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