A Companion and Useful Guide to the Beauties of Scotland/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
On the 30th day of July, 1796, with the utmost regret I left Mieklour, loaded with kindness in every shape; and not an article of convenience or comfort for the long journey before me was forgotten by the friendly lady of the house, and her amiable daughters. My chaise was crammed with provisions, wine, and other things for my use; and, what was far more grateful to my heart, their warm affection and good wishes were with me; so that when I departed from their hospitable door, I felt what I cannot express.
At Mieklour I was on the north side of the Tay, which from Dunkeld to the turn at Kinclaven ruin, near Mieklour, flows from the west; and from Dunkeld it turns to the north, till the Tumel falls into it; thence as far as Taymouth its course is from the west. As from Mieklour to Dunkeld I was on the north side of the Tay, I did not go any part of the new road from Perth to Dunkeld, but passed by Delvin, imbowered in wood, on its flat peninsula. I saw also, on the opposite side of the Tay, Murthly's ancient walls, and its rich meadows to the edge of the river, and the rising hill on which Birnam Wood once grew. As I advanced to Stenton a piece of beautiful crag, covered with wood, pleased me much, and the situation of Dungarthill is picturesque. But the view from the high ground before the descent into Dunkeld is fine beyond description: the cathedral, the town, and the Duke of Atholl's house, with prodigious surrounding woods; the Tay issuing from avenues of immense trees, from which sweep, to the right, beautiful sloping grass fields and walks, backed by the noble rough sides of craggy braes, covered with wood, except now and then where huge masses of rock bid defiance to the planter's labour, and rear their bare heads majestically. The left side of the landscape is occupied by the woods at Inver, the dashing Brand, and the charming scenes at the Hermitage. As the beauties of Dunkeld have been so often immortalized by pens far abler than mine, I shall say little of them: at the same time I cannot omit expressing the pleasure I experienced from every thing I there met with. Every step from the house to the Hermitage is enchanting. After crossing the Tay ferry, where the banks of that smooth river are charming, winding, and finely wooded, I entered a shrubbery that soon led to the river Brand, dashing through a rough bed of large stones. Opposite the shrubbery are high rocks, covered with wood, and picturesque to a great degree. As I advanced I came to lofty projecting rocks on each side of the river, striving, as it were, to kiss each other: they are united by a simple bridge of one arch, through which, deep below, by a very confined rocky channel, the water forces itself; scarcely recovered from its foaming rage at the fall just above, which is partially seen through the high arch. On entering the Hermitage I was astonished. The contrast between the room, the beautiful cataract, and its scenery, is beyond description striking!—The mirrors in the room, so far from being absurd (as some Tourists say), magnify and multiply every object they reflect, and thereby increase the delight. A large bow-window, down to the floor of the room, faces the fall, and indeed hangs over part of it; so that the reeking spray dashes in with violence, if the sashes be open. The noise of the cascade is wonderful, and the view of the river above it is charming; rendered so by the great variety of small falls, wood, and projecting rocks.
I much wished to have continued my walk by the Brand side till I came to the Rumbling Brig; and such a walk would be delightful. If the Duke of Atholl should extend his walks beyond their present limits, and carry them on by the river side, up to that romantic part of it over which the Rumbling Brig is thrown, it would be a wonderful improvement: but as that is not yet the case, I went in the carriage to the brig; which should be seen, for it cannot be described with justice, nor in language to be understood.
The road from Dunkeld to Taymouth, through Aberfeldie, is on the opposite side of the river to that leading to Blair; and it is also bounded by mountains, and finely wooded. As I passed them on the opposite bank of Tay, I admired the situation of Dalguise and Kinnaird; the latter built at the base of tremendous shivering crags, under which the road to Aberfeldie runs, to the great dismay of timorous travellers who are exposed to their threatening frown.
The view at the junction of the Tumel river with the Tay is very fine; in short, the whole of the drive, from Dunkeld to Blair Atholl, is beyond description; and it may be termed one of the grandest, as well as the most beautiful of all the passes through the Grampion mountains. In some places of this delightful drive the opening is very narrow, particularly north of the Moulin Hows. The Tumel river is far more violent than the Tay, which smoothly glides the chief part of its long course. The Tumel begins to roar very soon after its egress from Loch Rannoch, falling finely and furiously between the neighbouring crags of Schihallion, and then running towards Glen Tumel, and a lake of that name; it afterwards pursues its course, and again falls at Fascalie: these two falls of Tumel are not so high as many others in Scotland; but the body of water at them is far greater; for this river comes from a district full of mountains, from whose sides flow never ceasing torrents.
From the ferry at Logierait, towards Blair, the passage narrows, and nothing is to be seen but the road, the craggy mountains on each side, covered with wood, and the fierce Tumel below, growling through its rough bed, concealed by rocks, and trees of mountain ash, birch, alder, oak, and pine, growing among them.
Butter, Esq. is the happy man who now owns Fascalie; and to the civility of his family I am indebted for a complete sight of its beauties. The house lies far below the road, just at the south entrance of the pass of Killycrankie, in a sort of triangular flat space of meadow land, beautifully wooded by very fine large trees which ornament the space and fields adjoining, and also cover the banks of the rivers which there unite; and plantations climb up every crag, which on all sides surround Fascalie. On the eastern side of the three, at Fascalie, is the road to Blair, with mountains on the right to the sky. At the western angle issues the Tumel from its furious fall, and meets the river Garrie, which rolls precipitately (and in times of rain), foaming and black, from its dark bed through the pass of Killycrankie; but just before its union it throws off all its angry forms and gloomy aspect, and softly mixes with its boisterous Tumel, dressed and ornamented by the genuine hand of nature; thus united, the stream gently winds round the southern side of Fascalie, and then is lost to sight among thick woods and craggy mountains.
The road through the pass of Killycrankie was made by the military; I believe in Wade's time. The old road was tremendous; but now that it is taken higher up the mountain, it has lost all its horrors, and retains its beauties, with additions, from a very great increase of plantations by Mr. Butter. About half a mile above Fascalie is a bridge of one arch, over the deep bed of the Garrie, and a bridle-road to Rannoch, through Glen Tumel. The bridge is rendered picturesque to a great degree by the scenery near it. At the emersion from the pass of Killycrankie, the view opens finely to the plain of Atholl; in the midst of which stands Atholl house, very conspicuous, by being white; and at a farther distance is a sham castle, backed by thick woods, and the craggy mountains of the forest of Atholl. Three miles short of Blair I perceived a very large field to the right, and an upright stone standing therein, like one of the smallest at Stone Henge in Wiltshire; I found it was the tombstone of Lord Dundee, who fell in the battle of Killycrankie by a shot from the house upon the high ground above the field. The action at Killycrankie was the last of any consequence at the Revolution in James the Second's time. A mile and a half further, I came to the foot of the hill on which Lude stands. How to get at the house I could not tell, as it appeared to me that none but winged animals, or scrambling goats, could gain the height of Lude; however, my horses being strong, and the driver willing, I began to climb by the southern ascent, and did effect it; but with great anxiety, and dread of mischief to the poor horses. I have the honour, by marriage, of being related to the owner of Lude, which is one of the prettiest places in Scotland. The house is very old, and it was nearly pulled in pieces by Sir Andrew Agnew's people, who had possession of Blair Castle for Government in 1745.
In front the mansion of Lude overlooks, to the west, Atholl house, and the whole plain towards Loch Garrie: this plain is watered by the river Garrie, joined by the Tilt, which separates the property of the Duke of Atholl from that of Mr. Robertson. To the left Lude looks down upon the fine woods and pass of Killycrankie; and to the south, across a narrow part of the plain, to an extensive range of the Grampions. To the north of Lude lie the high massive mountains of Benygloe, and others. The walks of Lude are lovely beyond description; particularly that by the burn to the York cascade, and on the banks of the Tilt; also to a fall of a burn running into the Tilt, above the York cascade, which I beg leave to name the Fall of Lude; it is in majesty next to the Reeky Lin; in beautiful scenery, superior to it.
The charms of Blair, and its adjacent country, are better known than most places in Scotland; notwithstanding I must particularize Glen Tilt, and Glen Bruar, in which his Grace the Duke of Atholl has lodges. The one in Glen Tilt is situated in the narrow part of the glen, close by the side of the river; to the east of it rises, almost perpendicularly, a part of Benygloe, green as far as the eye can see; on the west, stupendous stony mountains, fragments of which are strewed over the glen, with innumerable springs issuing at every ten yards. About a quarter of a mile above the lodge is a small simple bridge, of one arch, over the Tilt, and a fall of the river under it, very pretty indeed. I was informed, that towards the head of the Glen the scenes become still more romantic, wild, and sublime, with a number of falls of water, particularly one of the Tarf Water running to the Tilt. The head of Glen Tilt is but an inconsiderable distance from the head of the river Dee, which rises in the great mountains that close up the head of Glen Tilt. I was told there would, some time or other, be a very good road from Blair, by Lude, across the hills to Glen Shee and Glen Beg, which lead to the castle town of Bramar.
The drive from Atholl house to the Forest Lodge is beautiful; the Tilt is for ever noisy throughout its rough course; its banks are highly ornamented with trees, and broken precipices, and openings in the mountains, pouring down their ample tribute to the rapid Tilt.
I was regaled at the Forest Lodge with what that district is famous for, namely, Atholl broze, made of whisky, eggs, and honey. To a lover of whisky it is a delicious treat, and much prized by the people of Atholl, having good reason, I suppose, for so doing. One instance of its efficacy I will mention: the daughter of an inhabitant of Atholl, having been placed at one of the first boarding schools in Edinburgh, was seized with a violent fever; her father was sent for, as she was thought in great danger; and upon his arrival, being told his child was at the point of death, and that every thing the physicians could do for her had been done, without effect; he earnestly exclaimed, "but has she had any Atholl broze?" "No." He then had a good dose of it instantly prepared, and making her swallow it, she soon recovered.
I only saw a very small part of Glen Bruar, namely, its fall of water out of the Glen, which is reckoned very fine; and though the sides are very bare, it certainly is so. The great number and variety of smaller falls, extending all the way down from the high fall to the houses in the town of Bruar, are very pretty; and one in particular is extremely curious, the water having perforated the rock, and made itself an arch through which it tumbles in a very picturesque style. I first went on the east-side of the water, in a small carriage, to see the high fall; but the lesser falls are to be seen on the west-side; and a fine scrambling walk it is, over fragments of rocks, stone dykes, (walls,) and ground full of springs; but the beauty of the scene repays the fatigue of following it up to the summit of the high fall. Since I saw the falls of Bruar, the Duke of Atholl has had an arch thrown over the high fall from rock to rock, and the banks planted: these plantations, when grown up, will render these falls completely beautiful.
I got out of the carriage somewhat to the west of the town of Bruar (in the Highlands every thing is a town, if it consists only of a cluster of huts), and walked to the bridge leading to the kirk town of Strowan. The small falls of the Garrie, at that bridge and above it, are very pretty; and there are two below it, fine, with high rocky banks, covered with wood; and they are beautiful to look at on both sides the river. I believe they are salmon leaps, and it is astonishing to what a height that fish will leap, and what an amazing body of water they are able to resist. I saw one attempt to leap up the great fall of the Tumel at Fascalie; but unfortunately it did not succeed, and fell back into the pool. When I was at Fascalie, at the fall there was a great bag, made of net-work, fastened to a roundish hoop of iron, and hung like the pockets at the corners of billiard tables, from a long poll; this bag is usually either fastened horizontally upon some rock, or held by a fisherman just under the fall, to catch the fish, if they do not succeed in their leap. The fishermen, at such great falls as those of the Tumel, are themselves securely fastened to the shore, otherwise they might fall off the rocks on which they sit, and be lost in the torrent; for, it is said, the noise of it has the effect of making them fall fast asleep.
The Duke of Atholl is hereditary ranger of the King's forest of Atholl; by which means his Grace has a prodigious tract of country for his amusement of deer hunting: those animals are in great abundance at Blair; but being extremely shy, give the hunters infinite trouble and fatigue. Whole days are sometimes spent, from the dawn to the setting sun, in shooting one of them; much dexterity too is requisite to accomplish it. The Duke is one of the best shot in Britain; but notwithstanding his Grace is often obliged to be scrambling about the crags for eight or ten hours before he succeeds. The venison of the wild deer is delicious, very fat, and runs to a great size. During the time I had the honour of spending at Blair, I lived upon red deer venison and moor-fowl. The red deer so abound, that they are often seen in Atholl forest in herds of two thousand.
The drive from Blair to Dalnacardoch inn, is close by the river Garrie, amongst wild mountains: but to me, even after the village of Bruar, and the kirk-town of Strowan, there was all the way something delightful about the banks of that river to its source, the lake Garrie; having innumerable little picturesque cascades, mountain torrents, and rocky banks, here and there adorned with birch, alder, mountain ash, and an infinity of bushes and creeping shrubs diversifying the charming scene. The view of Loch Garrie from a simple bridge over a torrent, facing the lake, is beautiful. The rising hill from that bridge leads to the source of the Truim water, and the neat solitary inn of Dalwhinie, close to its edge. A person accustomed only to the scenes in the vicinity of London, or the greatest part of England, would be dismayed at the sight of this lonely habitation, the only one for miles round, where not a tree or a shrub is to be seen; only desolate crags, and a boggy heath of great extent on every side; nothing cheering, but the babbling water running to the Spey river. Dalwhinie pleased me; and though the evening was chill, and a mist coming on, I took my way to the head of Loch Ericht, about three quarters of a mile over the boggy heath. The high bare crags on each side of Loch Ericht sweep precipitately to the loch's edge, with now and then patches of wood creeping up their lofty sides. There is a shooting-box, in a romantic situation, on the west bank of Loch Ericht, belonging to the Lord Advocate Dundas; but there is no getting at it except by a boat. Both Dalwhinie inn, and nearly the upper half of Loch Ericht, are in Invernessshire, in the district of Badenoch. The southern part of Loch Ericht is in Perthshire, and will be mentioned when I enter on the subject of Rannoch.
From Dalwhinie to Pitmain inn (still in Badenoch) the face of the country is much the same, till I drew near the river Spey. On crossing the Truim water from the west to the east side of it, is an extremely pretty simple bridge, and a fall of water through the arch, which is truly picturesque, with a salmon leap; and the banks and surrounding rocks (not very gigantic) sweetly ornamented with birch, alder, small oak, &c. I got out of the chaise to admire this simple sweet scene; and then proceeded towards Spey bridge, till I came within sight of gigantic mountains indeed, particularly those to the left, from amongst which the Spey issues, to receive the tributary water of Truim. I think I never saw such bare, black, tremendous mountains in any part of Scotland, as those near the junction of the Truim water with the Spey.
Spey bridge is a noble arch of grey stone; and the face of the country around it becomes more smiling than the other part of Badenoch I had passed through. After crossing Spey bridge, the road winds round some noble mountains, and soon ascends to the neat inn at Pitmain, from whence is a fine view of a small lake, formed by the Spey river, called Loch Inch: the vale it is in is tolerably well sprinkled with trees, besides a pretty extensive wood, through which the road advances, still catching the banks of the lovely Spey, until it sweeps round a beautiful craggy mountain, and is lost to the traveller for a few miles. I was sorry to lose sight of this charming river; but I was made some amends by the scene around two small lakes, with the noble crags of Alvie, and the mountains to the right, where I lost the Spey. About half a mile further, by a zig-zag amongst crags and wood, the road sweeps beautifully through one of the finest birch woods I ever beheld, down to the very edge of Spey; opening to my view a very lovely scene indeed of the widening vale, rich and well ornamented with wood, and sheltered by mountains not to be described: here I entered Murrayshire. On the opposite side of the river stands Rothamurchus, beautifully situated, bounded by crags, and near the river's side. The crags around Rothamurchus are covered with wood, and the verdant meads are ornamented with fine trees; and the house is within sight of Cairngouram mountains, whose hollow cliffs are filled with never-melting snow. The cap of winter upon the crown of the luxuriant smiling summer below, was a contrast I had never before beheld, and I was delighted with it. Cairngouram produces the finest Scotch pebbles. Aviemore inn was within sight when I came down to the side of the Spey; and my heart jumped at the idea of passing the night in a spot so grateful to my sensations, because nature there shines in its natural garb, and in high beauty: but no sooner had I put my foot within the walls of that horrible house, than my heart sunk; and I was glad to escape from its filth and smoke very early the next morning. The sun, however, was sufficiently high to gild the mountains and the lovely scenes around Rothamurchus; and for many a mile my eyes were feasted by the white patched hollow sides of Cairngouram. It was impossible to breakfast at Aviemore inn; I therefore stopped at a small house, eight miles further on the new road to Dulsie bridge, and I got a comfortable meal in the chaise, having provided tea, sugar, bread and butter, tea-pot, &c. so that I wanted only boiling water and milk, which I got, extremely good, from the cottage. After breakfast I entered upon a wild moor, the road itself admirable; but for twelve miles, nothing but bare hills and blooming heath to be seen, except a small lake at some distance, called Lochindorb, with a castle in it; even this extensive wild pleased me, and gave scope to boundless reflection. The beautiful bloom of the heath, its great variety and fragrance, its novelty, and the tout ensemble of the scene, amused me the whole way till I became in a degree enchanted: when on a sudden, driven down from a space of bare poverty to the bridge of Dulsie, my senses were there lost to every thing but admiration of rocks, wood, and water tumbling furiously round, and over blocks of redish stone of immense size, some of them hanging over, others choking up the arch of the bridge, which rests on projecting masses of rock. The bridge itself is not so well looking as most bridges in Scotland, and is of a very odd structure, occasioned by the situation of the rocks on which it rests. The inn is on a high bank on the north side of the bridge, under an extensive thick wood, mostly of large birch trees, larch, and firs. Very soon after the Findhorn river has forced its way through Dulsie bridge, it is lost to sight by high banks and thick woods, and runs its course to the Murray Firth, into which it empties itself by a large bay near Forres. A short way above the brig of Dulsie the river takes a turn round very high points of rocks, and forms several handsome falls between the turn and the bridge. A beautiful landscape of this place might be made, taken from below the bridge; including that and the rough bed of the foaming river, dashing against the huge blocks of smooth redish tinted rocks, lying heaped one upon another, and every where impeding the stream; also chasms, excavated by the water being violently driven out of its course against the rocky bank; with a vast variety of projecting rocks, bushes, and trees; fern, moss, and large aquatic plants sprouting from every crevice, and clinging to every stone which is seen through the arch of the bridge, and in front of it. On the left side of the bridge, on a very high rocky bank, are tall ash trees, birch, beach, abele trees, and mountain ash; some carelessly spreading over the side of the bridge, branching down to the arch; others from the shelves of the rocks; with huge trunks, and flowing branches rising from their bare fibrous roots, shooting to an incredible distance, from crevice to crevice, in search of nutriment, where the human eye sees no soil: likewise the hazel, the alder, and the crooked maple, with all sorts of shrubs feathering down the rough bank to the water's edge; and to complete the beauty of the bank, a broken cascade tumbles heedless of the havock it incessantly makes of the shrubs and plants over which it dashes. The fore-ground of the landscape might be the right bank, which is broken ground, with some pieces of rock and small shrubs hanging about it.
I was grieved to quit such a charming spot as Dulsie bridge; but I had sixteen miles to travel to Fort George, and the horses had already brought me twenty miles, which, on the whole, would be a great day's work. On leaving the brig of Dulsie, I penetrated the wood behind the inn, and beyond that wood found little that interested me, till I came within sight of the mouth of Cromarty Firth, and the wide expanse of sea to the east. The sun was shining with great lustre upon the lofty rocks on the north side of the entrance into the Firth, and I never saw rocks look finer or more grand than they did. The town of Cromarty was hid from me by the point of land south of it; this town lies at the northeast end of the peninsula, formed by the Murray and Cromarty Firths, which run almost parallel to each other from south-west to north-east. Just within the Cromarty Firth is a ferry from the town of Cromarty, to a corner of Rossshire, and a road from the ferry to Tain.
At about seven miles from Fort George I came to Castle Calder, and by a new made road passed close to its old walls. It is more like a very ancient house than a castle; but it has small round towers at its corners on the uppermost story, which descend no lower, with narrow slips in the walls to admit light and air, and I suppose sufficiently wide to peep at an enemy without. In all very ancient buildings belonging to the chiefs there are very few windows, and those extremely small, with walls immoderately thick. There is one internal wall now at Blair above seven feet thick. As I did not know when I passed Castle Calder that I could see the inside of it, I did not stop there; and by that means lost the opportunity of seeing King Duncan's bed on which he was murdered by Macbeth, in Inverness castle. There is a large thorn tree growing through the middle of the house of Calder, older (I was told) than the fabric itself, the house being originally built round the tree, leaving it standing. The whole place is at present a deserted ruin, imbosomed in, and over-run by rude neglected trees, both forest and fruit. A multiplicity of what I took for gyne trees (a small sort of plum), notwithstanding their being choked by high nettles, and other weeds and rubbish, were covered with ripe fruit as I passed this ancient ruin. The road from the castle winds round the orchard wall, and soon comes to a burn, which for width should be called a river, issuing from the matted trees of Calder, and guarding its eastern side. In approaching to this burn I found the road very rough and stony; but I was astonished when I came to the burn's side to find no bridge, and the broad bed of the burn full of very large round stones, washed from the mountains. These stones lie very thick all over the bed, heaped one upon another, except just in the current. I called a council to determine if I could step from stone to stone.—No. There was that day too great a depth of water, where the current ran, even for the servant to wade it. I was therefore obliged to sit still, and the poor horses began to scramble amongst the stones, of which many, I am sure, were three feet above the bottom of the burn; where the poor animals found room to place their feet between them, or sufficient strength to drag the heavy carriage over them, I cannot imagine. It took a length of time, and I was not free from great fear, that some disaster would befall the chaise before it reached the shore; the stony bed being, I verily believe, twenty yards wide. I never shall forget the crossing of the burn of Calder, at Calder castle, which in a flood must be a very furious rapid water. Two miles further, I came to the Nairn river: on its banks, near the bridge, stands a house well situated on an eminence, called Kilravock, with some handsome looking plantations about it. The face of the country towards the towns of Nairn and Forres, is very flat and no way interesting. I passed by a small lake or two, and soon got a perfect view of Fort George, the Firth by it, and the bold shores of Rossshire in the back-ground, with Inverness and its mountains on the left hand. At a distance Fort George looks like a large castle in the sea; for the flat sands to the east of the fort (the only dry approach to it) are, even at a moderate distance, confounded with the sea, which bounds it on every other side. Indeed the sea seems to have been robbed by damming up the oblong sand bank, whereon the fortification is erected.
Fort George is in complete repair, and fit for defence. As for Fort Augustus and Fort William, they are now only make-believe forts.
The entrance into Fort George struck me with awe; for as the carriage drove to the outer gate, "stop" was the word, with fierce centinels on every side, crying, "who goes there?" My name being given, they slowly marched to the governor, or fort major, for permission to enter. After waiting a considerable time, the outer gate was thrown open, and the postillion bid to come on. Thump, thump, went the horses' feet over a draw-bridge and through a covered way, with wood on the bottom, sounding like thunder; and when I was fairly in the fort, they closed the huge gates, grinding on their hinges, leaving me in the midst of red coats, cannon, musquets, and bayonets. I felt a little unusual on the occasion, something like being shut up in a prison, whence I might never escape. I am totally unqualified to give a proper description of fortifications; but so far I can say, that Fort George, within itself, is like a small town. The common parade is spacious; it is an oblong, with four angles, having handsome houses joining each other on every side, except an opening, about the middle of it, of a street leading each way; the one to the chapel, magazines, and work-shops; the other to the grand parade, where are the governor's and fort major's houses, with many other good houses, besides apartments belonging to the soldiers. The walk round the ramparts is very pleasant in fine weather; but in winter it must be very bleak and cold, having no shelter of any kind. The sea must often run very high at Fort George, from the wide part of the Firth to the narrower, the fort being just at the strait between the two. I should not be very desirous of crossing the ferry from Fort George to Fortrose in Rossshire, observing the vessels passing between those places to be prodigiously buffeted by the waves. The Beauley ferry is by far the shortest and safest between Invernessshire and Rossshire. Though I was entirely unknown at the fort, the lieutenant-governor, with the utmost politeness, sent an officer to conduct me over every part of the fortification, and to shew me every thing I was capable of noticing. It rained the chief part of the time I was inclosed in the fort, which was a great mortification to me, particularly in the afternoon, as it prevented the usual parade. The Lorns were at that time quartered at Fort George; a fine body of men; and to have seen them all drawn out and perform their exercise, would have pleased me very much; but such disappointments must for ever occur in a long tour.