
that of a cathedral, and running back a great way into the rock at
the same height; the height and width of the opening give light to
the whole. Here, after 1745, when the Catholic priests were scarcely
tolerated, the priest of Egg used to perform the Romish service. A
huge ledge of rock, almost halfway up one side of the vault, served
for altar and pulpit; and the appearance of a priest and Highland
congregation in such an extraordinary place of worship might have
engaged the pencil of Salvator. Most of the inhabitants of Egg are
still Catholics, and laugh at their neighbors of Rum, who, having
been converted by the cane of their chieftain, are called
_Protestants of the yellow stick_. The Presbyterian minister and
Catholic priest live upon this little island on very good terms.
The people here were much irritated against the men of a revenue
vessel who had seized all the stills, etc., in the neighboring Isle
of Muck, with so much severity as to take even the people's bedding.
We had been mistaken for some time for this obnoxious vessel. Got on
board about two o'clock, and agreed to stand over for Coll, and to
be ruled by the wind as to what was next to be done. Bring up my
journal.
"_27th August, 1814._--The wind, to which we resigned ourselves,
proves exceedingly tyrannical, and blows squally the whole night,
which, with the swell of the Atlantic, now unbroken by any islands
to windward, proves a means of great combustion in the cabin. The
dishes and glasses in the steward's cupboards become
locomotive--portmanteaus and writing-desks are more active than
necessary--it is scarce possible to keep one's self within bed, and
impossible to stand upright if you rise. Having crept upon deck
about four in the morning, I find we are beating to windward off the
Isle of Tyree, with the determination on the part of Mr. Stevenson
that his constituents should visit a reef of rocks called Skerry
Vhor where he thought it would be essential to have a lighthouse.
Loud remonstrances on the part of the Commissioners, who one and all
declare they will subscribe to his opinion, whatever it may be,
rather than continue this infernal buffeting. Quiet perseverance on
the part of Mr. S., and great kicking, bouncing, and squabbling upon
that of the Yacht, who seems to like the idea of Skerry Vhor as
little as the Commissioners. At length, by dint of exertion, come in
sight of this long ridge of rocks (chiefly under water), on which
the tide breaks in a most tremendous style. There appear a few low
broad rocks at one end of the reef, which is about a mile in length.
These are never entirely under water, though the surf dashes over
them. To go through all the forms, Hamilton, Duff, and I resolve to
land upon these bare rocks in company with Mr. Stevenson. Pull
through a very heavy swell with great difficulty, and approach a
tremendous surf dashing over black pointed rocks. Our rowers,
however, get the boat into a quiet creek between two rocks, where we
contrive to land well wetted. I saw nothing remarkable in my way,
excepting several seals, which we might have shot, but, in the
doubtful circumstances of the landing, we did not care to bring
guns. We took possession of the rock in name of the Commissioners,
and generously bestowed our own great names on its crags and creeks.
The rock was carefully measured by Mr. S. It will be a most desolate
position for a lighthouse--the Bell Rock and Eddystone a joke to it,
for the nearest land is the wild island of Tyree, at fourteen miles'
distance. So much for the Skerry Vhor.
"Came on board proud of our achievement; and, to the great delight
of all parties, put the ship before the wind, and run swimmingly
down for Iona. See a large square-rigged vessel, supposed an
American. Reach Iona about five o'clock. The inhabitants of the Isle
of Columba, understanding their interest as well as if they had been
Deal boatmen, charged two guineas for pilotage, which Captain W.
abridged into fifteen shillings, too much for ten minutes' work. We
soon got on shore, and landed in the bay of Martyrs, beautiful for
its white sandy beach. Here all dead bodies are still landed, and
laid for a time upon a small rocky eminence, called the Sweyne,
before they are interred. Iona, the last time I saw it, seemed to me
to contain the most wretched people I had anywhere seen. But either
they have got better since I was here, or my eyes, familiarized with
the wretchedness of Zetland and the Harris, are less shocked with
that of Iona. Certainly their houses are better than either, and the
appearance of the people not worse. This little fertile isle
contains upwards of 400 inhabitants, all living upon small farms,
which they divide and subdivide as their families increase, so that
the country is greatly over-peopled, and in some danger of a famine
in case of a year of scarcity. Visit the nunnery and _Reilig Oran_,
or burial-place of St. Oran, but the night coming on we return on
board.
"_28th August, 1814._--Carry our breakfast ashore--take that repast
in the house of Mr. Maclean, the schoolmaster and cicerone of the
island--and resume our investigation of the ruins of the cathedral
and the cemetery. Of these monuments, more than of any other, it may
be said with propriety,--
'You never tread upon them but you set
Your feet upon some ancient history.'
I do not mean to attempt a description of what is so well known as
the ruins of Iona. Yet I think it has been as yet inadequately
performed, for the vast number of carved tombs containing the
reliques of the great exceeds credibility. In general, even in the
most noble churches, the number of the vulgar dead exceed in all
proportion the few of eminence who are deposited under monuments.
Iona is in all respects the reverse: until lately, the inhabitants
of the isle did not presume to mix their vulgar dust with that of
chiefs, reguli, and abbots. The number, therefore, of carved and
inscribed tombstones is quite marvellous, and I can easily credit
the story told by Sacheverell, who assures us that 300 inscriptions
had been collected, and were lost in the troubles of the seventeenth
century. Even now, many more might be deciphered than have yet been
made public, but the rustic step of the peasants and of Sassenach
visitants is fast destroying these faint memorials of the valiant of
the Isles. A skilful antiquary remaining here a week, and having (or
assuming) the power of raising the half-sunk monuments, might make a
curious collection. We could only gaze and grieve; yet had the day
not been Sunday, we would have brought our seamen ashore, and
endeavored to have raised some of these monuments. The celebrated
ridges called _Jomaire na'n Righrean_, or Graves of the Kings, can
now scarce be said to exist, though their site is still pointed out.
Undoubtedly, the thirst of spoil, and the frequent custom of burying
treasures with the ancient princes, occasioned their early
violation; nor am I any sturdy believer in their being regularly
ticketed off by inscriptions into the tombs of the Kings of
Scotland, of Ireland, of Norway, and so forth. If such inscriptions
ever existed, I should deem them the work of some crafty bishop or
abbot, for the credit of his diocese or convent. Macbeth is said to
have been the last King of Scotland here buried; sixty preceded him,
all doubtless as powerful in their day, but now unknown--_carent
quia vate sacro_. A few weeks' labor of Shakespeare, an obscure
player, has done more for the memory of Macbeth than all the gifts,
wealth, and monuments of this cemetery of princes have been able to
secure to the rest of its inhabitants. It also occurred to me in
Iona (as it has on many similar occasions) that the traditional
recollections concerning the monks themselves are wonderfully faint,
contrasted with the beautiful and interesting monuments of
architecture which they have left behind them. In Scotland
particularly, the people have frequently traditions wonderfully
vivid of the persons and achievements of ancient warriors, whose
towers have long been levelled with the soil. But of the monks of
Melrose, Kelso, Aberbrothock, Iona, etc., etc., etc., they can tell
nothing but that such a race existed, and inhabited the stately
ruins of these monasteries. The quiet, slow, and uniform life of
those recluse beings glided on, it may be, like a dark and silent
stream, fed from unknown resources, and vanishing from the eye
without leaving any marked trace of its course. The life of the
chieftain was a mountain torrent thundering over rock and precipice,
which, less deep and profound in itself, leaves on the minds of the
terrified spectators those deep impressions of awe and wonder which
are most readily handed down to posterity.
"Among the various monuments exhibited at Iona is one where a
Maclean lies in the same grave with one of the Macfies or Macduffies
of Colonsay, with whom he had lived in alternate friendship and
enmity during their lives. 'He lies above him during death,' said
one of Maclean's followers, as his chief was interred, 'as he was
above him during life.' There is a very ancient monument lying among
those of the Macleans, but perhaps more ancient than any of them; it
has a knight riding on horseback, and behind him a minstrel playing
on a harp: this is conjectured to be Reginald Macdonald of the
Isles, but there seems no reason for disjoining him from his kindred
who sleep in the cathedral. A supposed ancestor of the Stewarts,
called Paul Purser, or Paul the Purse-bearer (treasurer to the King
of Scotland), is said to lie under a stone near the Lords of the
Isles. Most of the monuments engraved by Pennant are still in the
same state of preservation, as are the few ancient crosses which are
left. What a sight Iona must have been, when 360 crosses, of the
same size and beautiful workmanship, were ranked upon the little
rocky ridge of eminences which form the background to the cathedral!
Part of the tower of the cathedral has fallen since I was here. It
would require a better architect than I am, to say anything
concerning the antiquity of these ruins, but I conceive those of the
nunnery and of the _Reilig nan Oran_, or Oran's chapel, are
decidedly the most ancient. Upon the cathedral and buildings
attached to it, there are marks of repairs at different times, some
of them of a late date being obviously designed not to enlarge the
buildings, but to retrench them. We take a reluctant leave of Iona,
and go on board.
"The haze and dulness of the atmosphere seem to render it dubious
if we can proceed, as we intended, to Staffa to-day--for mist among
these islands is rather unpleasant. Erskine reads prayers on deck to
all hands, and introduces a very apt allusion to our being now in
sight of the first Christian Church from which Revelation was
diffused over Scotland and all its islands. There is a very good
form of prayer for the Lighthouse Service, composed by the Rev. Mr.
Brunton.[88] A pleasure vessel lies under our lee from Belfast, with
an Irish party related to Macneil of Colonsay. The haze is fast
degenerating into downright rain, and that right heavy--verifying
the words of Collins:--
'And thither where beneath the _showery west_
The mighty Kings of three fair realms are laid.'[89]
After dinner, the weather being somewhat cleared, sailed for Staffa,
and took boat. The surf running heavy up between the island and the
adjacent rock, called Booshala, we landed at a creek near the
Cormorant's cave. The mist now returned so thick as to hide all view
of Iona, which was our land-mark; and although Duff, Stevenson, and
I had been formerly on the isle, we could not agree upon the proper
road to the cave. I engaged myself, with Duff and Erskine, in a
clamber of great toil and danger, and which at length brought me to
the _Cannon-ball_, as they call a round granite stone moved by the
sea up and down in a groove of rock, which it has worn for itself,
with a noise resembling thunder. Here I gave up my research, and
returned to my companions, who had not been more fortunate. As night
was now falling, we resolved to go aboard and postpone the adventure
of the enchanted cavern until next day. The yacht came to an anchor
with the purpose of remaining off the island all night, but the
hardness of the ground, and the weather becoming squally, obliged us
to return to our safer mooring at Y-Columb-Kill.
"_29th August, 1814._--Night squally and rainy--morning ditto--we
weigh, however, and return toward Staffa, and, very happily, the day
clears as we approach the isle. As we ascertained the situation of
the cave, I shall only make this memorandum, that when the weather
will serve, the best landing is to the lee of Booshala, a little
conical islet or rock, composed of basaltic columns placed in an
oblique or sloping position. In this way, you land at once on the
flat causeway, formed by the heads of truncated pillars, which leads
to the cave. But if the state of tide renders it impossible to land
under Booshala, then take one of the adjacent creeks; in which case,
keeping to the left hand along the top of the ledge of rocks which
girdles in the isle, you find a dangerous and precipitous descent to
the causeway aforesaid, from the table. Here we were under the
necessity of towing our Commodore, Hamilton, whose gallant heart
never fails him, whatever the tenderness of his toes may do. He was
successfully lowered by a rope down the precipice, and proceeding
along the flat terrace or causeway already mentioned, we reached the
celebrated cave. I am not sure whether I was not more affected by
this second, than by the first view of it. The stupendous columnar
side walls--the depth and strength of the ocean with which the
cavern is filled--the variety of tints formed by stalactites
dropping and petrifying between the pillars, and resembling a sort
of chasing of yellow or cream-colored marble filling the interstices
of the roof--the corresponding variety below, where the ocean rolls
over a red, and in some places a violet-colored rock, the basis of
the basaltic pillars--the dreadful noise of those august billows so
well corresponding with the grandeur of the scene--are all
circumstances elsewhere unparalleled. We have now seen in our voyage
the three grandest caverns in Scotland,--Smowe, Macallister's cave,
and Staffa; so that, like the Troglodytes of yore, we may be
supposed to know something of the matter. It is, however, impossible
to compare scenes of natures so different, nor, were I compelled to
assign a preference to any of the three, could I do it but with
reference to their distinct characters, which might affect different
individuals in different degrees. The characteristic of the Smowe
cave may in this case be called the terrific, for the difficulties
which oppose the stranger are of a nature so uncommonly wild, as,
for the first time at least, convey an impression of terror--with
which the scenes to which he is introduced fully correspond. On the
other hand, the dazzling whiteness of the incrustations in
Macallister's cave, the elegance of the entablature, the beauty of
its limpid pool, and the graceful dignity of its arch, render its
leading features those of severe and chastened beauty. Staffa, the
third of these subterraneous wonders, may challenge sublimity as its
principal characteristic. Without the savage gloom of the Smowe
cave, and investigated with more apparent ease, though, perhaps,
with equal real danger, the stately regularity of its columns forms
a contrast to the grotesque imagery of Macallister's cave, combining
at once the sentiments of grandeur and beauty. The former is,
however, predominant, as it must necessarily be in any scene of the
kind.
"We had scarce left Staffa when the wind and rain returned. It was
Erskine's object and mine to dine at Torloisk on Loch Tua, the seat
of my valued friend, Mrs. Maclean Clephane, and her accomplished
daughters. But in going up Loch Tua between Ulva and Mull with this
purpose,--
'So thick was the mist on the ocean green,
Nor cape nor headland could be seen.'[90]
It was late before we came to anchor in a small bay presented by the
little island of Gometra, which may be regarded as a continuation of
Ulva. We therefore dine aboard, and after dinner, Erskine and I take
the boat and row across the loch under a heavy rain. We could not
see the house of Torloisk, so very thick was the haze, and we were a
good deal puzzled how and where to achieve a landing; at length,
espying a cartroad, we resolved to trust to its guidance, as we knew
we must be near the house. We therefore went ashore with our
servants, _à la bonne aventure_, under a drizzling rain. This was
soon a matter of little consequence, for the necessity of crossing a
swollen brook wetted me considerably, and Erskine, whose foot
slipped, most completely. In wet and weary plight we reached the
house, after a walk of a mile, in darkness, dirt, and rain, and it
is hardly necessary to say, that the pleasure of seeing our friends
soon banished all recollection of our unpleasant voyage and journey.
"_30th August, 1814._--The rest of our friends come ashore by
invitation, and breakfast with the ladies, whose kindness would fain
have delayed us for a few days, and at last condescended to ask for
one day only--but even this could not be, our time wearing short.
Torloisk is finely situated upon the coast of Mull, facing Staffa.
It is a good comfortable house, to which Mrs. Clephane has made some
additions. The grounds around have been dressed, so as to smooth
their ruggedness, without destroying the irregular and wild
character peculiar to the scene and country. In this, much taste has
been displayed. At Torloisk, as at Dunvegan, trees grow freely and
rapidly; and the extensive plantations formed by Mrs. C. serve to
show that nothing but a little expense and patience on the part of
the proprietors, with attention to planting in proper places at
first, and in keeping up fences afterward, are a-wanting to remove
the reproach of nakedness, so often thrown upon the Western Isles.
With planting comes shelter, and the proper allotment and division
of fields. With all this Mrs. Clephane is busied, and, I trust,
successfully; I am sure, actively and usefully. Take leave of my
fair friends, with regret that I cannot prolong my stay for a day or
two. When we come on board, we learn that Staffa-Macdonald is just
come to his house of Ulva: this is a sort of unpleasant dilemma, for
we cannot now go there without some neglect towards Mrs. Maclean
Clephane; and, on the other hand, from his habits with all of us, he
may be justly displeased with our quitting his very threshold
without asking for him. However, upon the whole matter, and being
already under weigh, we judged it best to work out of the loch, and
continue our purpose of rounding the northern extremity of Mull, and
then running down the Sound between Mull and the mainland. We had
not long pursued our voyage before we found it was like to be a very
slow one. The wind fell away entirely, and after repeated tacks we
could hardly clear the extreme north-western point of Mull by six
o'clock--which must have afforded amusement to the ladies whose
hospitable entreaties we had resisted, as we were almost all the
while visible from Torloisk. A fine evening, but scarce a breath of
wind.
"_31st August, 1814._--Went on deck between three and four in the
morning, and found the vessel almost motionless in a calm sea,
scarce three miles advanced on her voyage. We had, however, rounded
the north-western side of Mull, and were advancing between the
north-eastern side and the rocky and wild shores of Ardnamurchan on
the mainland of Scotland. Astern were visible in bright moonlight
the distant mountains of Rum; yet nearer, the remarkable ridge in
the Isle of Egg, called Scuir-Egg; and nearest of all, the low isle
of Muick. After enjoying this prospect for some time, returned to my
berth. Rise before eight--a delightful day, but very calm, and the
little wind there is, decidedly against us. Creeping on slowly, we
observe, upon the shore of Ardnamurchan, a large old castle called
Mingary. It appears to be surrounded with a very high wall, forming
a kind of polygon, in order to adapt itself to the angles of a
precipice overhanging the sea, on which the castle is founded.
Within or beyond the wall, and probably forming part of an inner
court, I observed a steep roof and windows, probably of the
seventeenth century. The whole, as seen with a spy-glass, seems
ruinous. As we proceed, we open on the left hand Loch Sunart,
running deep into the mainland, crossed by distant ridges of rocks,
and terminating apparently among the high mountains above Strontian.
On the right hand we open the Sound of Mull, and pass the Bloody
Bay, which acquired that name from a desperate battle fought between
an ancient Lord of the Isles and his son. The latter was assisted by
the Macleans of Mull, then in the plenitude of their power, but was
defeated. This was a sea-fight; galleys being employed on each side.
It has bequeathed a name to a famous pibroch.
"Proceeding southward, we open the beautiful bay of Tobermory, or
Mary's Well. The mouth of this fine natural roadstead is closed by
an isle called Colvay, having two passages, of which only one, the
northerly, is passable for ships. The bay is surrounded by steep
hills, covered with copsewood, through which several brooks seek the
sea in a succession of beautiful cascades. The village has been
established as a fishing station by the Society for British
Fisheries. The houses along the quay are two and three stories high,
and well built; the feuars paying to the Society sixpence per foot
of their line of front. On the top of a steep bank, rising above the
first town, runs another line of second-rate cottages, which pay
fourpence per foot; and behind are huts, much superior to the
ordinary sheds of the country, which pay only twopence per foot. The
town is all built upon a regular plan, laid down by the Society. The
new part is reasonably clean, and the old not unreasonably dirty.
We landed at an excellent quay, which is not yet finished, and found
the little place looked thriving and active. The people were getting
in their patches of corn; and the shrill voices of the children
attending their parents in the field, and loading the little ponies
which are used in transporting the grain, formed a chorus not
disagreeable to those whom it reminds of similar sounds at home. The
praise of comparative cleanliness does not extend to the lanes
around Tobermory, in one of which I had nearly been effectually
bogged. But the richness of the round steep green knolls, clothed
with copse, and glancing with cascades, and a pleasant peep at a
small fresh-water loch embosomed among them--the view of the bay,
surrounded and guarded by the island of Colvay--the gliding of two
or three vessels in the more distant Sound--and the row of the
gigantic Ardnamurchan mountains closing the scene to the north,
almost justify the eulogium of Sacheverell, who, in 1688, declared
the bay of Tobermory might equal any prospect in Italy. It is said
that Sacheverell made some money by weighing up the treasures lost
in the Florida, a vessel of the Spanish Armada, which was wrecked in
the harbor. He himself affirms, that though the use of the
diving-bells was at first successful, yet the attempt was afterwards
disconcerted by bad weather.
"Tobermory takes its name from a spring dedicated to the Virgin,
which was graced by a chapel; but no vestiges remain of the chapel,
and the spring rises in the middle of a swamp, whose depth and dirt
discouraged the nearer approach of Protestant pilgrims. Mr.
Stevenson, whose judgment is unquestionable, thinks that the village
should have been built on the island called Colvay, and united to
the continent by a key, or causeway, built along the southernmost
channel, which is very shallow. By this means the people would have
been much nearer the fishings, than retired into the depth of the
bay.
"About three o'clock we get on board, and a brisk and favorable
breeze arises, which carries us smoothly down the Sound. We soon
pass Arros, with its fragment of a castle, behind which is the house
of Mr. Maxwell (an odd name for this country), chamberlain to the
Duke of Argyle, which reminds me of much kindness and hospitality
received from him and Mr. Stewart, the Sheriff-Substitute, when I
was formerly in Mull. On the shore of Morven, on the opposite side,
pass the ruins of a small fortalice, called Donagail, situated as
usual on a precipice overhanging the sea. The 'woody Morven,' though
the quantity of shaggy diminutive copse, which springs up where it
obtains any shelter, still shows that it must once have merited the
epithet, is now, as visible from the Sound of Mull, a bare
country--of which the hills towards the sea have a slope much
resembling those in Selkirkshire, and accordingly afford excellent
pasture, and around several farmhouses well-cultivated and improved
fields. I think I observe considerable improvement in husbandry,
even since I was here last: but there is a difference in coming from
Oban and Cape Wrath.--Open Loch Alline, a beautiful salt-water lake,
with a narrow outlet to the Sound. It is surrounded by round hills,
sweetly fringed with green copse below, and one of which exhibits to
the spy-glass ruins of a castle. There is great promise of beauty in
its interior, but we cannot see everything. The land on the southern
bank of the entrance slopes away into a sort of promontory, at the
extremity of which are the very imperfect ruins of the castle of
Ardtornish, to which the Lords of the Isles summoned parliaments,
and from whence one of them dated a treaty with the Crown of England
as an independent Prince. These ruins are seen to most advantage
from the south, where they are brought into a line with one high
fragment towards the west predominating over the rest. The shore of
the promontory on the south side becomes rocky, and when it slopes
round to the west, rises into a very bold and high precipitous bank,
skirting the bay on the western side, partly cliffy, partly covered
with brushwood, with various streams dashing over it from a great
height. Above the old castle of Ardtornish, and about where the
promontory joins the land, stands the present mansion, a neat
whitewashed house, with several well-enclosed and well-cultivated
fields surrounding it.
"The high and dignified character assumed by the shores of Morven,
after leaving Ardtornish, continues till we open the Loch Linnhe,
the commencement of the great chain of inland lakes running up to
Fort William, and which it is proposed to unite with Inverness by
means of the Caledonian Canal. The wisdom of the plan adopted in
this national measure seems very dubious. Had the canal been of more
moderate depth, and the burdens imposed upon passing vessels less
expensive, there can be no doubt that the coasters, sloops, and
barks would have carried on a great trade by means of it. But the
expense and plague of lochs, etc., may prevent these humble vessels
from taking this abridged voyage, while ships above twenty or thirty
tons will hesitate to engage themselves in the intricacies of a long
lake navigation, exposed, without room for manoeuvring, to all the
sudden squalls of the mountainous country. Ahead of us, in the mouth
of Loch Linnhe, lies the low and fertile isle of Lismore, formerly
the appanage of the Bishops of the Isles, who, as usual, knew where
to choose church patrimony. The coast of the Mull, on the right hand
of the Sound, has a black, rugged, and unimproved character. Above
Scallister Bay are symptoms of improvement. Moonlight has risen upon
us as we pass Duart Castle, now an indistinct mass upon its
projecting promontory. It was garrisoned for Government so late as
1780, but is now ruinous. We see, at about a mile's distance, the
fatal shelve on which Duart exposed the daughter of Argyle, on which
Miss Baillie's play of The Family Legend is founded, but now,--
'Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flowed over the Lady's rock.'[91]
The placid state of the sea is very different from what I have seen it,
when six stout rowers could scarce give a boat headway through the
conflicting tides. These fits of violence so much surprised and offended
a body of the Camerons, who were bound upon some expedition to Mull, and
had been accustomed to the quietness of lake-navigation, that they drew
their dirks, and began to stab the waves--from which popular tale this
run of tide is called _the Men of Lochaber_. The weather being
delightfully moderate, we agree to hover hereabout all night, or anchor
under the Mull shore, should it be necessary, in order to see
Dunstaffnage to-morrow morning. The isle of Kerrera is now in sight,
forming the bay of Oban. Beyond lie the varied and magnificent summits
of the chain of mountains bordering Loch Linnhe, as well as those
between Loch Awe and Loch Etive, over which the summit of Ben Cruachan
is proudly prominent. Walk on deck, admiring this romantic prospect,
until ten; then below, and turn in.
"_1st September, 1814._--Rise betwixt six and seven, and having
discreetly secured our breakfast, take boat for the old castle of
Dunstaffnage, situated upon a promontory on the side of Loch Linnhe
and near to Loch Etive. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the day
and of the prospect. We coasted the low, large, and fertile isle of
Lismore, where a Catholic Bishop, Chisholm, has established a
seminary of young men intended for priests, and what is a better
thing, a valuable lime-work. Report speaks well of the lime, but
indifferently of the progress of the students. Tacking to the shore
of the loch, we land at Dunstaffnage, once, it is said, the seat of
the Scottish monarchy, till success over the Picts and Saxons
transferred their throne to Scoone, Dunfermline, and at length to
Edinburgh. The castle is still the King's (nominally), and the Duke
of Argyle (nominally also) is hereditary keeper. But the real right
of property is in the family of the depute-keeper, to which it was
assigned as an appanage, the first possessor being a natural son of
an Earl of Argyle. The shell of the castle, for little more now
remains, bears marks of extreme antiquity. It is square in form,
with round towers at three of the angles, and is situated upon a
lofty precipice, carefully scarped on all sides to render it
perpendicular. The entrance is by a staircase, which conducts you to
a wooden landing-place in front of the portal-door. This
landing-place could formerly be raised at pleasure, being of the
nature of a drawbridge. When raised, the place was inaccessible. You
pass under an ancient arch, with a low vault (being the porter's
lodge) on the right hand, and flanked by loopholes, for firing upon
any hostile guest who might force his passage thus far. This admits
you into the inner court, which is about eighty feet square. It
contains two mean-looking buildings, about sixty or seventy years
old; the ancient castle having been consumed by fire in 1715. It is
said that the nephew of the proprietor was the incendiary. We went
into the apartments, and found they did not exceed the promise of
the exterior; but they admitted us to walk upon the battlements of
the old castle, which displayed a most splendid prospect. Beneath,
and far projected into the loch, were seen the woods and houses of
Campbell of Lochnell. A little summer-house, upon an eminence,
belonging to this wooded bank, resembles an ancient monument. On
the right, Loch Etive, after pouring its waters like a furious
cataract over a strait called Connell Ferry, comes between the
castle and a round island belonging to its demesne, and nearly
insulates the situation. In front is a low rocky eminence on the
opposite side of the arm, through which Loch Etive flows into Loch
Linnhe. Here was situated _Beregenium_, once, it is said, a British
capital city; and, as our informant told us, the largest market town
in Scotland. Of this splendor are no remains but a few trenches and
excavations, which the distance did not allow us to examine. The
ancient masonry of Dunstaffnage is mouldering fast under time and
neglect. The foundations are beginning to decay, and exhibit gaps
between the rock and the wall; and the battlements are become
ruinous. The inner court is encumbered with ruins. A hundred pounds
or two would put this very ancient fortress in a state of
preservation for ages, but I fear this is not to be expected. The
stumps of large trees, which had once shaded the vicinity of the
castle, gave symptoms of decay in the family of Dunstaffnage. We
were told of some ancient spurs and other curiosities preserved in
the castle, but they were locked up. In the vicinity of the castle
is a chapel which had once been elegant, but by the building up of
windows, etc., is now heavy enough. I have often observed that the
means adopted in Scotland for repairing old buildings are generally
as destructive of their grace and beauty, as if that had been the
express object. Unfortunately most churches, particularly, have gone
through both stages of destruction, having been first repaired by
the building up of the beautiful shafted windows, and then the roof
being suffered to fall in, they became ruins indeed, but without any
touch of the picturesque farther than their massive walls and
columns may afford. Near the chapel of Dunstaffnage is a remarkable
echo.
"Reëmbarked, and, rowing about a mile and a half or better along the
shore of the lake, again landed under the ruins of the old castle of
Dunolly. This fortress, which, like that of Dunstaffnage, forms a
marked feature in this exquisite landscape, is situated on a bold
and precipitous promontory overhanging the lake. The principal part
of the ruins now remaining is a square tower or keep of the ordinary
size, which had been the citadel of the castle; but fragments of
other buildings, overgrown with ivy, show that Dunolly had once been
a place of considerable importance. These had enclosed a courtyard,
of which the keep probably formed one side, the entrance being by a
very steep ascent from the land side, which had formerly been cut
across by a deep moat, and defended doubtless by outworks and a
drawbridge. Beneath the castle stands the modern house of
Dunolly,--a decent mansion, suited to the reduced state of the
MacDougalls of Lorn, who, from being Barons powerful enough to give
battle to and defeat Robert Bruce, are now declined into private
gentlemen of moderate fortune.
"This very ancient family is descended from Somerled, Thane, or
rather, under that name, _King_ of Argyle and the Hebrides. He had
two sons, to one of whom he left his insular possessions--and he
became founder of the dynasty of the Lords of the Isles, who
maintained a stirring independence during the Middle Ages. The other
was founder of the family of the MacDougalls of Lorn. One of them
being married to a niece of the Red Cumming, in revenge of his
slaughter at Dumfries, took a vigorous part against Robert Bruce in
his struggles to maintain the independence of Scotland. At length
the King, turning his whole strength towards MacDougall, encountered
him at a pass near Loch Awe; but the Highlanders, being possessed of
the strong ground, compelled Bruce to retreat, and again gave him
battle at Dalry, near Tynedrum, where he had concentrated his
forces. Here he was again defeated; and the tradition of the
MacDougall family bears, that in the conflict the Lord of Lorn
engaged hand to hand with Bruce, and was struck down by that
monarch. As they grappled together on the ground, Bruce being
uppermost, a vassal of MacDougall, called MacKeoch, relieved his
master by pulling Bruce from him. In this close struggle the King
left his mantle and brooch in the hands of his enemies, and the
latter trophy was long preserved in the family, until it was lost in
an accidental fire. Barbour tells the same story, but I think with
circumstances somewhat different. When Bruce had gained the throne
for which he fought so long, he displayed his resentment against the
MacDougalls of Lorn, by depriving them of the greatest part of their
domains, which were bestowed chiefly upon the Steward of Scotland.
Sir Colin Campbell, the Knight of Loch Awe, and the Knight of
Glenurchy, Sir Dugald Campbell, married daughters of the Steward,
and received with them great portion of the forfeiture of
MacDougall. Bruce even compelled or persuaded the Lord of the Isles
to divorce his wife, who was a daughter of MacDougall, and take in
marriage a relation of his own. The son of the divorced lady was not
permitted to succeed to the principality of the Isles, on account of
his connection with the obnoxious MacDougall. But a large appanage
was allowed him upon the Mainland, where he founded the family of
Glengarry.
"The family of MacDougall suffered farther reduction during the
great civil war, in which they adhered to the Stewarts, and in 1715
they forfeited the small estate of Dunolly, which was then all that
remained of what had once been a principality. The then
representative of the family fled to France, and his son (father of
the present proprietor) would have been without any means of
education, but for the spirit of clanship, which induced one of the
name, in the humble situation of keeper of a public-house at
Dumbarton, to take his young chief to reside with him, and be at the
expense of his education and maintenance until his fifteenth or
sixteenth year. He proved a clever and intelligent man, and made
good use of the education he received. When the affair of 1745 was
in agitation, it was expected by the south-western clans that
Charles Edward would have landed near Oban, instead of which he
disembarked at Loch-nan-augh, in Arisaig. Stuart of Appin sent
information of his landing to MacDougall, who gave orders to his
brother to hold the clan in readiness to rise, and went himself to
consult with the chamberlain of the Earl of Breadalbane, who was
also in the secret. He found this person indisposed to rise,
alleging that Charles had disappointed them both in the place of
landing, and the support he had promised. MacDougall then resolved
to play cautious, and went to visit the Duke of Argyle, then
residing at Roseneath, probably without any determined purpose as to
his future proceedings. While he was waiting the Duke's leisure, he
saw a horseman arrive at full gallop, and shortly after, the Duke
entering the apartment where MacDougall was, with a map in his hand,
requested him, after friendly salutations, to point out
Loch-nan-augh on that map. MacDougall instantly saw that the secret
of Charles's landing had transpired, and resolved to make a merit
of being the first who should give details. The persuasions of the
Duke determined him to remain quiet, and the reward was the
restoration of the little estate of Dunolly, lost by his father in
1715. This gentleman lived to a very advanced stage of life, and was
succeeded by Peter MacDougall, Esq., now of Dunolly. I had these
particulars respecting the restoration of the estate from a near
relation of the family, whom we met at Dunstaffnage.
"The modern house of Dunolly is on the neck of land under the old
castle, having on the one hand the lake with its islands and
mountains; on the other, two romantic eminences tufted with
copsewood, of which the higher is called Barmore, and is now
planted. I have seldom seen a more romantic and delightful
situation, to which the peculiar state of the family gave a sort of
moral interest. Mrs. MacDougall, observing strangers surveying the
ruins, met us on our return, and most politely insisted upon our
accepting fruit and refreshments. This was a compliment meant to
absolute strangers, but when our names became known to her, the good
lady's entreaties that we would stay till Mr. MacDougall returned
from his ride became very pressing. She was in deep mourning for the
loss of an eldest son, who had fallen bravely in Spain and under
Wellington, a death well becoming the descendant of so famed a race.
The second son, a lieutenant in the navy, had, upon this family
misfortune, obtained leave to visit his parents for the first time
after many years' service, but had now returned to his ship. Mrs. M.
spoke with melancholy pride of the death of her eldest son, with
hope and animation of the prospects of the survivor. A third is
educated for the law. Declining the hospitality offered us, Mrs. M.
had the goodness to walk with us along the shore towards Oban, as
far as the property of Dunolly extends, and showed us a fine spring,
called _Tobar nan Gall_, or the Well of the Stranger, where our
sailors supplied themselves with excellent water, which has been
rather a scarce article with us, as it soon becomes past a
landsman's use on board ship. On the seashore, about a quarter of a
mile from the castle, is a huge fragment of the rock called
_plum-pudding stone_, which art or nature has formed into a gigantic
pillar. Here, it is said, Fion or Fingal tied his dog Bran--here
also the celebrated Lord of the Isles tied up his dogs when he came
upon a visit to the Lords of Lorn. Hence it is called _Clach nan
Con_; _i. e._, the Dog's Stone. A tree grew once on the top of this
bare mass of composite stone, but it was cut down by a curious
damsel of the family, who was desirous to see a treasure said to be
deposited beneath it. Enjoyed a pleasant walk of a mile along the
beach to Oban, a town of some consequence, built in a semicircular
form, around a good harbor formed by the opposite isle of Kerrera,
on which Mrs. M. pointed out the place where Alexander II. died,
while, at the head of a powerful armament, he meditated the
reduction of the Hebrides. The field is still called Dal-ry--the
King's field.
"Having taken leave of Mrs. MacDougall, we soon satisfied our
curiosity concerning Oban, which owed its principal trade to the
industry of two brothers, Messrs. Stevenson, who dealt in
ship-building. One is now dead, the other almost retired from
business, and trade is dull in the place. Heard of an active and
industrious man, who had set up a nursery of young trees, which
ought to succeed, since at present, whoever wants plants must send
to Glasgow; and how much the plants suffer during a voyage of such
length, any one may conceive. Go on board after a day delightful for
the serenity and clearness of the weather, as well as for the
objects we had visited. I forgot to say, that through Mr.
MacDougall's absence we lost an opportunity of seeing a bronze
figure of one of his ancestors, called _Bacach_, or the lame, armed
and mounted as for a tournament. The hero flourished in the twelfth
century. After a grand council of war, we determine, as we are so
near the coast of Ulster, that we will stand over and view the
celebrated Giant's Causeway; and Captain Wilson receives directions
accordingly.
_"2d September, 1814._--Another most beautiful day. The heat, for
the first time since we sailed from Leith, is somewhat incommodious;
so we spread a handsome awning to save our complexions, God wot, and
breakfast beneath it in style. The breeze is gentle, and quite
favorable. It has conducted us from the extreme cape of Mull, called
the Black Head of Mull, into the Sound of Islay. We view in passing
that large and fertile island, the property of Campbell of
Shawfield, who has introduced an admirable style of farming among
his tenants. Still farther behind us retreats the Island of Jura,
with the remarkable mountains called the Paps of Jura, which form a
landmark at a great distance. They are very high, but in our eyes,
so much accustomed of late to immense height, do not excite much
surprise. Still farther astern is the small isle of Scarba, which,
as we see it, seems to be a single hill. In the passage or sound
between Scarba and the extremity of Jura, is a terrible run of tide,
which, contending with the sunk rocks and islets of that foul
channel, occasions the succession of whirlpools called the Gulf of
Corrievreckan. Seen at this distance, we cannot judge of its
terrors. The sight of Corrievreckan and of the low rocky isle of
Colonsay, betwixt which and Islay we are now passing, strongly
recalls to my mind poor John Leyden and his tale of the Mermaid and
MacPhail of Colonsay.[92] Probably the name of the hero should have
been MacFie, for to the MacDuffies (by abridgment MacFies) Colonsay
of old pertained. It is said the last of these MacDuffies was
executed as an oppressor by order of the Lord of the Isles, and lies
buried in the adjacent small island of Oransay, where there is an
old chapel with several curious monuments, which, to avoid losing
this favorable breeze, we are compelled to leave unvisited. Colonsay
now belongs to a gentleman named MacNeil. On the right beyond it,
opens at a distance the western coast of Mull, which we already
visited in coming from the northward. We see the promontory of Ross,
which is terminated by Y-Columb-kill, also now visible. The shores
of Loch Tua and Ulva are in the blue distance, with the little
archipelago which lies around Staffa. Still farther, the hills of
Rum can just be distinguished from the blue sky. We are now arrived
at the extreme point of Islay, termed, from the strong tides, the
_Runs of Islay_. We here only feel them as a large but soft swell of
the sea, the weather being delightfully clear and serene. In the
course of the evening we lose sight of the Hebrides, excepting
Islay, having now attained the western side of that island.
"_3d September, 1814._--In the morning early, we are off
Innistulhan, an islet very like Inchkeith in size and appearance,
and, like Inchkeith, displaying a lighthouse. Messrs. Hamilton,
Duff, and Stevenson go ashore to visit the Irish lighthouse and
compare notes. A fishing-boat comes off with four or five stout
lads, without neckerchiefs or hats, and the best of whose joint
garments selected would hardly equip an Edinburgh beggar. Buy from
this specimen of Paddy in his native land some fine John Dories for
threepence each. The mainland of Ireland adjoining to this island
(being part of the county of Donegal) resembles Scotland, and,
though hilly, seems well cultivated upon the whole. A brisk breeze
directly against us. We beat to windward by assistance of a strong
tide-stream, in order to weather the head of Innishowen, which
covers the entrance of Lough Foyle, with the purpose of running up
the loch to see Londonderry, so celebrated for its siege in 1689.
But short tacks and long tacks were in vain, and at dinner-time,
having lost our tide, we find ourselves at all disadvantage both
against wind and sea. Much combustion at our meal, and the
manoeuvres by which we attempted to eat and drink remind me of the
enchanted drinking-cup in the old ballad,--
'Some shed it on their shoulder,
Some shed it on their thigh;
And he that did not hit his mouth
Was sure to hit his eye.'[93]
In the evening, backgammon and cards are in great request. We have
had our guns shotted all this day for fear of the Yankees--a
privateer having been seen off Tyree Islands, and taken some
vessels--as is reported.--About nine o'clock weather the Innishowen
head, and enter the Lough, and fire a gun as a signal for a pilot.
The people here are great smugglers, and at the report of the gun,
we see several lights on shore disappear.--About the middle of the
day, too, our appearance (much resembling a revenue cutter)
occasioned a smoke being made in the midst of a very rugged cliff on
the shore--a signal probably to any of the smugglers' craft that
might be at sea. Come to anchor in eight fathom water, expecting our
pilot.
_"4th September, 1814._--Waked in the morning with good hope of
hearing service in Derry Cathedral, as we had felt ourselves under
weigh since daylight; but these expectations vanished when, going on
deck, we found ourselves only halfway up Lough Foyle, and at least
ten miles from Derry. Very little wind, and that against us; and the
navigation both shoally and intricate. Called a council of war; and
after considering the difficulty of getting up to Derry, and the
chance of being wind-bound when we do get there, we resolve to
renounce our intended visit to that town. We had hardly put the ship
about, when the Irish Æolus shifted his trumpet, and opposed our
exit, as he had formerly been unfavorable to our progress up the
lake. At length, we are compelled to betake ourselves to towing, the
wind fading into an absolute calm. This gives us time enough to
admire the northern, or Donegal, side of Lough Foyle--the other
being hidden from us by haze and distance. Nothing can be more
favorable than this specimen of Ireland.--A beautiful variety of
cultivated slopes, intermixed with banks of wood; rocks skirted with
a distant ridge of heathy hills, watered by various brooks; the
glens or banks being, in general, planted or covered with copse; and
finally, studded by a succession of villas and gentlemen's seats,
good farmhouses, and neat white-washed cabins. Some of the last are
happily situated upon the verge of the sea, with banks of copse or a
rock or two rising behind them, and the white sand in front. The
land, in general, seems well cultivated and enclosed--but in some
places the enclosures seem too small, and the ridges too crooked,
for proper farming. We pass two gentlemen's seats, called White
Castle and Red Castle; the last a large good-looking mansion, with
trees, and a pretty vale sloping upwards from the sea. As we
approach the termination of the Lough, the ground becomes more rocky
and barren, and the cultivation interrupted by impracticable
patches, which have been necessarily abandoned. Come in view of
Green Castle, a large ruinous castle, said to have belonged to the
MacWilliams. The remains are romantically situated upon a green bank
sloping down to the sea, and are partly covered with ivy. From their
extent, the place must have been a chieftain's residence of the very
first consequence. Part of the ruins appear to be founded upon a
high red rock, which the eye at first blends with the masonry. To
the east of the ruins, upon a cliff overhanging the sea, are a
modern fortification and barrack-yard, and beneath, a large battery
for protection of the shipping which may enter the Lough; the guns
are not yet mounted. The Custom-house boat boards us and confirms
the account that American cruisers are upon the coast. Drift out of
the Lough, and leave behind us this fine country, all of which
belongs in property to Lord Donegal; other possessors only having
long leases, at sixty years, or so forth. Red Castle, however,
before distinguished as a very good-looking house, is upon a
perpetual lease. We discharge our pilot--the gentlemen go ashore
with him in the boat, in order to put foot on Irish land. I shall
defer that pleasure till I can promise myself something to see. When
our gentlemen return, we read prayers on deck. After dinner go
ashore at the small fishing-village of Port Rush, pleasantly
situated upon a peninsula, which forms a little harbor. Here we are
received by Dr. Richardson, the inventor of the fiorin-grass (or of
some of its excellencies). He cultivates this celebrated vegetable
on a very small scale, his whole farm not exceeding four acres. Here
I learn, with inexpressible surprise and distress, the death of one
of the most valued of the few friends whom these memoranda might
interest.[94] She was, indeed, a rare example of the soundest good
sense, and the most exquisite purity of moral feeling, united with
the utmost grace and elegance of personal beauty, and with manners
becoming the most dignified rank in British society. There was a
feminine softness in all her deportment, which won universal love,
as her firmness of mind and correctness of principle commanded
veneration. To her family her loss is inexpressibly great. I know
not whether it was the purity of her mind, or the ethereal cast of
her features and form, but I could never associate in my mind her
idea and that of mortality; so that the shock is the more heavy, as
being totally unexpected. God grant comfort to the afflicted
survivor and his family!
"_5th September, 1814._--Wake, or rather rise at six, for I have
waked the whole night, or fallen into broken sleeps only to be
hag-ridden by the nightmare. Go ashore with a heavy heart, to see
sights which I had much rather leave alone. Land under Dunluce, a
ruined castle built by the MacGilligans, or MacQuillens, but
afterwards taken from them by a Macdonnell, ancestor of the Earls of
Antrim, and destroyed by Sir John Perrot, Lord-Lieutenant in the
reign of Queen Elizabeth. This Macdonnell came from the Hebrides at
the head of a Scottish colony. The site of the castle much resembles
Dunnottar, but it is on a smaller scale. The ruins occupy perhaps
more than an acre of ground, being the level top of a high rock
advanced into the sea, by which it is surrounded on three sides, and
divided from the mainland by a deep chasm. The access was by a
narrow bridge, of which there now remains but a single rib, or
ledge, forming a doubtful and a precarious access to the ruined
castle. On the outer side of the bridge are large remains of
outworks, probably for securing cattle, and for domestic
offices--and the vestiges of a chapel. Beyond the bridge are an
outer and inner gateway, with their defences. The large gateway
forms one angle of the square enclosure of the fortress, and at the
other landward angle is built a large round tower. There are
vestiges of similar towers occupying the angles of the precipice
overhanging the sea. These towers were connected by a curtain, on
which artillery seems to have been mounted. Within this circuit are
the ruins of an establishment of feudal grandeur on the large scale.
The great hall, forming, it would seem, one side of the inner court,
is sixty paces long, lighted by windows which appear to have been
shafted with stone, but are now ruined. Adjacent are the great
kitchen and ovens, with a variety of other buildings, but no square
tower, or keep. The most remarkable part of Dunluce, however, is
that the whole mass of plum-pudding rock on which the fort is built
is completely perforated by a cave sloping downwards from the inside
of the moat or dry-ditch beneath the bridge, and opening to the sea
on the other side. It might serve the purpose of a small harbor,
especially if they had, as is believed, a descent to the cave from
within the castle. It is difficult to conceive the use of the
aperture to the land, unless it was in some way enclosed and
defended. Above the ruinous castle is a neat farmhouse. Mrs. More,
the good-wife, a Scoto-Hibernian, received us with kindness and
hospitality which did honor to the nation of her birth, as well as
of her origin, in a house whose cleanliness and neatness might have
rivalled England. Her churn was put into immediate motion on our
behalf, and we were loaded with all manner of courtesy, as well as
good things. We heard here of an armed schooner having been seen off
the coast yesterday, which fired on a boat that went off to board
her, and would seem therefore to be a privateer, or armed smuggler.
"Return on board for breakfast, and then again take boat for the
Giant's Causeway--having first shotted the guns, and agreed on a
signal, in case this alarming stranger should again make his
appearance. Visit two caves, both worth seeing, but not equal to
those we have seen: one, called Port Coon, opens in a small cove, or
bay--the outer reach opens into an inner cave, and that again into
the sea. The other, called Down Kerry, is a sea-cave, like that on
the eastern side of Loch Eribol--a high arch up which the sea
rolls:--the weather being quiet, we sailed in very nearly to the
upper end. We then rowed on to the celebrated Causeway, a platform
composed of basaltic pillars, projecting into the sea like the pier
of a harbor. As I was tired, and had a violent headache, I did not
land, but could easily see that the regularity of the columns was
the same as at Staffa; but that island contains a much more
extensive and curious specimen of this curious phenomenon.
"Row along the shores of this celebrated point, which are extremely
striking as well as curious. They open into a succession of little
bays, each of which has precipitous banks graced with long ranges of
the basaltic pillars, sometimes placed above each other, and divided
by masses of interweaving strata, or by green sloping banks of earth
of extreme steepness. These remarkable ranges of columns are in some
places chequered by horizontal strata of a red rock or earth, of the
appearance of ochre; so that the green of the grassy banks, the
dark-gray or black appearance of the columns, with those red seams
and other varieties of the interposed strata, have most uncommon and
striking effects. The outline of these cliffs is as singular as
their coloring. In several places the earth has wasted away from
single columns, and left them standing insulated and erect, like the
ruined colonnade of an ancient temple, upon the verge of the
precipice. In other places, the disposition of the basaltic ranges
presents singular appearances, to which the guides give names
agreeable to the images which they are supposed to represent. Each
of the little bays or inlets has also its appropriate name. One is
called the Spanish Bay, from one of the Spanish Armada having been
wrecked there. Thus our voyage has repeatedly traced the memorable
remnants of that celebrated squadron. The general name of the cape
adjacent to the Causeway is Bengore Head. To those who have seen
Staffa, the peculiar appearance of the Causeway itself will lose
much of its effect; but the grandeur of the neighboring scenery will
still maintain the reputation of Bengore Head. The people ascribe
all these wonders to Fin MacCoul, whom they couple with a Scottish
giant called Ben-an something or other. The traveller is plied by
guides, who make their profit by selling pieces of crystal, agate,
or chalcedony, found in the interstices of the rocks. Our party
brought off some curious joints of the columns, and, had I been
quite as I am wont to be, I would have selected four to be capitals
of a rustic porch at Abbotsford. But, alas! alas! I am much out of
love with vanity at this moment. From what we hear at the Causeway,
we have every reason to think that the pretended privateer has been
a gentleman's pleasure-vessel.--Continue our voyage southward, and
pass between the Main of Ireland and the Isle of Rachrin, a rude
heathy-looking island, once a place of refuge to Robert Bruce. This
is said, in ancient times, to have been the abode of banditti, who
plundered the neighboring coast. At present it is under a long lease
to a Mr. Gage, who is said to maintain excellent order among the
islanders. Those of bad character he expels to Ireland, and hence it
is a phrase among the people of Rachrin, when they wish ill to any
one, '_May Ireland be his hinder end_.' On the Main we see the
village of Ballintry, and a number of people collected, the remains
of an Irish fair. Close by is a small island, called Sheep Island.
We now take leave of the Irish coast, having heard nothing of its
popular complaints, excepting that the good lady at Dunluce made a
heavy moan against the tithes, which had compelled her husband to
throw his whole farm into pasture. Stand over toward Scotland, and
see the Mull of Cantyre light.
"_6th September, 1814._--Under the lighthouse at the Mull of
Cantyre; situated on a desolate spot among rocks, like a Chinese
pagoda in Indian drawings. Duff[95] and Stevenson go ashore at six.
Hamilton follows, but is unable to land, the sea having got up. The
boat brings back letters, and I have the great comfort to learn all
are well at Abbotsford. About eight the tide begins to run very
strong, and the wind rising at the same time, makes us somewhat
apprehensive for our boat, which had returned to attend D. and S. We
observe them set off along the hills on foot, to walk, as we
understand, to a bay called Carskey, five or six miles off, but the
nearest spot at which they can hope to reëmbark in this state of the
weather. It now becomes very squally, and one of our jibsails
splits. We are rather awkwardly divided into three parties--the
pedestrians on shore, with whom we now observe Captain Wilson,
mounted upon a pony--the boat with four sailors, which is stealing
along in-shore, unable to row, and scarce venturing to carry any
sail--and we in the yacht, tossing about most exceedingly. At length
we reach Carskey, a quiet-looking bay, where the boat gets into
shore, and fetches off our gentlemen.--After this the coast of
Cantyre seems cultivated and arable, but bleak and unenclosed, like
many other parts of Scotland. We then learn that we have been
repeatedly in the route of two American privateers, who have made
many captures in the Irish Channel, particularly at Innistruhul, at
the back of Islay, and on the Lewis. They are the Peacock, of
twenty-two guns, and 165 men, and a schooner of eighteen guns,
called the Prince of Neuchatel. These news, added to the increasing
inclemency of the weather, induce us to defer a projected visit to
the coast of Galloway; and indeed it is time one of us was home on
many accounts. We therefore resolve, after visiting the lighthouse
at Pladda, to proceed for Greenock. About four drop anchor off
Pladda, a small islet lying on the south side of Arran. Go ashore
and visit the establishment. When we return on board, the wind being
unfavorable for the mouth of Clyde, we resolve to weigh anchor and
go into Lamlash Bay.
"_7th September, 1814._--We had ample room to repent last night's
resolution, for the wind, with its usual caprice, changed so soon as
we had weighed anchor, blew very hard, and almost directly against
us, so that we were beating up against it by short tacks, which made
a most disagreeable night; as, between the noise of the wind and the
sea, the clattering of the ropes and sails above, and of the
movables below, and the eternal '_ready about_,' which was repeated
every ten minutes when the vessel was about to tack, with the lurch
and clamor which succeeds, sleep was much out of the question. We
are not now in the least sick, but want of sleep is uncomfortable,
and I have no agreeable reflections to amuse waking hours,
excepting the hope of again rejoining my family. About six o'clock
went on deck to see Lamlash Bay, which we have at length reached
after a hard struggle. The morning is fine and the wind abated, so
that the coast of Arran looks extremely well. It is indented with
two deep bays. That called Lamlash, being covered by an island with
an entrance at either end, makes a secure roadstead. The other bay,
which takes its name from Brodick Castle, a seat of the Duke of
Hamilton, is open. The situation of the castle is very fine, among
extensive plantations, laid out with perhaps too much formality, but
pleasant to the eye, as the first tract of plantation we have seen
for a long time. One stripe, however, with singular want of taste,
runs straight up a finely rounded hill, and turning by an obtuse
angle, cuts down the opposite side with equal lack of remorse. This
vile habit of opposing the line of the plantation to the natural
line and bearing of the ground is one of the greatest practical
errors of early planters. As to the rest, the fields about Brodick,
and the lowland of Arran in general, seem rich, well enclosed, and
in good cultivation. Behind and around rise an amphitheatre of
mountains, the principal a long ridge with fine swelling serrated
tops, called Goat-Fell. Our wind now altogether dies away, while we
want its assistance to get to the mouth of the Firth of Clyde, now
opening between the extremity of the large and fertile Isle of Bute,
and the lesser islands called the Cumbrays. The fertile coast of
Ayrshire trends away to the south-westward, displaying many
villages, and much appearance of beauty and cultivation. On the
north-eastward arises the bold and magnificent screen formed by the
mountains of Argyleshire and Dumbartonshire, rising above each other
in gigantic succession. About noon a favorable breath of wind
enables us to enter the mouth of the Clyde, passing between the
larger Cumbray and the extremity of Bute. As we advance beyond the
Cumbray, and open the opposite coast, see Largs, renowned for the
final defeat of the Norwegian invaders by Alexander III. [A. D.
1263]. The ground of battle was a sloping, but rather gentle, ascent
from the sea, above the modern Kirk of Largs. Had Haco gained the
victory, it would have opened all the south-west of Scotland to his
arms. On Bute, a fine and well-improved island, we open the Marquis
of Bute's house of Mount Stewart, neither apparently large nor
elegant in architecture, but beautifully situated among well-grown
trees, with an open and straight avenue to the seashore. The whole
isle is prettily varied by the rotation of crops: and the rocky
ridges of Goat-Fell and other mountains in Arran are now seen behind
Bute as a background. These ridges resemble much the romantic and
savage outline of the mountains of Cullin, in Skye. On the southward
of Largs is Kelburn, the seat of Lord Glasgow, with extensive
plantations; on the northward Skelmorlie, an ancient seat of the
Montgomeries. The Firth, closed to appearance by Bute and the
Cumbrays, now resembles a long irregular inland lake, bordered on
the one side by the low and rich coast of Renfrewshire, studded with
villages and seats, and on the other by the Highland mountains. Our
breeze dies totally away, and leaves us to admire this prospect till
sunset. I learn incidentally, that, in the opinion of honest Captain
Wilson, I have been myself the cause of all this contradictory
weather. 'It is all,' says the Captain to Stevenson, 'owing to the
cave at the Isle of Egg,'--from which I had abstracted a skull.
Under this odium I may labor yet longer, for assuredly the weather
has been doggedly unfavorable. Night quiet and serene, but dead
calm--a fine contrast to the pitching, rolling, and walloping of
last night.
"_8th September._--Waked very much in the same situation--a dead
calm, but the weather very serene. With much difficulty, and by the
assistance of the tide, we advanced up the Firth, and, passing the
village of Gourock, at length reached Greenock. Took an early
dinner, and embarked in the steamboat for Glasgow. We took leave of
our little yacht under the repeated cheers of the sailors, who had
been much pleased with their erratic mode of travelling about, so
different from the tedium of a regular voyage. After we reached
Glasgow--a journey which we performed at the rate of about eight
miles an hour, and with a smoothness of motion which probably
resembles flying--we supped together and prepared to
separate.--Erskine and I go to-morrow to the Advocate's at
Killermont, and thence to Edinburgh. So closes my journal. But I
must not omit to say, that among five or six persons, some of whom
were doubtless different in tastes and pursuits, there did not
occur, during the close communication of more than six weeks aboard
a small vessel, the slightest difference of opinion. Each seemed
anxious to submit his own wishes to those of his friends. The
consequence was, that by judicious arrangement all were gratified in
their turn, and frequently he who made some sacrifices to the views
of his companions was rewarded by some unexpected gratification
calculated particularly for his own amusement. Thus ends my little
excursion, in which, bating one circumstance, which must have made
me miserable for the time wherever I had learned it, I have enjoyed
as much pleasure as in any six weeks of my life. We had constant
exertion, a succession of wild and uncommon scenery, good-humor on
board, and objects of animation and interest when we went ashore--
'Sed fugit interea--fugit irrevocabile tempus.'"
Footnotes of the Chapter XXXII.
[88: The Rev. Alexander Brunton, D. D., now (1836)
Professor of Oriental Languages in the University of Edinburgh.]
[89: _Ode on the Superstitions of the Highlands._]
[90:
"So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
They cannot see the Sun on high."
Southey's _Inchcape Rock_.]
[91: Southey's _Inchcape Rock_.]
[92: See _Minstrelsy of the Border_, vol. iv. pp. 285-306
(Edin. Ed.).]
[93: _The Boy and the Mantle_--Percy's _Reliques_, vol.
iii. p. 10.]
[94: Harriet, Duchess of Buccleuch, died August 24, 1814.]
[95: Adam Duff, Esq., afterwards and for many years Sheriff
of the county of Edinburgh, died on 17th May, 1840.--(1845.)]