our attention almost as much as a Chinese or a Turk would do passing
through the vale of Grasmere. It was a cottage, I believe, little
differing in size and shape from all the rest; but it was like a visitor,
a stranger come into the Highlands, or a model set up of what may be seen
in other countries. The walls were neatly plastered or roughcast, the
windows of clean bright glass, and the door was painted--before it a
flower-garden, fenced with a curiously-clipped hedge, and against the
wall was placed the sign of a spinning-wheel. We could not pass this
humble dwelling, so distinguished by an appearance of comfort and
neatness, without some conjectures respecting the character and manner of
life of the person inhabiting it. Leisure he must have had; and we
pleased ourselves with thinking that some self-taught mind might there
have been nourished by knowledge gathered from books, and the simple
duties and pleasures of rural life.
At Logierait, the village where we dined, the vale widens again, and the
Tummel joins the Tay and loses its name; but the Tay falls into the
channel of the Tummel, continuing its course in the same direction,
almost at right angles to the former course of the Tay. We were sorry to
find that we had to cross the Tummel by a ferry, and resolved not to
venture in the same boat with the horse. Dined at a little public-house,
kept by a young widow, very talkative and laboriously civil. She took me
out to the back-door, and said she would show me a place which had once
been very grand, and, opening a door in a high wall, I entered a ruinous
court-yard, in which was a large old mansion, the walls entire and very
strong, but the roof broken in. The woman said it had been a palace
{196} of one of the kings of Scotland. It was a striking and even an
affecting object, coming upon it, as I did, unawares,--a royal residence
shut up and hidden, while yet in its strength, by mean cottages; there
was no appearance of violence, but decay from desertion, and I should
think that it may remain many years without undergoing further visible
change. The woman and her daughter accompanied us to the ferry and
crossed the water with us; the woman said, but with not much appearance
of honest heart-feeling, that she could not be easy to let us go without
being there to know how we sped, so I invited the little girl to
accompany her, that she might have a ride in the car. The men were
cautious, and the horse got over with less alarm than we could have
expected. Our way was now up the vale, along the banks of the Tummel, an
impetuous river; the mountains higher than near the Tay, and the vale
more wild, and the different reaches more interesting.
When we approached near to Fascally, near the junction of the Garry with
the Tummel, the twilight was far advanced, and our horse not being
perfectly recovered, we were fearful of taking him on to
Blair-Athole--five miles further; besides, the Pass of Killicrankie was
within half a mile, and we were unwilling to go through a place so
celebrated in the dark; therefore, being joined by a traveller, we
inquired if there was any public-house near; he said there was; and that
though the accommodations were not good, we might do well enough for one
night, the host and his wife being very honest people. It proved to be
rather better than a common cottage of the country; we seated ourselves
by the fire, William called for a glass of whisky, and asked if they
could give us beds. The woman positively refused to lodge us, though we
had every reason to believe that she had at least one bed for me; we
entreated again and again in behalf of the poor horse, but all in vain;
she urged, though in an uncivil way, that she had been sitting up the
whole of one or two nights before on account of a fair, and that now she
wanted to go to bed and sleep; so we were obliged to remount our car in
the dark, and with a tired horse we moved on, and went through the Pass
of Killicrankie, hearing only the roaring of the river, and seeing a
black chasm with jagged-topped black hills towering above. Afterwards
the moon rose, and we should not have had an unpleasant ride if our horse
had been in better plight, and we had not been annoyed, as we were almost
at every twenty yards, by people coming from a fair held that day near
Blair--no pleasant prognostic of what might be our accommodation at the
inn, where we arrived between ten and eleven o'clock, and found the house
in an uproar; but we were civilly treated, and were glad, after eating a
morsel of cold beef, to retire to rest, and I fell asleep in spite of the
noisy drunkards below stairs, who had outstayed the fair.
* * * * *
_Wednesday_, _September_ 7_th_.--Rose early, and went before breakfast to
the Duke of Athol's gardens and pleasure-grounds, where we completely
tired ourselves with a three-hours' walk. Having been directed to see
all the waterfalls, we submitted ourselves to the gardener, who dragged
us from place to place, calling our attention to, it might be,
half-a-dozen--I cannot say how many--dripping streams, very pretty in
themselves, if we had had the pleasure of discovering them; but they were
generally robbed of their grace by the obtrusive ornaments which were
first seen. The whole neighbourhood, a great country, seems to belong to
the Duke of Athol. In his domain are hills and mountains, glens and
spacious plains, rivers and innumerable torrents; but near Blair are no
old woods, and the plantations, except those at a little distance from
the house, appear inconsiderable, being lost to the eye in so extensive a
circuit.
The castle stands on low ground, and far from the Garry, commanding a
prospect all round of distant mountains, a bare and cold scene, and, from
the irregularity and width of it, not so grand as one should expect,
knowing the great height of some of the mountains. Within the Duke's
park are three glens, the glen of the river Tilt and two others, which,
if they had been planted more judiciously, would have been very sweet
retirements; but they are choked up, the whole hollow of the glens--I do
not speak of the Tilt, for that is rich in natural wood--being closely
planted with trees, and those chiefly firs; but many of the old fir-trees
are, as single trees, very fine. On each side of the glen is an ell-wide
gravel walk, which the gardener told us was swept once a week. It is
conducted at the top of the banks, on each side, at nearly equal height,
and equal distance from the stream; they lead you up one of these paths,
and down the other--very wearisome, as you will believe--mile after mile!
We went into the garden, where there was plenty of fruit--gooseberries,
hanging as thick as possible upon the trees, ready to drop off; I thought
the gardener might have invited us to refresh ourselves with some of his
fruit after our long fatigue. One part of the garden was decorated with
statues, 'images,' as poor Mr. Gill used to call those at Racedown,
dressed in gay-painted clothes; and in a retired corner of the grounds,
under some tall trees, appeared the figure of a favourite old gamekeeper
of one of the former Dukes, in the attitude of pointing his gun at the
game--'reported to be a striking likeness,' said the gardener. Looking
at some of the tall larches, with long hairy twigs, very beautiful trees,
he told us that they were among the first which had ever been planted in
Scotland, that a Duke of Athol had brought a single larch from London in
a pot, in his coach, from which had sprung the whole family that had
overspread Scotland. This, probably, might not be accurate, for others
might afterwards have come, or seed from other trees. He told us many
anecdotes of the present Duke, which I wish I could perfectly remember.
He is an indefatigable sportsman, hunts the wild deer on foot, attended
by twelve Highlanders in the Highland dress, which he himself formerly
used to wear; he will go out at four o'clock in the morning, and not
return till night. His fine family, 'Athol's honest men, and Athol's
bonny lasses,' to whom Burns, in his bumpers, drank health and long life,
are dwindled away: of nine, I believe only four are left: the mother of
them is dead in a consumption, and the Duke married again. We rested
upon the heather seat which Burns was so loth to quit that moonlight
evening when he first went to Blair Castle, and had a pleasure in
thinking that he had been under the same shelter, and viewed the little
waterfall opposite with some of the happy and pure feelings of his better
mind. The castle has been modernized, which has spoiled its appearance.
It is a large irregular pile, not handsome, but I think may have been
picturesque, and even noble, before it was docked of its battlements and
whitewashed.
The most interesting object we saw at Blair was the chapel, shaded by
trees, in which the body of the impetuous Dundee lies buried. This quiet
spot is seen from the windows of the inn, whence you look, at the same
time, upon a high wall and a part of the town--a contrast which, I know
not why, made the chapel and its grove appear more peaceful, as if kept
so for some sacred purpose. We had a very nice breakfast, which we
sauntered over after our weary walk.
Being come to the most northerly point of our destined course, we took
out the map, loth to turn our backs upon the Highlands, and, looking
about for something which we might yet see, we fixed our eyes upon two or
three spots not far distant, and sent for the landlord to consult with
him. One of them was Loch Rannoch, a fresh-water lake, which he told us
was bordered by a natural pine forest, that its banks were populous, and
that the place being very remote, we might there see much of the
simplicity of the Highlander's life. The landlord said that we must take
a guide for the first nine or ten miles; but afterwards the road was
plain before us, and very good, so at about ten o'clock we departed,
having engaged a man to go with us. The Falls of Bruar, which we wished
to visit for the sake of Burns, are about three miles from Blair, and our
road was in the same direction for two miles.
After having gone for some time under a bare hill, we were told to leave
the car at some cottages, and pass through a little gate near a brook
which crossed the road. We walked upwards at least three quarters of a
mile in the hot sun, with the stream on our right, both sides of which to
a considerable height were planted with firs and larches
intermingled--children of poor Burns's song; for his sake we wished that
they had been the natural trees of Scotland, birches, ashes,
mountain-ashes, etc.; however, sixty or seventy years hence they will be
no unworthy monument to his memory. At present, nothing can be uglier
than the whole chasm of the hill-side with its formal walks. I do not
mean to condemn them, for, for aught I know, they are as well managed as
they could be; but it is not easy to see the use of a pleasure-path
leading to nothing, up a steep and naked hill in the midst of an unlovely
tract of country, though by the side of a tumbling stream of clear water.
It does not surely deserve the name of a pleasure-path. It is three
miles from the Duke of Athol's house, and I do not believe that one
person living within five miles of the place would wish to go twice to
it. The falls are high, the rocks and stones fretted and gnawed by the
water. I do not wonder at the pleasure which Burns received from this
stream; I believe we should have been much pleased if we had come upon it
as he did. At the bottom of the hill we took up our car, and, turning
back, joined the man who was to be our guide.
Crossed the Garry, and went along a moor without any road but straggling
cart-tracks. Soon began to ascend a high hill, and the ground grew so
rough--road there was none--that we were obliged to walk most of the way.
Ascended to a considerable height, and commanded an extensive prospect
bounded by lofty mountains, and having crossed the top of the fell we
parted with our guide, being in sight of the vale into which we were to
descend, and to pursue upwards till we should come to Loch Rannoch, a
lake, as described to us, bedded in a forest of Scotch pines.
When left to ourselves we sate down on the hillside, and looked with
delight into the deep vale below, which was exceedingly green, not
regularly fenced or cultivated, but the level area scattered over with
bushes and trees, and through that level ground glided a glassy river,
not in serpentine windings, but in direct turnings backwards and
forwards, and then flowed into the head of the Lake of Tummel; but I will
copy a rough sketch which I made while we sate upon the hill, which,
imperfect as it is, will give a better idea of the course of the
river--which I must add is more curious than beautiful--than my
description. The ground must be often overflowed in winter, for the
water seemed to touch the very edge of its banks. At this time the scene
was soft and cheerful, such as invited us downwards, and made us proud of
our adventure.
Coming near to a cluster of huts, we turned thither, a few steps out of
our way, to inquire about the road; these huts were on the hill, placed
side by side, in a figure between a square and a circle, as if for the
sake of mutual shelter, like haystacks in a farmyard--no trees near them.
We called at one of the doors, and three hale, stout men came out, who
could speak very little English, and stared at us with an almost savage
look of wonder. One of them took much pains to set us forward, and went
a considerable way down the hill till we came in sight of the cart road,
which we were to follow; but we had not gone far before we were
disheartened. It was with the greatest difficulty William could lead the
horse and car over the rough stones, and to sit in it was impossible; the
road grew worse and worse, therefore we resolved to turn back, having no
reason to expect anything better, for we had been told that after we
should leave the untracked ground all would be fair before us. We knew
ourselves where we stood to be about eight miles distant from the point
where the river Tummel, after having left the lake, joins the Garry at
Fascally near the Pass of Killicrankie, therefore we resolved to make our
way thither, and endeavour to procure a lodging at the same public-house
where it had been refused to us the night before. The road was likely to
be very bad; but, knowing the distance, we thought it more prudent than
to venture farther with nothing before us but uncertainty. We were
forced to unyoke the horse, and turn the car ourselves, owing to the
steep banks on either side of the road, and after much trouble we got him
in again, and set our faces down the vale towards Loch Tummel, William
leading the car and I walking by his side.
For the first two or three miles we looked down upon the lake, our road
being along the side of the hill directly above it. On the opposite side
another range of hills rose up in the same manner,--farm-houses thinly
scattered among the copses near the water, and cultivated ground in
patches. The lake does not wind, nor are the shores much varied by
bays,--the mountains not commanding; but the whole a pleasing scene. Our
road took us out of sight of the water, and we were obliged to procure a
guide across a high moor, where it was impossible that the horse should
drag us at all, the ground being exceedingly rough and untracked: of
course fatiguing for foot-travellers, and on foot we must travel. After
some time, the river Tummel again served us for a guide, when it had left
the lake. It was no longer a gentle stream, a mirror to the sky, but we
could hear it roaring at a considerable distance between steep banks of
rock and wood. We had to cross the Garry by a bridge, a little above the
junction of the two rivers; and were now not far from the public-house,
to our great joy, for we were very weary with our laborious walk. I do
not think that I had walked less than sixteen miles, and William much
more, to which add the fatigue of leading the horse, and the rough roads,
and you will not wonder that we longed for rest. We stopped at the door
of the house, and William entered as before, and again the woman refused
to lodge us, in a most inhuman manner, giving no other reason than that
she would not do it. We pleaded for the poor horse, entreated, soothed,
and flattered, but all in vain, though the night was cloudy and dark. We
begged to sit by the fire till morning, and to this she would not
consent; indeed, if it had not been for the sake of the horse, I would
rather have lain in a barn than on the best of feather-beds in the house
of such a cruel woman.
We were now, after our long day's journey, five miles from the inn at
Blair, whither we, at first, thought of returning; but finally resolved
to go to a public-house which we had seen in a village we passed through,
about a mile above the ferry over the Tummel, having come from that point
to Blair, for the sake of the Pass of Killicrankie and Blair itself, and
had now the same road to measure back again. We were obliged to leave
the Pass of Killicrankie unseen; but this disturbed us little at a time
when we had seven miles to travel in the dark, with a poor beast almost
sinking with fatigue, for he had not rested once all day. We went on
spiritless, and at a dreary pace. Passed by one house which we were half
inclined to go up to and ask for a night's lodging; and soon after, being
greeted by a gentle voice from a poor woman, whom, till she spoke, though
we were close to her, we had not seen, we stopped, and asked if she could
tell us where we might stay all night, and put up our horse. She
mentioned the public-house left behind, and we told our tale, and asked
her if she had no house to which she could take us. 'Yes, to be sure she
had a house, but it was only a small cottage;' and she had no place for
the horse, and how we could lodge in her house she could not tell; but we
should be welcome to whatever she had, so we turned the car, and she
walked by the side of it, talking to us in a tone of human kindness which
made us friends at once.
I remember thinking to myself, as I have often done in a stage-coach,
though never with half the reason to prejudge favourably, What sort of
countenance and figure shall we see in this woman when we come into the
light? And indeed it was an interesting moment when, after we had
entered her house, she blew the embers on the hearth, and lighted a
candle to assist us in taking the luggage out of the car. Her husband
presently arrived, and he and William took the horse to the public-house.
The poor woman hung the kettle over the fire. We had tea and sugar of
our own, and she set before us barley cakes, and milk which she had just
brought in; I recollect she said she 'had been west to fetch it.' The
Highlanders always direct you by east and west, north and south--very
confusing to strangers. She told us that it was her business to 'keep
the gate' for Mr. ---, who lived at --- just below,--that is, to receive
messages, take in letters, etc. Her cottage stood by the side of the
road leading to his house, within the gate, having, as we saw in the
morning, a dressed-up porter's lodge outside; but within was nothing but
the naked walls, unplastered, and floors of mud, as in the common huts.
She said that they lived rent-free in return for their services; but
spoke of her place and Mr. --- with little respect, hinting that he was
very proud; and indeed her appearance, and subdued manners, and that soft
voice which had prepossessed us so much in her favour, seemed to belong
to an injured and oppressed being. We talked a great deal with her, and
gathered some interesting facts from her conversation, which I wish I had
written down while they were fresh in my memory. They had only one
child, yet seemed to be very poor, not discontented but languid, and
willing to suffer rather than rouse to any effort. Though it was plain
she despised and hated her master, and had no wish to conceal it, she
hardly appeared to think it worth while to speak ill of him. We were
obliged to sit up very late while our kind hostess was preparing our
beds. William lay upon the floor on some hay, without sheets; my bed was
of chaff; I had plenty of covering, and a pair of very nice strong clean
sheets,--she said with some pride that she had good linen. I believe the
sheets had been of her own spinning, perhaps when she was first married,
or before, and she probably will keep them to the end of her life of
poverty.
* * * * *
_Thursday_, _September_ 8_th_.--Before breakfast we walked to the Pass of
Killicrankie. A very fine scene; the river Garry forcing its way down a
deep chasm between rocks, at the foot of high rugged hills covered with
wood, to a great height. The Pass did not, however, impress us with awe,
or a sensation of difficulty or danger, according to our expectations;
but, the road being at a considerable height on the side of the hill, we
at first only looked into the dell or chasm. It is much grander seen
from below, near the river's bed. Everybody knows that this Pass is
famous in military history. When we were travelling in Scotland an
invasion was hourly looked for, and one could not but think with some
regret of the times when from the now depopulated Highlands forty or
fifty thousand men might have been poured down for the defence of the
country, under such leaders as the Marquis of Montrose or the brave man
who had so distinguished himself upon the ground where we were standing.
I will transcribe a sonnet suggested to William by this place, and
written in October 1803:--
Six thousand Veterans practised in War's game,
Tried men, at Killicrankie were array'd
Against an equal host that wore the Plaid,
Shepherds and herdsmen. Like a whirlwind came
The Highlanders; the slaughter spread like flame,
And Garry, thundering down his mountain road,
Was stopp'd, and could not breathe beneath the load
Of the dead bodies. 'Twas a day of shame
For them whom precept and the pedantry
Of cold mechanic battle do enslave.
Oh! for a single hour of that Dundee
Who on that day the word of onset gave:
Like conquest might the men of England see,
And her Foes find a like inglorious grave.
We turned back again, and going down the hill below the Pass, crossed the
same bridge we had come over the night before, and walked through Lady
Perth's grounds by the side of the Garry till we came to the Tummel, and
then walked up to the cascade of the Tummel. The fall is inconsiderable,
scarcely more than an ordinary 'wear;' but it makes a loud roaring over
large stones, and the whole scene is grand--hills, mountains, woods, and
rocks. --- is a very pretty place, all but the house. Stoddart's print
gives no notion of it. The house stands upon a small plain at the
junction of the two rivers, a close deep spot, surrounded by high hills
and woods. After we had breakfasted William fetched the car, and, while
we were conveying the luggage to the outside of the gate, where it stood,
Mr. ---, _mal apropos_, came very near to the door, called the woman out,
and railed at her in the most abusive manner for 'harbouring' people in
that way. She soon slipped from him, and came back to us: I wished that
William should go and speak to her master, for I was afraid that he might
turn the poor woman away; but she would not suffer it, for she did not
care whether they stayed or not. In the meantime, Mr. --- continued
scolding her husband; indeed, he appeared to be not only proud, but very
ignorant, insolent, and low-bred. The woman told us that she had
sometimes lodged poor travellers who were passing along the road, and
permitted others to cook their victuals in her house, for which Mr. ---
had reprimanded her before; but, as she said, she did not value her
place, and it was no matter. In sounding forth the dispraise of Mr. ---,
I ought not to omit mentioning that the poor woman had great delight in
talking of the excellent qualities of his mother, with whom she had been
a servant, and lived many years. After having interchanged good wishes
we parted with our charitable hostess, who, telling us her name,
entreated us, if ever we came that way again, to inquire for her.
We travelled down the Tummel till it is lost in the Tay, and then, in the
same direction, continued our course along the vale of Tay, which is very
wide for a considerable way, but gradually narrows, and the river, always
a fine stream, assumes more dignity and importance. Two or three miles
before we reached Dunkeld, we observed whole hill-sides, the property of
the Duke of Athol, planted with fir-trees till they are lost among the
rocks near the tops of the hills. In forty or fifty years these
plantations will be very fine, being carried from hill to hill, and not
bounded by a visible artificial fence.