adequate impression of its vastness can be obtained. Whence comes all
this overflowing tide? is a question readily answered by the rigid
scientist, but with whose conclusions, the imagination rests not
satisfied.
After leaving the outer roads of Buenos Ayres, but little shipping is
met with, and the reflection immediately occurs, how different the
case would be, were this magnificent water-highway in the hands of the
Anglo-Saxon race. On finding ourselves nearly abreast of Martin Garcia,
the Argentine coast magically arose under a strong mirage, the trees
appearing suspended in the air and completely separated from the shore
line; whilst a shoal several miles in extent threatening our port bow,
indicated the necessity of hugging the island, if we would avoid the
fate of a fine bark which lay rotting only a few yards off.
The navigation is extremely perilous especially at low water and yet
but a few buoys are visible, an unaccount-able omission, at least in
times of peace. A boat containing the _comandante_ sallies from the
fort and we, in common with all other passing vessels, are obliged to
lie to, in order to await its visit.
Martin Garcia, at once the Norfolk island and Gibraltar of the River
Plate, is the key of the common entrance to both the Paraná and
Uruguay, as their bifurcation occurs farther north; and the channel,
whose character may be surmised from its name “_Hell channel_,” passes
within easy reach of the guns of this sentinel of the rivers, which
has been strongly fortified by the Argentine government. A barren
looking granitic tract, whence are quarried the _adoquines_ (paving
stones) for the streets of the metropolis, with low sandy shores,
rising in the interior to the height of two hundred feet and bristling
with permanent fortifications and earthworks, it presents a standing
menace to dispute with intruders entrance by water into the heart of
the republic. On entering the River Uruguay, which has an embouchure
of about thirteen miles, both banks are visible and very striking
differences they present; the right or Entre-Riano shore is well-wooded
and clothed with vegetation, whilst the left or Montevidean lies in
all its naked barrenness. Further on, the Banda Oriental coast alters
its character, being fringed with islands and less sandy; then jut out
into the river a succession of bold bluffs, almost all with a bloody
history, covered with a scanty verdure emerging from sand, presenting a
close general resemblance to the southern shore of the Isle of Wight;
and these promontories are usually dotted with _estancias_. Casting our
eyes across the broad waters, we notice a change there likewise; long
reefs of sand exchange verdure for sterility, and it is a remarkable
circumstance throughout our whole progress up the Uruguay, that the
two shores bear continually opposite or, so to speak, complimentary
characters, not only physically and politically but botanically; when
one is bold or fertile, the other is low or sterile. We now pass
several wrecks, attesting the difficulties which beset our watery path.
Rounding a point, we suddenly come upon what looks uncommonly like an
English fishing-village, with its craft quietly reposing in a snug bay;
the church and cemetery topping our eminence, whilst the residence
of the lord of the manor caps another, and learn that this is _Nueva
Palmira_. The Oriental flag here boards us for the first time and the
Easterns got rid of, the Saturno is again let loose on her orbit to
hug the Montevidean coast, which now descends again to long reaches of
low flat sands, with a broader stream, forming extensive sabulous, and
in some cases well-wooded islands, which stretch leagues upon leagues
along this left bank. A glorious moon, within two days of the full,
succeeded one of the angriest yet finest of sunsets, and her rays,
falling full upon the capacious bosom of the placid river transformed
it into a lake of burnished silver. At about 9 P. M. we arrive off
the mouth of the Rio Negro (Black River), called thus because the
decaying sarsaparilla roots, with which its banks are lined, impregnate
and discolour the waters and at the same time render them so highly
medicinal as to attract great numbers of bathers to its shores.
As the rising sun’s disk was cut in twain by the horizon, I started
upon deck to view the landscape. We were coursing through numberless
islands, with a scenery on both banks exactly like that of the Suffolk
river Orwell, but with an atmosphere O! how different! ours was as
the balm of Eden, theirs, the nipping dry Eoic. The breadth of the
stream is here about half a mile, and the moderately elevated banks
are clothed with vivid green to the water’s edge; then as the river
narrows again, we traverse a beautiful Ægean, whose innumerable islets
are thickly wooded, principally with Espinillo (_Acacia cavenia_),
Tala (_Celtis Sellowiana_), the willow of Humboldt, Ceibo (_Erythrina
cristagalli_) and Laurel; but which, to my utter astonishment,
presented scarcely any trace of animal life; hardly a dozen
butterflies, a chimango or two, and a few weary-looking butcher-birds
were its sole visible representatives. About 6 A. M., whilst passing
through low jungle we sight our first city on the Argentine side,
Concepcion del Uruguay, the capital of the province of Entre Rios; and
entering a deep channel scarce a hundred yards broad, flanked by a
double row of poplars, emerge in front of the splendid _Saladero_[4] of
Santa Candida.
[Footnote 4: Slaughter-house.]
Ten miles above Paysandú, the river expands into a broad belt clear as
a mirror, in which the sky, distant foliage and hills are brilliantly
reflected, the air changes and bathed in tropical fragrance and
balminess, the intensely vivid verdure springs up magically around us.
At the junction of the Queguay, an oriental affluent with the main
stream, which at this point has a breadth of about half a mile are
planted several _Saladeros_, apparently hard at work; but whether the
palms are scared by the scent of blood or refuse to witness the daily
holocaust, certain it is that they here suddenly vanish from the scene.
Twenty miles above this rises a veritable _Tarpeia_ in the shape of
a very lofty, bold, perpendicular-faced mass jutting into the river
from the Uruguay coast, and which, with a refinement of cruelty and a
just appreciation of history, was actually used by a general in one of
the periodic revolutions to which this unhappy country is so subject,
wherefrom to hurl his prisoners. Two picturesque islands, circular,
rising abruptly out of the water, apparently exactly equal in size
and shape, and hence styled “_Las dos hermanas_” (the two sisters),
stand as advanced guards to this precipitous promontory, and by their
intensely green verdure to the river’s edge and smooth mathematical
uniformity, offer a pleasing contrast to the rugged, battered and
blackened face of the cliff.
We hold our breath as with a quick turn and dart through the seething
flood, our clever steersman pilots us through dangers greater than ever
Sylla and Charybdis offered, and leaves us at leisure to survey the
prosperous cattle farms, which, on both banks, now line our approach to
Concordia.
At length about 5 P. M., after a passage of thirty-one hours and at a
distance of 300 miles from Buenos Ayres, we sight the town of Concordia
on the right bank, and at almost the same moment Salto, on the left,
which, rising tier upon tier, very much resembles Bath; these two
occupy almost the same relative positions as Buda and Pesth on the
Danube.
From its junction with the Paraná, the Uruguay is navigable at all
states of the tide as far as Concordia, but some miles above that city
occur the Falls of Salto-grande and numerous rapids which render it
unnavigable to steamers from below, except in times of extraordinary
freshets between which an interval of years sometimes elapses; whilst
above these, although still sown with rapids, the river is navigable
but to vessels of smaller draught.
From the marvellous accounts I had listened to, I expected to behold in
these Falls another Niagara, but great was my disappointment on viewing
them for the first time, for although very picturesque, they struck me
as completely wanting in the grandeur with which my imagination had
clothed them. Extending for about a mile longitudinally, they consist
on the northern limit of a transverse bar of boulders which cause a
perpendicular descent of about twenty-five feet; then a succession of
rugged rocks, sometimes of very fantastic shape, pile Pelion on Ossa,
amongst which the river surges and eddies. The reef spreads completely
across the river, a distance of about a quarter of a mile, so that in
some states of the tide, it is possible to pass on foot from Entre
Rios to the Banda Oriental, at all times a difficult, nay dangerous,
undertaking. An island formed of massive boulders occupies the centre,
on which a few dwarfed trees struggle for an aquatic existence. Here
are found splendid agates, blocks of rock crystal, amethysts and other
precious stones; and there lie naked on the blistering rocks, those
rusty and silent mementos of Garibaldi’s unsuccessful expedition in
1840 when, to cross the rapids, he was obliged to throw overboard ten
eighteen-pounder iron guns.
By contemplating the scene, however, it grows in magnitude and
sublimity.
THE TWEED
SIR THOMAS DICK LAUDER
The great valley which affords a course for the Tweed, when taken in
conjunction with those minor branch valleys which give passage to its
various tributaries, may be called the great Scoto-Arcadian district of
pastoral poetry and song. Who could enumerate the many offerings which
have been made to the rural muses in this happy country? for where
there are poetry and song, happiness must be presupposed, otherwise
neither the one nor the other could have birth.
During those barbarous times, when border raids were in continual
activity, and when no one on either side of the marches, or debatable
land, could lay down his head to sleep at night, without the chance
of having to stand at his defense, or perhaps to mount and ride ere
morning, the valleys of the Tweed and its tributaries must have
witnessed many strange and stirring events and cruel slaughters. To
defend themselves from these predatory incursions the Scottish monarchs
erected strong castles along the lower part of the course of the Tweed,
and the chain of these places of strength was carried upwards, quite
to the source of the streams by the various land owners. These last
were either Towers or Peels--these different names being given, rather
to distinguish the structures as to their magnitude and importance,
than from any great difference of plan--the Tower possessing greater
accommodations and being much the larger and more impregnable in
strength of the two. These strongholds, being intended for the general
advantage and preservation of all the inhabitants of the valley, were
built alternately on both sides of the river, and in a continued
series, so as to have a view one of another; so that a fire kindled on
the top of any one of them, was immediately responded to, in the same
way, by all the others in succession; the smoke giving the signal by
day and the flame by night--thus spreading the alarm through a whole
country of seventy miles in extent, in the provincial phrase, from
“Berwick to the Bield,”--and to a breadth of not less than fifty miles
carrying alarm into the uppermost parts of every tributary glen.
Availing ourselves of the quaint language of Dr. Pennecuick, we now
beg to inform our readers that “The famous Tweed hath its first spring
or fountain nearly a mile to the east of the place where the shire of
Peebles marches and borders with the stewartry of Annandale--that is
Tweed’s Cross, so called from a cross which stood and was erected there
in the time of Popery, as was ordinar y, in all the eminent places of
public roads in the kingdom before our Reformation. Both Annan and
Clyde have their first rise from the same height, about half a mile
from one another, where Clyde runneth west, Annan to the south, and
Tweed to the east.” There is some little exaggeration, however, in the
old Doctor here--for there is, in reality, no branch of Clyde within
two miles of Tweed’s Cross, or Errickstane Brae. Tweed’s Well is not
very far from the great r oad; and the site of Tweed’s Cross is 1,632
feet above the level of the sea. “Tweed runneth for the most part with
a soft, yet trotting stream, towards the north-east, the whole length
of the country, in several meanders, passing first through the Paroch
of Tweeds-moor, the place of its birth, then running eastwards,
it watereth the parishes of Glenholm, Drumelzear, Broughton, Dawick,
Stobo, Lyne, Mannor, Peebles, Traquair, Innerleithen, and from thence
in its course to the March at Galehope-burn, where, leaving Tweeddale,
it beginneth to water the forest on both sides, a little above Elibank.”
[Illustration: THE TWEED]
The Banks of the Tweed abound in simple rural charms as you proceed
downwards from Elibank Tower, and they partake of that peaceful
pastoral character which its green sided hills bestow upon it.
We now come to that part of the course of the Tweed, extending from its
junction with the united rivers Ettrick and Yarrow to the mouth of Gala
Water. The estate of Abbotsford makes up a large part of the whole.
The part of it that borders the Tweed consists of a large and very
beautiful flat haugh, around the margin of which the river flows gently
and clearly over its beds of sparkling pebbles.
The angling from Gala Water foot to Leader foot is all excellent, both
for salmon and trout, when the river is in proper condition; and then
the beauty and interest of all the surrounding features of nature and
the silent grandeur of the holy pile of ruin are such that even the
unsuccessful angler must find pleasure in wandering by the river-side,
quite enough to counterbalance the disappointment of empty baskets.
Sir Walter Scott says:--
“If thou would’st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild but to flout the ruins grey.
When the broken arches are black in night,
And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
When the cold lights’ uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower;
When buttress and buttress alternately,
Seemed framed of ebon and ivory;
When silver edges the imagery,
And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die;
When the distant Tweed is heard to rave
And the howlet to hoot o’er the dead man’s grave;
Then go--but go alone the while--
Then view St. David’s ruined pile;
And, home returning, soothly swear
Was never scene so sad and fair.”
Before leaving this section of the Tweed, we must not forget to mention
that the Knights Templars had a house and establishment on the east
side of the village of Newstead. It was called the Red Abbey. Before
concluding this part of our subject, it appears to us to be very
important, if not essential, to call our readers’ especial attention to
the singular promontory of Old Melrose on the right bank of the river.
It is a high bare head, around which the river runs in such a way as
to convert it into a peninsula. Here it was that the first religious
settlement was made. This monastery was supposed to have been founded
by Columbus or by Aidan, probably about the end of the Sixth Century.
It would appear that it was built of oak wood, thatched with reeds, the
neck of land being enclosed with a stone wall. It is supposed to have
been burned by the Danes. The name given to it was decidedly Celtic
and quite descriptive of its situation--Maol-Ros, signifying Bare
Promontory--and from this the more recent Abbey and the whole of the
more modern parish of Melrose have derived their name.
We now come to a very beautiful, nay, perhaps, we ought to say the
most beautiful part of the Tweed, where it meanders considerably, as it
takes its general course in a bold sweep round the parish of Merton.
On its north side the ground rises to a very considerable height in
cultivated and wooded hills. From several parts of the road that winds
over it, most magnificent views are enjoyed up the vale of the Tweed
including Melrose and the Eildon Hills; and then at the same time,
these rising grounds and the southern banks, which are likewise covered
with timber, give the richest effect of river scenery to the immediate
environs of the stream.
We scarcely know a place anywhere which is so thoroughly embowered in
grand timber as Dryburgh Abbey. The most beautiful fragment of the ruin
is that which is called Saint Mary’s Aisle, which formed the south
aisle of the transept; and let it not be approached save with that holy
awe which is inspired by the recollection of the illustrious dead! for
here repose the ashes of the immortal Sir Walter Scott!
Below Dryburgh Lord Polwarth’s property of Merton begins and runs
for about two miles down the Tweed. As you approach the place of
Mackerston, the immediate bed of the stream becomes more diversified
by rocks, both on its side and in its channel. The Duke of Roxburgh’s
fishings stretch for nearly four miles to a point about half a mile
below Kelso.
Nothing can surpass the beauty of the scene when looked at from Kelso
bridge. And then when it is taken from other points, the bridge itself,
the ruined abbey, the buildings of the town, with the wooded banks and
the broad river form a combination of objects, harmonizing together,
which are rarely to be met with. Each particular description of
scenery requires to be judged of and estimated according to its own
merits. You cannot, with any good effect or propriety, compare a wild,
mountainous and rocky highland scene with a rich, lowland district. But
this we will say, that, of all such lowland scenes, we know of none
that can surpass the environs of Kelso; for whilst the mind is there
filled with all those pleasing associations with peace and plenty,
which such scenes are generally more or less calculated to inspire,
there are many parts of it which would furnish glowing subjects for the
artist. Here the Tweed is joined by the Teviot; and we shall finish
this part of our subject by those beautiful lines from Teviot’s own
poet, Leyden, in his _Scenes of Infancy_:--
“Bosomed in woods where mighty rivers run,
Kelso’s fair vale expands before the sun;
Its rising downs in vernal beauty swell,
And, fringed with hazel, winds each flowery dell;
Green spangled plains to dimpling lawns succeed
And Tempe rises on the banks of Tweed.
Blue o’er the river Kelso’s shadow lies,
And copse-clad isles amid the waters rise.”
Like a gentleman of large fortune, who has just received a great
accession to it, the Tweed, having been joined by the Teviot, leaves
Kelso with a magnitude and an air of dignity and importance that it has
nowhere hitherto assumed during its course, and which it will be found
to maintain, until it is ultimately swallowed up by that grave of all
rivers--the sea. A few miles brings it to the confines of Berwickshire,
and in its way thither it passes through a rich country.
Just before quitting the confines of Roxburghshire the Tweed receives
the classic stream of the Eden, which enters it from the left bank. The
Eden is remarkable for the excellence of the trout, which are natives
of the stream, but they require very considerable skill and great
nicety of art to extract them by means of the angle from their native
element.
And now we must congratulate our kind and courteous reader, as well as
ourselves, that the romantic days of border warfare have been long at
an end; for if it had been otherwise, our noble companion the Tweed,
which has now brought us to a point where he washes England with his
right hand waves whilst he laves Scotland with his left, might have
brought us into some trouble. As he forms the boundary between England
and Scotland from hence to the sea, we must in order to preserve him
as a strictly Scottish river, say little about his right bank, except
what may be necessary for mere illustration. But as we see before us
the truly dilapidated ruins of what was once the strong and important
fortress of Wark Castle, we must bestow a few words upon it.
Wark was the barony and ancient possession of the family of Ross, one
of whom, William de Ross, was a competitor for the crown of Scotland
in the reign of Edward I. of England. It continued in that family to
the end of the Fourteenth Century, when it appears to have become the
possession of the Greys, who took their title from the place, being
styled the Lords Grey of Wark, in the descendants of which family it
has continued to the present time.
The Scottish banks of the river from the Eden water to Coldstream are
richly cultivated and partially wooded by hedgerows and the plantations
of several properties. The view down the course of the stream, which
runs down wooded banks of no great height, and is crossed by the
noble bridge of Coldstream, is extremely beautiful. The village of
Coldstream itself is very pretty with its nice modern cottages and
gardens; but it is likewise interesting from some of its old buildings.
Coldstream was remarkable for its convent of Cistercian nuns, of which
Mr. Chambers gives us the following interesting account:--Previous to
the Reformation Coldstream could boast of a rich priory of Cistercian
nuns; but of the buildings not one fragment now remains. The nunnery
stood upon a spot a little eastwards from the market-place, where
there are still some peculiarly luxuriant gardens, besides a small
burying-ground, now little used. In a slip of waste ground, between
the garden and the river, many bones and a stone coffin were dug up
some years ago; the former supposed to be the most distinguished of
the warriors that fought at Flodden; for there is a tradition that
the abbess sent vehicles to that fatal field and brought away many of
the better orders of the slain, whom she interred here. The field, or
rather hill, of Flodden, is not more than six miles from Coldstream,
and the tall stone that marks the place where the king fell, only about
half that distance, the battle having terminated about three miles from
the spot where it commenced.
General Monk made this his quarters till he found a favourable
opportunity for entering England to effect the Restoration; and it was
here that he raised that regiment that has ever afterwards had the name
of the Coldstream Guards.
The River Till is an important tributary to the Tweed from its right
bank. The Till runs so extremely slow that it forms a curious contrast
with the Tweed, whose course here is very rapid, giving rise to the
following quaint verses:--
“Tweed said to Till,
What gars ye rin sae still?
Till said to Tweed,
Though ye rin wi’ speed,
And I rin slow,
Yet where ye drown ae man
I drown twa.”
We must now proceed to make our last inroad into England--an inroad,
however, very different indeed from those which used to be made by our
ancestors, when they rode at the head of their men-at-arms, for the
purpose of harrying the country and driving a spoil. We go now upon a
peaceful visitation of Norham Castle, certainly the most interesting of
all objects of a similar description on the whole course of the Tweed.
The ancient name of the castle appears to have been Ubbanford. It
stands on a steep bank, partially wooded and overhanging the river.
It seems to have occupied a very large piece of ground as the ruins
are very extensive, consisting of a strong square keep, considerably
shattered, with a number of banks and fragments of buildings enclosed
within an outer wall of a great circuit; the whole forming the most
picturesque subject for the artist. It was here that Edward I. resided
when engaged in acting as umpire in the dispute concerning the Scottish
crown. From its position exactly upon the very line of the border, no
war ever took place between the two countries without subjecting it
to frequent sieges, during which it was repeatedly taken and retaken.
The Greys of Chillingham Castle were often successively captains of
the garrison; yet as the castle was situated in the patrimony of St.
Cuthbert, the property was in the see of Durham till the Reformation.
After that period it passed through various hands.