a boat's crew, and a lassie who was not very pretty, but who lived on
the lake, and had found the means to get "Captain Rob" and his men
pretty well under her thumb. We were all embarked, the lassie in the
stern-sheets with the captain, and ourselves, though we "paid the scot,"
of no more consideration than our portmanteaus. I was amused, for it was
the first instance I had seen in any country (my own not excepted) of
thorough emancipation from the distinction of superiors. Luckily, the
girl was bent on showing the captain to advantage, and by ingenious
prompting and catechism she induced him to do what probably was his
custom when he could not better amuse himself, point out the localities
as the boat sped on, and quote the Lady of the Lake with an accent which
made it a piece of good fortune to have "crammed" the poem beforehand.
[Illustration: THE FORTH BRIDGE FROM THE NORTH]
The shores of the lake are flat and uninteresting at the head, but
towards the scene of Scott's romance they rise into bold precipices, and
gradually become worthy of their celebrity. The Trosachs are a cluster
of small, green mountains, strewn, or rather piled, with shrubs and
mossy verdure, and from a distance you would think only a bird, or
Ranald of the Mist, could penetrate their labyrinthine recesses. Captain
Rob showed us successively the Braes of Balquidder, Rob Roy's birth- and
burial-place, Benledi, and the crag from which hung, by the well-woven
skirts of braid cloth, the worthy bailie of Glasgow; and, beneath a
precipice of remarkable wildness, the half-intoxicated steersman raised
his arm, and began to repeat, in the most unmitigated gutturals,--
"High _o'er_ the south hung Ben_venue_,
Down _to_ the lakes _his_ masses threw,
Crags, knowls, and mounds _con_fusedly hurl'd
The frag_ments_ of an earlier _wurruld_."
I have underlined it according to the captain's judicious emphasis,
and in the last word have endeavored to spell after his remarkable
pronunciation. Probably to a Frenchman, however, it would have seemed
all very fine,--for Captain Rob (I must do him justice, though he broke
the strap of my portmanteau) was as good-looking a ruffian as you would
sketch on a summer's tour.
Some of the loveliest water I have ever seen in my life (and I am rather
an amateur at that element to look at) lies deep down at the bases of
these divine Trosachs. The usual approaches from lake to mountain (beach
or sloping shore) are here dispensed with; and straight up from the deep
water rise the green precipices and bold and ragged rocks, overshadowing
the glassy mirror below with tints like a cool corner in a landscape of
Ruysdael's. It is something (indeed, on a second thought, exceedingly)
like Lake George; only that the islands in this extremity of Loch
Katrine lie closer together, and permit the sun no entrance except
by a ray almost perpendicular. A painter will easily understand the
effect of this,--the loss of all that _makes a surface_ to the water,
and the consequent far depth to the eye, as if the boat in which you
shot over it brought with it its own water and sent its ripple through
the transparent air. I write _currente calamo_, and have no time to
clear up my meaning, but it will be evident to all lovers of nature.
Captain Rob put up his helm for a little fairy green island, lying like
a lapful of green moss on the water, and, rounding a point, we ran
suddenly into a cove sheltered by a tree, and in a moment the boat
grated on the pebbles of a natural beach perhaps ten feet in length. A
flight of winding steps, made roughly of roots and stones, ascended from
the water's edge.
"Gentlemen and ladies!" said the captain, with a hiccup, "this is
Ellen's Isle. This is the gnarled oak" (catching at a branch of a tree
as the boat swung astern), "and--you'll please to go up them steps, an'
I'll tell you the rest in Ellen's bower."
The Highland lassie sprang on shore, and we followed up the steep
ascent, arriving breathless at last at the door of a fanciful bower,
built by Lord Willoughby d'Eresby, the owner of the island, exactly
after the description in the Lady of the Lake. The chairs were made of
crooked branches of trees and covered with deer-skins, the tables were
laden with armor and every variety of weapon, and the rough beams of
the building were hung with antlers and other spoils of the chase.
"Here's where she lived!" said the captain, with the gravity of a
cicerone at the Forum, "and _noo_, if ye'll come out, I'll _show_ you
the echo!"
We followed to the highest point of the island, and the Highlandman gave
a scream that showed considerable practice, but I thought he would have
burst his throat in the effort. The awful echo went round, "as mentioned
in the bill of performance," every separate mountain screaming back the
discord till you would have thought the Trosachs a crew of mocking
giants. It was a wonderful echo, but, like most wonders, I could have
been content to have had less for my money.
There was a "small silver beach" on the mainland opposite, and above it
a high mass of mountain.
"There," said the captain, "gentlemen and ladies, is where Fitz-James
_blew'd_ his bugle, and waited for the 'light shallop' of Ellen Douglas;
and here, where you landed and came up _them_ steps, is where she
brought him to the bower, and the very tree's still there,--as you see'd
me tak' hold of it,--and over the hill, yonder, is where the gallant
gray giv' out, and breathed _his_ last, and (will you turn round, if you
please, them that likes?) yonder's where Fitz-James met Red Murdoch that
killed Blanche of Devon, and right across this water _swum_ young Greme
that disdained the regular boat, and I s'pose on that lower step set the
old Harper and Ellen many a time a-watching for Douglas,--and now, if
you'd like to hear the echo once more----"
"Heaven forbid!" was the universal cry; and, in fear of our ears, we put
the bower between us and Captain Rob's lungs, and followed the Highland
girl back to the boat.
From Ellen's Isle to the head of the small creek, so beautifully
described in the "Lady of the Lake," the scenery has the same air of
lavish and graceful vegetation, and the same features of mingled
boldness and beauty. It is a spot altogether that one is sure to live
much in with memory. I see it as clearly now as then.
The whiskey had circulated pretty freely among the crew, and all were
more or less intoxicated. Captain Rob's first feat on his legs was to
drop my friend's gun-case and break it to pieces, for which he instantly
got a cuff between the eyes from the boxing dandy that would have done
the business for a softer head. The Scot was a powerful fellow, and I
anticipated a row; but the tremendous power of the blow and the skill
with which it was planted quite subdued him. He rose from the grass as
white as a sheet, but quietly shouldered the portmanteau with which he
had fallen, and trudged on with sobered steps to the inn.
We took a post-chaise immediately for Callender, and it was not till we
were five miles from the foot of the lake that I lost my apprehensions
of an apparition of the Highlander from the darkening woods. We arrived
at Callender at nine, and the next morning at sunrise were on our way to
breakfast at Stirling.
THE ISLAND OF STAFFA AND FINGAL'S CAVE.
BERIAH BOTFIELD.
[The islands adjoining the Scottish Highlands have much in them
to interest the traveller, both in the character and habits of
the people and the aspects of nature. As respects natural
phenomena, the scenery of the island of Staffa and Fingal's
Cave is of especial interest, the development of columnar
basalt rocks here being unequalled in extent and perfection.
From Botfield's "Journal of a Tour through the Highlands of
Scotland during the Summer of 1829" we select the following
description of Staffa and the adjacent coast and islands.]
The full moon shone in cloudless splendor upon the tranquil waters of
the bay and the dark shore of Morven. Lights were occasionally seen to
gleam from the motionless vessels, and, in the stillness of the night,
the distant waterfalls were heard to pour amidst the woody recesses of
Drumfin, the romantic residence of McLean, the laird of Coll, on the
opposite side of the bay. Beyond the mouth of the harbor, across the
Sound of Mull, appeared the rugged coast and wild hills of Morven, so
celebrated in the heroic strains of Ossian, upon which, whatever may be
the opinion of the spectator as to the authenticity of these celebrated
poems, it is impossible to look, at such a time as this, without the
deepest emotion. Indeed, the celebrated traveller, Dr. Clarke, who
ever regarded them as an ingenious fiction, blended with a very
scanty portion of traditional information, confessed that he could not,
nevertheless, avoid feeling some degree of local enthusiasm as he passed
the shores upon which so vast a superstructure of amazing but visionary
fable had been erected....
At daybreak we were summoned on board the steamboat, whence we enjoyed a
pleasing prospect of the woods and waterfalls surrounding the handsome
modern mansion of Drumfin, the residence of McLean, "the chief of the
sandy Coll," situated under a range of woody cliffs, upon the margin
of a lovely lake, at the eastern point of the Bay of Tobermory. Upon
emerging from this harbor, the opening of Loch Sunart, an arm of the sea
which deeply indents the rugged coast of Morven, and separates it from
the still more wild and rugged district of Ardnamurchan, appeared on our
right....
Upon the wild mountain-shore of Ardnamurchan, immediately upon the edge
of the sea, the castle of Mingarry appeared, "sternly placed," being
surrounded by a polygonal wall, whose edges coincide with those of the
ledge of rocks on which it stands; and though it can no longer be said
"to overawe the woodland and the waste," yet it is an object of striking
interest both from its situation and ancient history. The cliffs which
bind this rude shore scarcely rise beyond sixty or one hundred feet in
height, but are of a peculiarly savage character, which, combined with
the prevailing swell of the mighty Western Ocean, renders any attempt at
landing both difficult and dangerous.
[As they proceeded, a long chain of islands was passed, while
on the coast at length appeared Cailleach Head, so called from
the extremely close resemblance of a portion of the rock to the
human head. Thence they gained a magnificent view of the coast
of Canna, and saw, beautiful in the distance, the dark-blue
mountains of the island of Skye, while other islands gemmed the
waters nearer at hand.]
Upon this beautiful view of these islands we longed for winged feet to
leap from isle to isle; and though the number of the Western Islands
exceeds two hundred, our flight of fancy would not
"pause till perched on Kilda's steep,
The last fair daughter of the Western deep."
On emerging from the Sound of Mull, and passing the stormy cape of
Cailleach Head, we observed the bold rocks of the western coast of Mull,
veined with trap, and frequented by flocks of sea-fowl. As we proceeded
down the strait, between the islands of Coll and of Mull, the little
archipelago of the Treshanish Islands came in sight. As we drew near
these singular islands, consisting of Fladda, Linga, Bach, and the two
Cairnburgs, we gradually discerned their columnar structure, which,
though not so decided as that of Staffa, yet appeared sufficiently
evident to warrant the supposition that these are similar rocks of
basalt emerging from the deep, and just sufficiently clothed with
verdure to merit the appellation of islands. Upon the larger of the
Cairnburgs we saw, upon our right, as we approached its shore, a ruined
fortalice, used as a place of refuge by the warlike and turbulent
McLeans of Duart. This was a place of strength in the Norwegian times,
but is now only tenanted by a few wandering sheep, as are also Fladda
and Bach, which last, from its singularly oval shape, has obtained from
mariners the name of the Dutchman's Cap.
This little chain of islets, with their treble summits and varied forms,
appeared under a thousand different aspects as we advanced between
them and the coast of Mull. Engaged as our attention had been by these
interesting objects, it was effectually diverted when we beheld, for the
first time, the celebrated island of Staffa, so justly esteemed one of
the greatest natural curiosities the world can boast, and well worth all
the perils of the voyage; since no description, however eloquent, no
picture, however vivid, can portray this admirable demonstration of
nature's power as it is seen and felt by the beholder.
Beyond Staffa we discerned, as yet indistinctly, the tower of the
cathedral upon the Isle of Iona; and, more distantly to the extreme
west, the island of Tiree; while close upon our left appeared the range
of rocky precipices which render the coast of Mull so interesting.... In
the distance rose proudly to heaven the lofty summit of Ben More, and
the lesser mountain of Mamclachaig, in Mull.
Little islets, some of them bearing vestiges of ancient forts, are
scattered over the face of the deep, between Ulva and Staffa, to which
island, as we approached, our gaze was eagerly directed; and as we
beheld its unrivalled columnar structure more distinctly, we were
enabled to appreciate more justly the far-famed wonders of this precious
gem of the sea. Having stayed our course underneath its most precipitous
and attractive side, fronting the southwest, we instantly got into the
boat, and rowed off for Fingal's Cave, over unusually quiescent water.
As the tide was ebbing fast, we landed at the entrance of the cave
underneath the most magnificent arch it is possible to conceive; the
mouth of the cave being seventy feet high and about forty-two broad.
We scrambled on without difficulty along its eastern side, over the
flat tops of the broken yet upright pillars, which form an excellent
causeway, into the interior of the cave, and there contemplated, with
infinite awe and admiration, this magnificent temple of the God of
Nature....
This celebrated cave is entirely composed of basaltic pillars, having
from five to six sides in general, but varying to seven or eight, the
ends of which are generally about two feet in diameter, accurately
corresponding with each other at the roof and bottom of the cavern,
which has been formed, it may be conjectured, by the action of the sea
undermining the jointed columns, and thus producing the excavation,
which gradually diminishes in breadth to its termination, two hundred
and twenty-seven feet from its entrance. This majestic vault is
poetically termed in Gaelic, Uiamh Binn--the Musical Cave--from the echo
of the waves within its mighty recesses, and somewhat unaccountably has
obtained the name of Fingal, though tradition has not connected it in
any way with the illustrious exploits of that Ossianic hero.
As the tide never entirely leaves the cave, the only floor it has is the
beautifully translucent green wave of the sea, reflecting from its bosom
those tints which vary and harmonize the darker hues of the rock, and
often throwing on the basaltic columns the flickering lights which its
undulating surface receives from the rays of the sun without.
The roof of the cave is extremely curious and beautiful, the interstices
between the pillars being filled up by stalactites of varied hue, whose
beautiful tints have the fine effect of greatly enriching this natural
mosaic work. The murmur of the swelling tide, mingling with the
deep-toned echoes of the vault, which grandly reverberated to the
repeated reports of our double-barrelled pistol, added to the stupendous
magnificence of the columns, and the splendid singularity of the scene,
produced emotions in the mind which defy description, and which future
impressions will never be able to obliterate.
Reluctantly quitting the Cave of Fingal, we proceeded in our boat under
the highest part of the magnificent colonnade of basaltic pillars, which
rise to the height of one hundred and twelve feet above high-water
mark, between Fingal's Cave and a square dark aperture in the lowest
stratum of the rock called the Boat Cave, because it is accessible by
that mode alone, and runs in the rock one hundred and forty feet, like
the gallery of a mine. The columnar structure of the trap rock is
extremely evident above and around this cave, and continues equally so
as far as the Cormorant's or McKinnon's Cave to the west, which derives
its former name from the feathered race that inhabit it, and of which a
fine specimen flew over our heads as we approached the spacious entrance
of the cave.
This singular aperture is peculiarly striking from the simplicity and
regularity of its form. The columns are extremely perfect, and rise
immediately from a black amorphous mass of indurated matter, through
which are dispersed nodules and fragments of a still darker rock,
altogether closely resembling the scoriae of a volcano, strongly
corroborative of the igneous origin of basaltic rocks. The height of
this cave is fifty feet, its breadth forty-eight, and its length two
hundred and twenty-four feet. The range of columns over its front is
extremely beautiful, being hollowed or bent into a concave recess, while
the upper part presents a curious and regular geometric ceiling of a
striking and unusual appearance.
Repassing the Boat Cave and the range of columns above it, we landed
below the echoing arch of the great cave, and availing ourselves of the
natural steps afforded by the gigantic causeway, which rises step by
step up to the base of the grand colonnade, walked to the detached rock
called Buachaille ([Greek: Bougolos]), or the Herdsman. This noted rock
rises about thirty feet above the waves, consisting of an agglomeration
of columns resting against each other, and meeting, until they form a
conical body, which appears to lie upon a bed of singularly curved
horizontal columns visible only at low water,--an advantage which we
fortunately enjoyed, and found several sea anemones in the hollows of
the rocks.
Passing a rugged point where the causeway projects considerably, we came
suddenly upon the Scallop or Clamshell Cave, so justly esteemed one of
the most wonderful features of this famous island. This cave is a large
rent or fissure in the rock, one hundred and thirty feet long, thirty in
height, and eighteen in breadth at its entrance, where it presents on
one side the singular phenomenon of the curved and contorted, yet as
usual polygonal, columns of basalt, bent so as to form a series of ribs,
each forty or fifty feet long, without a joint, their ends standing up
and terminating abruptly, not unlike the inside view of the timbers of a
ship. On the opposite side of the cave the broken ends of the pillars
are so disposed as to bear a general resemblance to the surface of a
honeycomb. The lateral dimensions of this cave gradually contract until
they terminate in a long, narrow fissure in the rock. By the continued
basaltic causeway on the northern side access is obtained to the
table-summit of the island, upon which black cattle find good pasturage,
though a ruined hut and an extensive prospect are all that can be
expected in requital of the fatigue of the ascent.
This celebrated island, it may be remarked, lies in the same longitude
with the Giant's Causeway on the northern coast of Ireland.
Returning from the Clamshell Cave round the point of the causeway, we
regained the Buachaille rock, under which, in the narrow channel between
it and the causeway, just sufficient to allow it to swim, we found our
boat, and were conveyed in it back to the steamboat, whence we surveyed,
with unsated curiosity, the wonderful island we had just explored, and
had ample opportunity of appreciating the truth of its Norwegian
derivation from _staff_, a stave, to which those barbarians likened its
columns. The grand southern facade of the island is formed of three beds
of trap-rock of unequal thickness; the lowest being a conglomerate
tufaceous trap, about fifty feet thick on the western side, but, in
consequence of its inclination, disappearing under the sea a little to
the westward of the great cave. The middle bed is composed of basaltic
columns, placed vertically on the plane of their bed, and of unequal
depth, varying from thirty-six to fifty-four feet. The upper stratum
consists of amorphous and tufaceous trap, intermixed with small basaltic
veins and columns, and by its inequality and depth forms the contour of
the island, whose surface is covered with turf, and presents nothing
remarkable. The cliffs upon the northern shore of the island are very
rugged and irregular, and contain about five caves of lesser note, being
remarkable only for the resounding of the waves upon breaking into them,
resembling much "the cannon's opening roar."
[Not far removed from Staffa is the famous isle of Iona,
celebrated as the place where Columba, an Irish sixth century
saint, founded a monastery and converted the inhabitants from
Druidism to Christianity. The establishment founded by him
flourished for centuries, and the ruins of the cathedral and
other antique buildings still remain. One of these, "the Reilig
Ouran, to the south of St. Oran's Chapel, was for centuries the
ordinary burial-place of the Scottish kings, whose tombs, to
the number of forty-eight, form a long and continuous series of
oblong narrow stones, laid flat side by side, and bearing
scrolls and effigies, but no inscriptions."]
Tradition has recorded Fergus the Second as the earliest monarch of the
line, having been entombed about 420 A.D., and included among the number
his successors down to Macbeth; though Macculloch conjectures, from the
circumstance of the body of Alexander II., who died at Kerrera, having
been conveyed to Melrose for burial, that Iona did not enjoy so great
a reputation as the burial-place of kings as it is commonly said to
have done in the earlier ages of the Scottish monarchy. However, our
conductor, parallel to the royal tombs of Scotland, pointed out to us
a similar line, containing eight Norwegian princes or viceroys of the
island, during the remote period when that barbarous people exercised
sovereignty over the Isles of the Gael. These tombs are chiefly
distinguished by the Runic knots and curious representations of vessels
rudely sculptured upon the oblong pieces of primitive rock which cover
their graves. Adjoining these, a row of four similar stones indicate the
graves of as many Irish kings, near to which is said to lie one king of
France. Altogether they constitute perhaps the most extensive
association of crowned heads in the habitable globe.
[The latter "kings" were perhaps but chiefs, and here, near the
royal tombs, are buried most of the insular Highland
chieftains, the Macdonalds, the Macleans, and others of ancient
days.]
IRELAND AND ITS CAPITAL.
MATTHEW WOODS, M. D.
[Among recent books of travel few have attained more immediate
and flattering success than Dr. Woods's "Rambles of a
Physician," the racy story of a run through Ireland, Britain,
and the continent of Europe. The author has keen powers of
observation and fluency in description, and has put on record
much that other travellers fail to mention. We give his
_resume_ of his run through Ireland and his telling description
of what he saw in the people's quarter of Dublin.]
I have been strolling at leisure through the streets, and find myself at
the end of the long twilight perplexed instead of pleased by what I have
seen. Why is it so difficult to get at the truth about Ireland? Why is
it that, when a man begins to talk about even its beauty, he exaggerates
it beyond recognition, and that the very few who do give the plain facts
are not believed? Why do I read in a little book that I have just found
on the parlor table, and which explains the origin of the name "Emerald
Isle," the following words, paraphrased from a popular history: "The
name Emerald Isle is generally supposed to have been derived from the
_evergreen appearance of her shores_, whereas it really originated from
the ring which was set with the words 'Optimo Smaragdo,' and which Pope
Adrian sent to King Henry IV. as the instrument of his investiture with
the dominion of the land." Now, the truth is, Ireland's shores are not
"evergreen;" not green at all, but brown and barren, with occasional
patches of bright yellow when the _prussach's_ in bloom, and bronze when
the blossoms fall.