the same ell-wide walk. We came to a pleasure-house, of which the little
girl had the key; she said it was called the Fog-house, because it was
lined with 'fog,' namely moss. On the outside it resembled some of the
huts in the prints belonging to Captain Cook's Voyages, and within was
like a hay-stack scooped out. It was circular, with a dome-like roof, a
seat all round fixed to the wall, and a table in the middle,--seat, wall,
roof and table all covered with moss in the neatest manner possible. It
was as snug as a bird's nest; I wish we had such a one at the top of our
orchard, only a great deal smaller. We afterwards found that huts of the
same kind were common in the pleasure-grounds of Scotland; but we never
saw any that were so beautifully wrought as this. It had, however,
little else to recommend it, the situation being chosen without judgment;
there was no prospect from it, nor was it a place of seclusion and
retirement, for it stood close to the ell-wide gravel walk. We wished we
could have shoved it about a hundred yards further on, when we arrived at
a bench which was also close to the walk, for just below the bench, the
walk elbowing out into a circle, there was a beautiful spring of clear
water, which we could see rise up continually, at the bottom of a round
stone basin full to the brim, the water gushing out at a little outlet
and passing away under the walk. A reason was wanted for placing the hut
where it is; what a good one would this little spring have furnished for
bringing it hither! Along the whole of the path were openings at
intervals for views of the river, but, as almost always happens in
gentlemen's grounds, they were injudiciously managed; you were prepared
for a dead stand--by a parapet, a painted seat, or some other device.
We stayed some time at the Boniton Fall, which has one great advantage
over the other falls, that it is at the termination of the
pleasure-grounds, and we see no traces of the boundary-line; yet, except
under some accidental circumstances, such as a sunset like that of the
preceding evening, it is greatly inferior to the Cora Linn. We returned
to the inn to dinner. The landlord set the first dish upon the table, as
is common in England, and we were well waited upon. This first dish was
true Scottish--a boiled sheep's head, with the hair singed off; Coleridge
and I ate heartily of it; we had barley broth, in which the sheep's head
had been boiled. A party of tourists whom we had met in the
pleasure-grounds drove from the door while we were waiting for dinner; I
guess they were fresh from England, for they had stuffed the pockets of
their carriage with bundles of heather, roots and all, just as if
Scotland grew no heather but on the banks of the Clyde. They passed away
with their treasure towards Loch Lomond. A party of boys, dressed all
alike in blue, very neat, were standing at the chaise-door; we
conjectured they were charity scholars; but found on inquiry that they
were apprentices to the cotton factory; we were told that they were well
instructed in reading and writing. We had seen in the morning a flock of
girls dressed in grey coming out of the factory, probably apprentices
also.
After dinner set off towards Hamilton, but on foot, for we had to turn
aside to the Cartland Rocks, and our car was to meet us on the road. A
guide attended us, who might almost in size, and certainly in activity,
have been compared with William's companion who hid himself in the niche
of the cavern. His method of walking and very quick step soon excited
our attention. I could hardly keep up with him; he paddled by our side,
just reaching to my shoulder, like a little dog, with his long snout
pushed before him--for he had an enormous nose, and walked with his head
foremost. I said to him, 'How quick you walk!' he replied, '_That_ was
_not_ quick walking,' and when I asked him what he called so, he said
'Five miles an hour,' and then related in how many hours he had lately
walked from Lanerk to Edinburgh, done some errands, and returned to
Lanerk--I have forgotten the particulars, but it was a very short
time--and added that he had an old father who could walk at the rate of
four miles an hour, for twenty-four miles, any day, and had never had an
hour's sickness in his life. 'Then,' said I, 'he has not drunk much
strong liquor?' 'Yes, enough to drown him.' From his eager manner of
uttering this, I inferred that he himself was a drinker; and the man who
met us with the car told William that he gained a great deal of money as
an errand-goer, but spent it all in tippling. He had been a shoemaker,
but could not bear the confinement on account of a weakness in his chest.
The neighbourhood of Lanerk is exceedingly pleasant; we came to a sort of
district of glens or little valleys that cleave the hills, leaving a
cheerful, open country above them, with no superior hills, but an
undulating surface. Our guide pointed to the situation of the Cartland
Crags. We were to cross a narrow valley, and walk down on the other
side, and then we should be at the spot; but the little fellow made a
sharp turn down a footpath to the left, saying, 'We must have some
conversation here.' He paddled on with his small pawing feet till we
came right opposite to a gentleman's house on the other side of the
valley, when he halted, repeating some words, I have forgotten what,
which were taken up by the most distinct echo I ever heard--this is
saying little: it was the most distinct echo that it is possible to
conceive. It shouted the names of our fireside friends in the very tone
in which William and Coleridge spoke; but it seemed to make a joke of me,
and I could not help laughing at my own voice, it was so shrill and pert,
exactly as if some one had been mimicking it very successfully, with an
intention of making me ridiculous. I wished Joanna {41} had been there
to laugh, for the echo is an excellent laugher, and would have almost
made her believe that it was a true story which William has told of her
and the mountains. We turned back, crossed the valley, went through the
orchard and plantations belonging to the gentleman's house. By the bye,
we observed to our guide that the echo must bring many troublesome
visitors to disturb the quiet of the owner of that house. 'Oh no,' said
he, 'he glories in much company.' He was a native of that neighbourhood,
had made a moderate fortune abroad, purchased an estate, built the house,
and raised the plantations; and further, had made a convenient walk
through his woods to the Cartland Crags. The house was modest and neat,
and though not adorned in the best taste, and though the plantations were
of fir, we looked at it with great pleasure, there was such true
liberality and kind-heartedness in leaving his orchard path open, and his
walks unobstructed by gates. I hope this goodness is not often abused by
plunderers of the apple-trees, which were hung with tempting apples close
to the path.
At the termination of the little valley, we descended through a wood
along a very steep path to a muddy stream running over limestone rocks;
turned up to the left along the bed of the stream, and soon we were
closed in by rocks on each side. They were very lofty--of limestone,
trees starting out of them, high and low, overhanging the stream or
shooting up towards the sky. No place of the kind could be more
beautiful if the stream had been clear, but it was of a muddy yellow
colour; had it been a large river, one might have got the better of the
unpleasantness of the muddy water in the grandeur of its roaring, the
boiling up of the foam over the rocks, or the obscurity of its pools.
We had been told that the Cartland Crags were better worth going to see
than the Falls of the Clyde. I did not think so; but I have seen rocky
dells resembling this before, with clear water instead of that muddy
stream, and never saw anything like the Falls of the Clyde. It would be
a delicious spot to have near one's house; one would linger out many a
day in the cool shade of the caverns, and the stream would soothe one by
its murmuring; still, being an old friend, one would not love it the less
for its homely face. Even we, as we passed along, could not help
stopping for a long while to admire the beauty of the lazy foam, for ever
in motion, and never moved away, in a still place of the water, covering
the whole surface of it with streaks and lines and ever-varying circles.
Wild marjoram grew upon the rocks in great perfection and beauty; our
guide gave me a bunch, and said he should come hither to collect a store
for tea for the winter, and that it was 'varra hale-some:' he drank none
else. We walked perhaps half a mile along the bed of the river; but it
might _seem_ to be much further than it was, owing to the difficulty of
the path, and the sharp and many turnings of the glen. Passed two of
Wallace's Caves. There is scarce a noted glen in Scotland that has not a
cave for Wallace or some other hero. Before we left the river the rocks
became less lofty, turned into a wood through which was a convenient path
upwards, met the owner of the house and the echo-ground, and thanked him
for the pleasure which he had provided for us and other travellers by
making such pretty pathways.
It was four o'clock when we reached the place where the car was waiting.
We were anxious to be off, as we had fifteen miles to go; but just as we
were seating ourselves we found that the cushions were missing. William
was forced to go back to the town, a mile at least, and Coleridge and I
waited with the car. It rained, and we had some fear that the evening
would be wet, but the rain soon ceased, though the sky continued
gloomy--an unfortunate circumstance, for we had to travel through a
beautiful country, and of that sort which is most set off by sunshine and
pleasant weather.
Travelled through the Vale or _Trough_ of the Clyde, as it is called, for
ten or eleven miles, having the river on our right. We had fine views
both up and down the river for the first three or four miles, our road
being not close to it, but above its banks, along the open country, which
was here occasionally intersected by hedgerows.
Left our car in the road, and turned down a field to the Fall of
Stonebyres, another of the falls of the Clyde, which I had not heard
spoken of; therefore it gave me the more pleasure. We saw it from the
top of the bank of the river at a little distance. It has not the
imposing majesty of Cora Linn; but it has the advantage of being left to
itself, a grand solitude in the heart of a populous country. We had a
prospect above and below it, of cultivated grounds, with hay-stacks,
houses, hills; but the river's banks were lonesome, steep, and woody,
with rocks near the fall.
A little further on, came more into company with the river; sometimes we
were close to it, sometimes above it, but always at no great distance;
and now the vale became more interesting and amusing. It is very
populous, with villages, hamlets, single cottages, or farm-houses
embosomed in orchards, and scattered over with gentlemen's houses, some
of them very ugly, tall and obtrusive, others neat and comfortable. We
seemed now to have got into a country where poverty and riches were
shaking hands together; pears and apples, of which the crop was abundant,
hung over the road, often growing in orchards unfenced; or there might be
bunches of broom along the road-side in an interrupted line, that looked
like a hedge till we came to it and saw the gaps. Bordering on these
fruitful orchards perhaps would be a patch, its chief produce being gorse
or broom. There was nothing like a moor or common anywhere; but small
plots of uncultivated ground were left high and low, among the potatoes,
corn, cabbages, which grew intermingled, now among trees, now bare. The
Trough of the Clyde is, indeed, a singular and very interesting region;
it is somewhat like the upper part of the vale of Nith, but above the
Nith is much less cultivated ground--without hedgerows or orchards, or
anything that looks like a rich country. We met crowds of people coming
from the kirk; the lasses were gaily dressed, often in white gowns,
coloured satin bonnets, and coloured silk handkerchiefs, and generally
with their shoes and stockings in a bundle hung on their arm. Before we
left the river the vale became much less interesting, resembling a poor
English country, the fields being large, and unluxuriant hedges.
It had been dark long before we reached Hamilton, and William had some
difficulty in driving the tired horse through the town. At the inn they
hesitated about being able to give us beds, the house being
brim-full--lights at every window. We were rather alarmed for our
accommodations during the rest of the tour, supposing the house to be
filled with _tourists_; but they were in general only regular travellers
for out of the main road from town to town we saw scarcely a carriage,
and the inns were empty. There was nothing remarkable in the treatment
we met with at this inn, except the lazy impertinence of the waiter. It
was a townish place, with a great larder set out; the house throughout
dirty.
* * * * *
_Monday_, _August_ 22_d_.--Immediately after breakfast walked to the Duke
of Hamilton's house to view the picture-gallery, chiefly the famous
picture of Daniel in the Lions' Den, by Rubens. It is a large building,
without grandeur, a heavy, lumpish mass, after the fashion of the
Hopetoun H, {45} only five times the size, and with longer legs, which
makes it gloomy. We entered the gate, passed the porter's lodge, where
we saw nobody, and stopped at the front door, as William had done two
years before with Sir William Rush's family. We were met by a little
mean-looking man, shabbily dressed, out of livery, who, we found, was the
porter. After scanning us over, he told us that we ought not to have
come to that door. We said we were sorry for the mistake, but as one of
our party had been there two years before, and was admitted by the same
entrance, we had supposed it was the regular way. After many
hesitations, and having kept us five minutes waiting in the large hall,
while he went to consult with the housekeeper, he informed us that we
could not be admitted at that time, the housekeeper being unwell; but
that we might return in an hour: he then conducted us through long gloomy
passages to an obscure door at the corner of the house. We asked if we
might be permitted to walk in the park in the meantime; and he told us
that this would not be agreeable to the Duke's family. We returned to
the inn discontented enough, but resolved not to waste an hour, if there
were anything else in the neighbourhood worth seeing. The waiter told us
there was a curious place called Baroncleugh, with gardens cut out in
rocks, and we determined to go thither. We had to walk through the town,
which may be about as large as Penrith, and perhaps a mile further, along
a dusty turnpike road. The morning was hot, sunny, and windy, and we
were half tired before we reached the place; but were amply repaid for
our trouble.
The general face of the country near Hamilton is much in the ordinary
English style; not very hilly, with hedgerows, corn fields, and stone
houses. The Clyde is here an open river with low banks, and the country
spreads out so wide that there is no appearance of a regular vale.
Baroncleugh is in a beautiful deep glen through which runs the river
Avon, a stream that falls into the Clyde. The house stands very sweetly
in complete retirement; it has its gardens and terraces one above
another, with flights of steps between, box-trees and yew-trees cut in
fantastic shapes, flower-borders and summer-houses; and, still below,
apples and pears were hanging in abundance on the branches of large old
trees, which grew intermingled with the natural wood, elms, beeches,
etc., even to the water's edge. The whole place is in perfect harmony
with the taste of our ancestors, and the yews and hollies are shaven as
nicely, and the gravel walks and flower-borders kept in as exact order,
as if the spirit of the first architect of the terraces still presided
over them. The opposite bank of the river is left in its natural
wildness, and nothing was to be seen higher up but the deep dell, its
steep banks being covered with fine trees, a beautiful relief or contrast
to the garden, which is one of the most elaborate old things ever seen, a
little hanging garden of Babylon.
I was sorry to hear that the owner of this sweet place did not live there
always. He had built a small thatched house to eke out the old one: it
was a neat dwelling, with no false ornaments. We were exceedingly sorry
to quit this spot, which is left to nature and past times, and should
have liked to have pursued the glen further up; we were told that there
was a ruined castle; and the walk itself must be very delightful; but we
wished to reach Glasgow in good time, and had to go again to Hamilton
House. Returned to the town by a much shorter road, and were very angry
with the waiter for not having directed us to it; but he was too great a
man to speak three words more than he could help.
We stopped at the proper door of the Duke's house, and seated ourselves
humbly upon a bench, waiting the pleasure of the porter, who, after a
little time, informed us that we could not be admitted, giving no reason
whatever. When we got to the inn, we could just gather from the waiter
that it was not usual to refuse admittance to strangers; but that was
all: he could not, or would not, help us, so we were obliged to give it
up, which mortified us, for I had wished much to see the picture.
William vowed that he would write that very night to Lord Archibald
Hamilton, stating the whole matter, which he did from Glasgow.
I ought to have mentioned the park, though, as we were not allowed to
walk there, we saw but little of it. It looked pleasant, as all parks
with fine trees must be, but, as it seemed to be only a large, nearly
level, plain, it could not be a particularly beautiful park, though it
borders upon the Clyde, and the Avon runs, I believe, through it, after
leaving the solitude of the glen of Baroncleugh.
Quitted Hamilton at about eleven o'clock. There is nothing interesting
between Hamilton and Glasgow till we came to Bothwell Castle, a few miles
from Hamilton. The country is cultivated, but not rich, the fields
large, a perfect contrast to the huddling together of hills and trees,
corn and pasture grounds, hay-stacks, cottages, orchards, broom and
gorse, but chiefly broom, that had amused us so much the evening before
in passing through the Trough of the Clyde. A native of Scotland would
not probably be satisfied with the account I have given of the Trough of
the Clyde, for it is one of the most celebrated scenes in Scotland. We
certainly received less pleasure from it than we had expected; but it was
plain that this was chiefly owing to the unfavourable circumstances under
which we saw it--a gloomy sky and a cold blighting wind. It is a very
beautiful district, yet there, as in all the other scenes of Scotland
celebrated for their fertility, we found something which gave us a notion
of barrenness, of what was not altogether genial. The new fir and larch
plantations, here as in almost every other part of Scotland, contributed
not a little to this effect.
Crossed the Clyde not far from Hamilton, and had the river for some miles
at a distance from us, on our left; but after having gone, it might be,
three miles, we came to a porter's lodge on the left side of the road,
where we were to turn to Bothwell Castle, which is in Lord Douglas's
grounds. The woman who keeps the gate brought us a book, in which we
wrote down our names. Went about half a mile before we came to the
pleasure-grounds. Came to a large range of stables, where we were to
leave the car; but there was no one to unyoke the horse, so William was
obliged to do it himself, a task which he performed very awkwardly, being
then new to it. We saw the ruined castle embosomed in trees, passed the
house, and soon found ourselves on the edge of a steep brow immediately
above and overlooking the course of the river Clyde through a deep hollow
between woods and green steeps. We had approached at right angles from
the main road to the place over a flat, and had seen nothing before us
but a nearly level country terminated by distant slopes, the Clyde hiding
himself in his deep bed. It was exceedingly delightful to come thus
unexpectedly upon such a beautiful region.
The Castle stands nobly, overlooking the Clyde. When we came up to it I
was hurt to see that flower-borders had taken place of the natural
overgrowings of the ruin, the scattered stones and wild plants. It is a
large and grand pile, of red freestone, harmonizing perfectly with the
rocks of the river, from which, no doubt, it has been hewn. When I was a
little accustomed to the unnaturalness of a modern garden, I could not
help admiring the excessive beauty and luxuriance of some of the plants,
particularly the purple-flowered clematis, and a broad-leaved creeping
plant without flowers, which scrambled up the castle wall along with the
ivy, and spread its vine-like branches so lavishly that it seemed to be
in its natural situation, and one could not help thinking that, though
not self-planted among the ruins of this country, it must somewhere have
its natural abode in such places. If Bothwell Castle had not been close
to the Douglas mansion we should have been disgusted with the possessor's
miserable conception of 'adorning' such a venerable ruin; but it is so
very near to the house that of necessity the pleasure-grounds must have
extended beyond it, and perhaps the neatness of a shaven lawn and the
complete desolation natural to a ruin might have made an unpleasing
contrast; and besides, being within the precincts of the
pleasure-grounds, and so very near to the modern mansion of a noble
family, it has forfeited in some degree its independent majesty, and
becomes a tributary to the mansion; its solitude being interrupted, it
has no longer the same command over the mind in sending it back into past
times, or excluding the ordinary feelings which we bear about us in daily
life. We had then only to regret that the castle and house were so near
to each other; and it was impossible not to regret it; for the ruin
presides in state over the river, far from city or town, as if it might
have had a peculiar privilege to preserve its memorials of past ages and
maintain its own character and independence for centuries to come.
We sat upon a bench under the high trees, and had beautiful views of the
different reaches of the river above and below. On the opposite bank,
which is finely wooded with elms and other trees, are the remains of an
ancient priory, built upon a rock: and rock and ruin are so blended
together that it is impossible to separate the one from the other.
Nothing can be more beautiful than the little remnants of this holy
place; elm trees--for we were near enough to distinguish them by their
branches--grow out of the walls, and overshadow a small but very elegant
window. It can scarcely be conceived what a grace the castle and priory
impart to each other; and the river Clyde flows on smooth and unruffled
below, seeming to my thoughts more in harmony with the sober and stately
images of former times, than if it had roared over a rocky channel,
forcing its sound upon the ear. It blended gently with the warbling of
the smaller birds and chattering of the larger ones that had made their
nests in the ruins. In this fortress the chief of the English nobility
were confined after the battle of Bannockburn. If a man is to be a
prisoner, he scarcely could have a more pleasant place to solace his
captivity; but I thought that for close confinement I should prefer the
banks of a lake or the sea-side. The greatest charm of a brook or river
is in the liberty to pursue it through its windings; you can then take it
in whatever mood you like; silent or noisy, sportive or quiet. The
beauties of a brook or river must be sought, and the pleasure is in going
in search of them; those of a lake or of the sea come to you of
themselves. These rude warriors cared little perhaps about either; and
yet if one may judge from the writings of Chaucer and from the old
romances, more interesting passions were connected with natural objects
in the days of chivalry than now, though going in search of scenery, as
it is called, had not then been thought of. I had heard nothing of
Bothwell Castle, at least nothing that I remembered, therefore, perhaps,
my pleasure was greater, compared with what I received elsewhere, than
others might feel.