ferry-house opposite to Bunawe, where we gave the men a glass of whisky;
but our chief motive for landing was to look about the place, which had a
most wild aspect at that time. It was a low promontory, pushed far into
the water, narrowing the lake exceedingly; in the obscurity occasioned by
the mist and rain it appeared to be an island; it was stained and
weather-beaten, a rocky place, seeming to bear no produce but such as
might be cherished by cold and storms, lichens or the incrustations of
sea rocks. We rowed right across the water to the mouth of the river of
Loch Awe, our boat following the ferry-boat which was conveying the
tinker crew to the other side, whither they were going to lodge, as the
men told us, in some kiln, which they considered as their right and
privilege--a lodging always to be found where there was any arable
land--for every farm has its kiln to dry the corn in: another proof of
the wetness of the climate. The kilns are built of stone, covered in,
and probably as good a shelter as the huts in which these Highland
vagrants were born. They gather sticks or heather for their fire, and,
as they are obstinate beggars, for the men said they would not be denied,
they probably have plenty of food with little other trouble than that of
wandering in search of it, for their smutty faces and tinker equipage
serve chiefly for a passport to a free and careless life. It rained very
heavily, and the wind blew when we crossed the lake, and their boat and
ours went tilting over the high waves. They made a romantic appearance;
three women were of the party; two men rowed them over; the lame fellow
sate at one end of the boat, and his companion at the other, each with an
enormous fishing-rod, which looked very graceful, something like masts to
the boat. When we had landed at the other side we saw them, after having
begged at the ferry-house, strike merrily through the fields, no doubt
betaking themselves to their shelter for the night.
We were completely wet when we reached the inn; the landlady wanted to
make a fire for me up-stairs, but I went into her own parlour to undress,
and her daughter, a pretty little girl, who could speak a few words of
English, waited on me; I rewarded her with one of the penny books bought
at Dumfries for Johnny, with which she was greatly delighted. We had an
excellent supper--fresh salmon, a fowl, gooseberries and cream, and
potatoes; good beds; and the next morning boiled milk and bread, and were
only charged seven shillings and sixpence for the whole--horse, liquor,
supper, and the two breakfasts. We thought they had made a mistake, and
told them so--for it was only just half as much as we had paid the day
before at Dalmally, the case being that Dalmally is in the main road of
the tourists. The landlady insisted on my bringing away a little cup
instead of our tin can, which she told me had been taken from the car by
some children: we set no little value on this cup as a memorial of the
good woman's honesty and kindness, and hoped to have brought it home.
. . .
* * * * *
_Friday_, _September_ 2_d_.--Departed at about seven o'clock this
morning, having to travel eight miles down Loch Etive, and then to cross
a ferry. Our road was at first at a considerable distance from the lake,
and out of sight of it, among undulating hills covered with coppice
woods, resembling the country between Coniston and Windermere, but it
afterwards carried us close to the water's edge; and in this part of our
ride we were disappointed. We knew that the high mountains were all at
the head of the lake, therefore had not expected the same awful grandeur
which we beheld the day before, and perceived by glimpses; but the
gentleman whom we met with at Dalmally had told us that there were many
fine situations for gentlemen's seats on this part of the lake, which had
made us expect greater loveliness near the shores, and better
cultivation. It is true there are pleasant bays, with grounds prettily
sloping to the water, and coppice woods, where houses would stand in
shelter and sun, looking on the lake; but much is yet wanting--waste
lands to be ploughed, peat-mosses drained, hedgerows reared; and the
woods demand a grant of longer life than is now their privilege.
But after we had journeyed about six miles a beautiful scene opened upon
us. The morning had been gloomy, and at this time the sun shone out,
scattering the clouds. We looked right down the lake, that was covered
with streams of dazzling sunshine, which revealed the indentings of the
dark shores. On a bold promontory, on the same side of the loch where we
were, stood an old castle, an irregular tall building, not without
majesty; and beyond, with leagues of water between, our eyes settled upon
the island of Mull, a high mountain, green in the sunshine, and overcast
with clouds,--an object as inviting to the fancy as the evening sky in
the west, and though of a terrestrial green, almost as visionary. We saw
that it was an island of the seas but were unacquainted with its name; it
was of a gem-like colour, and as soft as the sky. The shores of Loch
Etive, in their moorish, rocky wildness, their earthly bareness, as they
lay in length before us, produced a contrast which, with the pure sea,
the brilliant sunshine, the long distance, contributed to the aerial and
romantic power with which the mountain island was invested.
Soon after, we came to the ferry. The boat being on the other shore, we
had to wait a considerable time, though the water was not wide, and our
call was heard immediately. The boatmen moved with surly tardiness, as
if glad to make us know that they were our masters. At this point the
lake was narrowed to the breadth of not a very wide river by a round ear
or promontory on the side on which we were, and a low ridge of peat-mossy
ground on the other. It was a dreary place, shut out from the beautiful
prospect of the Isle of Mull, and Dunstaffnage Castle--so the fortress
was called. Four or five men came over with the boat; the horse was
unyoked, and being harshly driven over rough stones, which were as
slippery as ice, with slimy seaweed, he was in terror before he reached
the boat, and they completed the work by beating and pushing him by main
force over the ridge of the boat, for there was no open end, or plank, or
any other convenience for shipping either horse or carriage. I was very
uneasy when we were launched on the water. A blackguard-looking fellow,
blind of one eye, which I could not but think had been put out in some
strife or other, held him by force like a horse-breaker, while the poor
creature fretted, and stamped with his feet against the bare boards,
frightening himself more and more with every stroke; and when we were in
the middle of the water I would have given a thousand pounds to have been
sure that we should reach the other side in safety. The tide was rushing
violently in, making a strong eddy with the stream of the loch, so that
the motion of the boat and the noise and foam of the waves terrified him
still more, and we thought it would be impossible to keep him in the
boat, and when we were just far enough from the shore to have been all
drowned he became furious, and, plunging desperately, his hind-legs were
in the water, then, recovering himself, he beat with such force against
the boat-side that we were afraid he should send his feet through. All
the while the men were swearing terrible oaths, and cursing the poor
beast, redoubling their curses when we reached the landing-place, and
whipping him ashore in brutal triumph.
We had only room for half a heartful of joy when we set foot on dry land,
for another ferry was to be crossed five miles further. We had intended
breakfasting at this house if it had been a decent place; but after this
affair we were glad to pay the men off and depart, though I was not well
and needed refreshment. The people made us more easy by assuring us that
we might easily swim the horse over the next ferry. The first mile or
two of our road was over a peat-moss; we then came near to the seashore,
and had beautiful views backwards towards the Island of Mull and
Dunstaffnage Castle, and forward where the sea ran up between the hills.
In this part, on the opposite side of the small bay or elbow of the sea,
was a gentleman's house on a hillside, {155} and a building on the
hill-top which we took for a lighthouse, but were told that it belonged
to the mansion, and was only lighted up on rejoicing days--the laird's
birthday, for instance.
Before we had left the peat-moss to travel close to the sea-shore we
delighted ourselves with looking on a range of green hills, in shape like
those bordering immediately upon the sea, abrupt but not high; they were,
in fact, a continuation of the same; but retiring backwards, and rising
from the black peat-moss. These hills were of a delicate green, uncommon
in Scotland; a foaming rivulet ran down one part, and near it lay two
herdsmen full in the sun, with their dogs, among a troop of black cattle
which were feeding near, and sprinkled over the whole range of hills--a
pastoral scene, to our eyes the more beautiful from knowing what a
delightful prospect it must overlook. We now came under the steeps by
the sea-side, which were bold rocks, mouldering scars, or fresh with
green grass. Under the brow of one of these rocks was a burying-ground,
with many upright grave-stones and hay-cocks between, and fenced round by
a wall neatly sodded. Near it were one or two houses, with out-houses
under a group of trees, but no chapel. The neatness of the
burying-ground would in itself have been noticeable in any part of
Scotland where we have been; but it was more interesting from its
situation than for its own sake--within the sound of the gentlest waves
of the sea, and near so many quiet and beautiful objects. There was a
range of hills opposite, which we were here first told were the hills of
Morven, so much sung of by Ossian. We consulted with some men respecting
the ferry, who advised us by all means to send our horse round the loch,
and go ourselves over in the boat: they were very civil, and seemed to be
intelligent men, yet all disagreed about the length of the loch, though
we were not two miles from it: one said it was only six miles long,
another ten or fifteen, and afterwards a man whom we met told us it was
twenty.
We lost sight of the sea for some time, crossing a half-cultivated space,
then reached Loch Creran, a large irregular sea loch, with low sloping
banks, coppice woods, and uncultivated grounds, with a scattering of corn
fields; as it appeared to us, very thinly inhabited: mountains at a
distance. We found only women at home at the ferry-house. I was faint
and cold, and went to sit by the fire, but, though very much needing
refreshment, I had not heart to eat anything there--the house was so
dirty, and there were so many wretchedly dirty women and children; yet
perhaps I might have got over the dirt, though I believe there are few
ladies who would not have been turned sick by it, if there had not been a
most disgusting combination of laziness and coarseness in the
countenances and manners of the women, though two of them were very
handsome. It was a small hut, and four women were living in it: one, the
mother of the children and mistress of the house; the others I supposed
to be lodgers, or perhaps servants; but there was no work amongst them.
They had just taken from the fire a great pan full of potatoes, which
they mixed up with milk, all helping themselves out of the same vessel,
and the little children put in their dirty hands to dig out of the mess
at their pleasure. I thought to myself, How light the labour of such a
house as this! Little sweeping, no washing of floors, and as to scouring
the table, I believe it was a thing never thought of.
After a long time the ferryman came home; but we had to wait yet another
hour for the tide. In the meanwhile our horse took fright in consequence
of his terror at the last ferry, ran away with the car, and dashed out
umbrellas, greatcoats, etc.; but luckily he was stopped before any
serious mischief was done. We had determined, whatever it cost, not to
trust ourselves with him again in the boat; but sending him round the
lake seemed almost out of the question, there being no road, and probably
much difficulty in going round with a horse; so after some deliberation
with the ferryman it was agreed that he should swim over. The usual
place of ferrying was very broad, but he was led to the point of a
peninsula at a little distance. It being an unusual affair,--indeed, the
people of the house said that he was the first horse that had ever swum
over,--we had several men on board, and the mistress of the house offered
herself as an assistant: we supposed for the sake of a share in
eighteen-pennyworth of whisky which her husband called for without
ceremony, and of which she and the young lasses, who had helped to push
the boat into the water, partook as freely as the men. At first I feared
for the horse: he was frightened, and strove to push himself under the
boat; but I was soon tolerably easy, for he went on regularly and well,
and after from six to ten minutes swimming landed in safety on the other
side. Poor creature! he stretched out his nostrils and stared wildly
while the man was trotting him about to warm him, and when he put him
into the car he was afraid of the sound of the wheels. For some time our
road was up a glen, the banks chiefly covered with coppice woods, an
unpeopled, but, though without grandeur, not a dreary tract.
Came to a moor and descended into a broad vale, which opened to Loch
Linnhe, an arm of the sea, the prospect being shut in by high mountains,
on which the sun was shining among mists and resting clouds. A village
and chapel stood on the opposite hill; the hills sloped prettily down to
the bed of the vale, a large level area--the grounds in general
cultivated, but not rich. We went perhaps half a mile down the vale,
when our road struck right across it towards the village on the
hill-side. We overtook a tall, well-looking man, seemingly about thirty
years of age, driving a cart, of whom we inquired concerning the road,
and the distance to Portnacroish, our baiting-place. We made further
inquiries respecting our future journey, which he answered in an
intelligent manner, being perfectly acquainted with the geography of
Scotland. He told us that the village which we saw before us and the
whole tract of country was called Appin. William said that it was a
pretty wild place, to which the man replied, 'Sir, it is a very bonny
place if you did but see it on a fine day,' mistaking William's praise
for a half-censure; I must say, however, that we hardly ever saw a
thoroughly pleasing place in Scotland, which had not something of
wildness in its aspect of one sort or other. It came from many causes
here: the sea, or sea-loch, of which we only saw as it were a glimpse
crossing the vale at the foot of it, the high mountains on the opposite
shore, the unenclosed hills on each side of the vale, with black cattle
feeding on them, the simplicity of the scattered huts, the
half-sheltered, half-exposed situation of the village, the imperfect
culture of the fields, the distance from any city or large town, and the
very names of Morven and Appin, particularly at such a time, when old
Ossian's old friends, sunbeams and mists, as like ghosts as any in the
mid-afternoon could be, were keeping company with them. William did all
he could to efface the unpleasant impression he had made on the
Highlander, and not without success, for he was kind and communicative
when we walked up the hill towards the village. He had been a great
traveller, in Ireland and elsewhere; but I believe that he had visited no
place so beautiful to his eyes as his native home, the strath of Appin
under the heathy hills.
We arrived at Portnacroish soon after parting from this man. It is a
small village--a few huts and an indifferent inn by the side of the loch.
Ordered a fowl for dinner, had a fire lighted, and went a few steps from
the door up the road, and turning aside into a field stood at the top of
a low eminence, from which, looking down the loch to the sea through a
long vista of hills and mountains, we beheld one of the most delightful
prospects that, even when we dream of fairer worlds than this, it is
possible for us to conceive in our hearts. A covering of clouds rested
on the long range of the hills of Morven, mists floated very near to the
water on their sides, and were slowly shifting about: yet the sky was
clear, and the sea, from the reflection of the sky, of an ethereal or
sapphire blue, which was intermingled in many places, and mostly by
gentle gradations, with beds of bright dazzling sunshine; green islands
lay on the calm water, islands far greener, for so it seemed, than the
grass of other places; and from their excessive beauty, their unearthly
softness, and the great distance of many of them, they made us think of
the islands of the blessed in the Vision of Mirza--a resemblance more
striking from the long tract of mist which rested on the top of the
steeps of Morven. The view was endless, and though not so wide, had
something of the intricacy of the islands and water of Loch Lomond as we
saw them from Inch-ta-vanach; and yet how different! At Loch Lomond we
could never forget that it was an inland lake of fresh water, nor here
that it was the sea itself, though among multitudes of hills.
Immediately below us, on an island a few yards from the shore, stood an
old keep or fortress; {160} the vale of Appin opened to the water-side,
with cultivated fields and cottages. If there were trees near the shore
they contributed little to the delightful effect of the scene: it was the
immeasurable water, the lofty mist-covered steeps of Morven to the right,
the emerald islands without a bush or tree, the celestial colour and
brightness of the calm sea, and the innumerable creeks and bays, the
communion of land and water as far as the eye could travel. My
description must needs be languid; for the sight itself was too fair to
be remembered. We sate a long time upon the hill, and pursued our
journey at about four o'clock. Had an indifferent dinner, but the cheese
was so excellent that William wished to buy the remainder; but the woman
would not consent to sell it, and forced us to accept a large portion of
it.
We had to travel up the loch, leaving behind us the beautiful scene which
we had viewed with such delight before dinner. Often, while we were
climbing the hill, did we stop to look back, and when we had gone twenty
or thirty yards beyond the point where we had the last view of it, we
left the car to the care of some children who were coming from school,
and went to take another farewell, always in the hope of bearing away a
more substantial remembrance. Travelled for some miles along a road
which was so smooth it was more like a gravel walk in a gentleman's
grounds than a public highway. Probably the country is indebted for this
excellent road to Lord Tweeddale, {161} now a prisoner in France. His
house stands upon an eminence within a mile of Portnacroish, commanding
the same prospect which I have spoken of, except that it must lose
something in not having the old fortress at the foot of it--indeed, it is
not to be seen at all from the house or grounds.
We travelled under steep hills, stony or smooth, with coppice-woods and
patches of cultivated land, and houses here and there; and at every
hundred yards, I may almost venture to say, a streamlet, narrow as a
ribbon, came tumbling down, and, crossing our road, fell into the lake
below. On the opposite shore, the hills--namely, the continuation of the
hills of Morven--were stern and severe, rising like upright walls from
the water's edge, and in colour more resembling rocks than hills, as they
appeared to us. We did not see any house, or any place where it was
likely a house could stand, for many miles; but as the loch was broad we
could not perhaps distinguish the objects thoroughly. A little after
sunset our road led us from the vale of the loch. We came to a small
river, a bridge, a mill, and some cottages at the foot of a hill, and
close to the loch.
Did not cross the bridge, but went up the brook, having it on our left,
and soon found ourselves in a retired valley, scattered over with many
grey huts, and surrounded on every side by green hills. The hay grounds
in the middle of the vale were unenclosed, which was enough to keep alive
the Scottish wildness, here blended with exceeding beauty; for there were
trees growing irregularly or in clumps all through the valley, rocks or
stones here and there, which, with the people at work, hay-cocks
sprinkled over the fields, made the vale look full and populous. It was
a sweet time of the evening: the moon was up; but there was yet so much
of day that her light was not perceived. Our road was through open
fields; the people suspended their work as we passed along, and leaning
on their pitchforks or rakes, with their arms at their sides, or hanging
down, some in one way, some in another, and no two alike, they formed
most beautiful groups, the outlines of their figures being much more
distinct than by day, and all that might have been harsh or unlovely
softened down. The dogs were, as usual, attendant on their masters, and,
watching after us, they barked aloud; yet even their barking hardly
disturbed the quiet of the place.
I cannot say how long this vale was; it made the larger half of a circle,
or a curve deeper than that of half a circle, before it opened again upon
the loch. It was less thoroughly cultivated and woody after the last
turning--the hills steep and lofty. We met a very tall stout man, a fine
figure, in a Highland bonnet, with a little girl, driving home their cow:
he accosted us, saying that we were late travellers, and that we had yet
four miles to go before we should reach Ballachulish--a long way,
uncertain as we were respecting our accommodations. He told us that the
vale was called the Strath of Duror, and when we said it was a pretty
place, he answered, Indeed it was, and that they lived very comfortably
there, for they had a good master, Lord Tweeddale, whose imprisonment he
lamented, speaking earnestly of his excellent qualities. At the end of
the vale we came close upon a large bay of the loch, formed by a rocky
hill, a continuation of the ridge of high hills on the left side of the
strath, making a very grand promontory, under which was a hamlet, a
cluster of huts, at the water's edge, with their little fleet of fishing
boats at anchor, and behind, among the rocks, a hundred slips of corn,
slips and patches, often no bigger than a garden such as a child, eight
years old, would make for sport: it might have been the work of a small
colony from China. There was something touching to the heart in this
appearance of scrupulous industry, and excessive labour of the soil, in a
country where hills and mountains, and even valleys, are left to the care
of nature and the pleasure of the cattle that feed among them. It was,
indeed, a very interesting place, the more so being in perfect contrast
with the few houses at the entrance of the strath--a sea hamlet, without
trees, under a naked stony mountain, yet perfectly sheltered, standing in
the middle of a large bay which half the winds that travel over the lake
can never visit. The other, a little bowery spot, with its river,
bridge, and mill, might have been a hundred miles from the sea-side.
The moon was now shining, and though it reminded us how far the evening
was advanced, we stopped for many minutes before we could resolve to go
on; we saw nothing stirring, neither men, women, nor cattle; but the
linen was still bleaching by the stony rivulet, which ran near the houses
in water-breaks and tiny cataracts. For the first half mile after we had
left this scene there was no thing remarkable; and afterwards we could
only see the hills, the sky, the moon, and moonlight water. When we came
within, it might be, half a mile of Ballachulish, the place where we were
to lodge, the loch narrowed very much, the hills still continuing high.
I speak inaccurately, for it split into two divisions, the one along
which we went being called Loch Leven.
The road grew very bad, and we had an anxious journey till we saw a light
before us, which with great joy we assured ourselves was from the inn;
but what was our distress when, on going a few steps further, we came to
a bridge half broken down, with bushes laid across to prevent travellers
from going over. After some perplexity we determined that I should walk
on to the house before us--for we could see that the bridge was safe for
foot-passengers--and ask for assistance. By great good luck, at this
very moment four or five men came along the road towards us and offered
to help William in driving the car through the water, which was not very
deep at that time, though, only a few days before, the damage had been
done to the bridge by a flood.