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<h2> To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. </h2>
<h3> DEAR KNIGHT, </h3>
<p>I am now little short of the Ultima Thule, if this appellation properly
belongs to the Orkneys or Hebrides. These last are now lying before me, to
the amount of some hundreds, scattered up and down the Deucalidonian sea,
affording the most picturesque and romantic prospect I ever beheld—I
write this letter in a gentleman's house, near the town of Inverary which
may be deemed the capital of the West Highlands, famous for nothing so
much as for the stately castle begun, and actually covered in by the late
duke of Argyle, at a prodigious expence—Whether it will ever be
completely finished is a question.—</p>
<p>But, to take things in order—We left Edinburgh ten days ago; and the
further North we proceed, we find Mrs Tabitha the less manageable; so that
her inclinations are not of the nature of the loadstone; they point not
towards the pole. What made her leave Edinburgh with reluctance at last,
if we may believe her own assertions, was a dispute which she left
unfinished with Mr Moffat, touching the eternity of hell torments. That
gentleman, as he advanced in years, began to be sceptical on this head,
till, at length, he declared open war against the common acceptation of
the word eternal. He is now persuaded, that eternal signifies no more than
an indefinite number of years; and that the most enormous sinner may be
quit for nine millions, nine hundred thousand, nine hundred and
ninety-nine years of hell-fire; which term or period, as he very well
observes, forms but an inconsiderable drop, as it were, in the ocean of
eternity—For this mitigation he contends, as a system agreeable to
the ideas of goodness and mercy, which we annex to the supreme Being—Our
aunt seemed willing to adopt this doctrine in favour of the wicked; but he
hinted that no person whatever was so righteous as to be exempted entirely
from punishment in a future state; and that the most pious Christian upon
earth might think himself very happy to get off for a fast of seven or
eight thousand years in the midst of fire and brimstone. Mrs Tabitha
revolted at this dogma, which filled her at once with horror and
indignation—She had recourse to the opinion of Humphry Clinker, who
roundly declared it was the popish doctrine of purgatory, and quoted
scripture in defence of the fire everlasting, prepared for the devil and
his angels—The reverend master Mackcorkendal, and all the
theologists and saints of that persuasion were consulted, and some of them
had doubts about the matter; which doubts and scruples had begun to infect
our aunt, when we took our departure from Edinburgh.</p>
<p>We passed through Linlithgow, where there was an elegant royal palace,
which is now gone to decay, as well as the town itself—This too is
pretty much the case with Stirling, though it still boasts of a fine old
castle in which the kings of Scotland were wont to reside in their
minority—But Glasgow is the pride of Scotland, and, indeed, it might
very well pass for an elegant and flourishing city in any part of
Christendom. There we had the good fortune to be received into the house
of Mr Moore, an eminent surgeon, to whom we were recommended by one of our
friends at Edinburgh; and, truly, he could not have done us more essential
service—Mr Moore is a merry facetious companion, sensible and
shrewd, with a considerable fund of humour; and his wife an agreeable
woman, well bred, kind, and obliging. Kindness, which I take to be the
essence of good-nature and humanity, is the distinguishing characteristic
of the Scotch ladies in their own country—Our landlord shewed us
every thing, and introduced us to all the world at Glasgow; where, through
his recommendation, we were complimented with the freedom of the town.
Considering the trade and opulence of this place, it cannot but abound
with gaiety and diversions. Here is a great number of young fellows that
rival the youth of the capital in spirit and expence; and I was soon
convinced, that all the female beauties of Scotland were not assembled at
the hunters ball in Edinburgh—The town of Glasgow flourishes in
learning as well as in commerce—Here is an university, with
professors in all the different branches of science, liberally endowed,
and judiciously chosen—It was vacation time when I passed, so that I
could not entirely satisfy my curiosity; but their mode of education is
certainly preferable to ours in some respects. The students are not left
to the private instruction of tutors; but taught in public schools or
classes, each science by its particular professor or regent.</p>
<p>My uncle is in raptures with Glasgow—He not only visited all the
manufactures of the place, but made excursions all round to Hamilton,
Paisley, Renfrew, and every other place within a dozen miles, where there
was any thing remarkable to be seen in art or nature. I believe the
exercise, occasioned by those jaunts, was of service to my sister Liddy,
whose appetite and spirits begin to revive—Mrs Tabitha displayed her
attractions as usual, and actually believed she had entangled one Mr
Maclellan, a rich inkle-manufacturer, in her snares; but when matters came
to an explanation, it appeared that his attachment was altogether
spiritual, founded upon an intercourse of devotion, at the meeting of Mr
John Wesley; who, in the course of his evangelical mission, had come
hither in person—At length, we set out for the banks of
Lough-Lomond, passing through the little borough of Dumbarton, or (as my
uncle will have it) Dunbritton, where there is a castle, more curious than
any thing of the kind I had ever seen. It is honoured with a particular
description by the elegant Buchanan, as an arx inexpugnabilis, and,
indeed, it must have been impregnable by the antient manner of besieging.
It is a rock of considerable extent, rising with a double top, in an angle
formed by the confluence of two rivers, the Clyde and the Leven;
perpendicular and inaccessible on all sides, except in one place where the
entrance is fortified; and there is no rising ground in the neighbourhood
from whence it could be damaged by any kind of battery.</p>
<p>From Dumbarton, the West Highlands appear in the form of huge, dusky
mountains, piled one over another; but this prospect is not at all
surprising to a native of Glamorgan—We have fixed our headquarters
at Cameron, a very neat country-house belonging to commissary Smollet,
where we found every sort of accommodation we could desire—It is
situated like a Druid's temple, in a grove of oak, close by the side of
Lough-Lomond, which is a surprising body of pure transparent water,
unfathomably deep in many places, six or seven miles broad, four and
twenty miles in length, displaying above twenty green islands, covered
with wood; some of them cultivated for corn, and many of them stocked with
red deer—They belong to different gentlemen, whose seats are
scattered along the banks of the lake, which are agreeably romantic beyond
all conception. My uncle and I have left the women at Cameron, as Mrs
Tabitha would by no means trust herself again upon the water, and to come
hither it was necessary to cross a small inlet of the sea, in an open
ferry-boat—This country appears more and more wild and savage the
further we advance; and the People are as different from the Low-land
Scots, in their looks, garb, and language, as the mountaineers of
Brecknock are from the inhabitants of Herefordshire.</p>
<p>When the Lowlanders want to drink a chearupping-cup, they go to the public
house, called the Change-house, and call for a chopine of two-penny, which
is a thin, yeasty beverage, made of malt; not quite so strong as the
table-beer of England,—This is brought in a pewter stoop, shaped
like a skittle, from whence it is emptied into a quaff; that is, a curious
cup made of different pieces of wood, such as box and ebony, cut into
little staves, joined alternately, and secured with delicate hoops, having
two cars or handles—It holds about a gill, is sometimes tipt round
the mouth with silver, and has a plate of the same metal at bottom, with
the landlord's cypher engraved.—The Highlanders, on the contrary,
despise this liquor, and regale themselves with whisky; a malt spirit, as
strong as geneva, which they swallow in great quantities, without any
signs of inebriation. They are used to it from the cradle, and find it an
excellent preservative against the winter cold, which must be extreme on
these mountains—I am told that it is given with great success to
infants, as a cordial in the confluent smallpox, when the eruption seems
to flag, and the symptoms grow unfavourable—The Highlanders are used
to eat much more animal food than falls to the share of their neighbours
in the Low-country—They delight in hunting; have plenty of deer and
other game, with a great number of sheep, goats, and black-cattle running
wild, which they scruple not to kill as vension, without being much at
pains to ascertain the property.</p>
<p>Inverary is but a poor town, though it stands immediately under the
protection of the duke of Argyle, who is a mighty prince in this part of
Scotland. The peasants live in wretched cabins, and seem very poor; but
the gentlemen are tolerably well lodged, and so loving to strangers, that
a man runs some risque of his life from their hospitality—It must be
observed that the poor Highlanders are now seen to disadvantage. They have
been not only disarmed by act of parliament, but also deprived of their
ancient garb, which was both graceful and convenient; and what is a
greater hardship still, they are compelled to wear breeches; a restraint
which they cannot bear with any degree of patience: indeed, the majority
wear them, not in the proper place, but on poles or long staves over their
shoulders—They are even debarred the use of their striped stuff
called Tartane, which was their own manufacture, prized by them above all
the velvets, brocades, and tissues of Europe and Asia. They now lounge
along in loose great coats, of coarse russet, equally mean and cumbersome,
and betray manifest marks of dejection—Certain it is, the government
could not have taken a more effectual method to break their national
spirit.</p>
<p>We have had princely sport in hunting the stag on these mountains. These
are the lonely hills of Morven, where Fingal and his heroes enjoyed the
same pastime; I feel an enthusiastic pleasure when I survey the brown
heath that Ossian wont to tread; and hear the wind whistle through the
bending grass—When I enter our landlord's hall, I look for the
suspended harp of that divine bard, and listen in hopes of hearing the
aerial sound of his respected spirit—The poems of Ossian are in
every mouth—A famous antiquarian of this country, the laird of
Macfarlane, at whose house we dined a few days ago, can repeat them all in
the original Gallick, which has a great affinity to the Welch, not only in
the general sound, but also in a great number of radical words; and I make
no doubt that they are both sprung from the same origin. I was not a
little surprised, when asking a Highlander one day, if he knew where we
should find any game? he replied, 'hu niel Sassenagh', which signifies no
English: the very same answer I should have received from a Welchman, and
almost in the same words. The Highlanders have no other name for the
people of the Low-country, but Sassenagh, or Saxons; a strong presumption,
that the Lowland Scots and the English are derived from the same stock—The
peasants of these hills strongly resemble those of Wales in their looks,
their manners, and habitations; every thing I see, and hear, and feel,
seems Welch—The mountains, vales, and streams; the air and climate;
the beef, mutton, and game, are all Welch—It must be owned, however,
that this people are better Provided than we in some articles—They
have plenty of red deer and roebuck, which are fat and delicious at this
season of the year. Their sea teems with amazing quantities of the finest
fish in the world, and they find means to procure very good claret at a
very small expence.</p>
<p>Our landlord is a man of consequence in this part of the country; a cadet
from the family of Argyle and hereditary captain of one of his castles—His
name, in plain English, is Dougal Campbell; but as there is a great number
of the same appellation, they are distinguished (like the Welch) by
patronimics; and as I have known an antient Briton called Madoc ap-Morgan
ap-Jenkin, ap-Jones, our Highland chief designs himself Dou'l Mac-amish
mac-'oul ichian, signifying Dougal, the son of James, the son of Dougal,
the son of John. He has travelled in the course of his education, and is
disposed to make certain alterations in his domestic oeconomy; but he
finds it impossible to abolish the ancient customs of the family; some of
which are ludicrous enough—His piper for example, who is an
hereditary officer of the household, will not part with the least particle
of his privileges. He has a right to wear the kilt, or ancient Highland
dress, with the purse, pistol, and durk—a broad yellow ribbon, fixed
to the chanter-pipe, is thrown over his shoulder, and trails along the
ground, while he performs the function of his minstrelsy; and this, I
suppose, is analogous to the pennon or flag which was formerly carried
before every knight in battle.—He plays before the laird every
Sunday in his way to the kirk, which he circles three times, performing
the family march which implies defiance to all the enemies of the clan;
and every morning he plays a full hour by the clock, in the great hall,
marching backwards and forwards all the time, with a solemn pace, attended
by the laird's kinsmen, who seem much delighted with the music—In
this exercise, he indulges them with a variety of pibrochs or airs, suited
to the different passions, which he would either excite or assuage.</p>
<p>Mr Campbell himself, who performs very well on the violin, has an
invincible antipathy to the sound of the Highland bagpipe, which sings in
the nose with a most alarming twang, and, indeed, is quite intolerable to
ears of common sensibility, when aggravated by the echo of a vaulted hall—He
therefore begged the piper would have some mercy upon him, and dispense
with this part of the morning service—A consultation of the clan
being held on this occasion, it was unanimously agreed, that the laird's
request could not be granted without a dangerous encroachment upon the
customs of the family—The piper declared, he could not give up for a
moment the privilege he derived from his ancestors; nor would the laird's
relations forego an entertainment which they valued above all others—There
was no remedy; Mr Campbell, being obliged to acquiesce, is fain to stop
his ears with cotton; to fortify his head with three or four night-caps
and every morning retire into the penetralia of his habitation, in order
to avoid this diurnal annoyance. When the music ceases, he produces
himself at an open window that looks into the courtyard, which is by this
time filled with a crowd of his vassals and dependents, who worship his
first appearance, by uncovering their heads, and bowing to the earth with
the most humble prostration. As all these people have something to
communicate in the way of proposal, complaint, or petition, they wait
patiently till the laird comes forth, and, following him in his walks, are
favoured each with a short audience in his turn. Two days ago, he
dispatched above an hundred different sollicitors, in walking with us to
the house of a neighbouring gentleman, where we dined by invitation. Our
landlord's housekeeping is equally rough and hospitable, and savours much
of the simplicity of ancient times: the great hall, paved with flat
stones, is about forty-five feet by twenty-two, and serves not only for a
dining-room, but also for a bedchamber, to gentlemen-dependents and
hangers-on of the family. At night, half a dozen occasional beds are
ranged on each side along the wall. These are made of fresh heath, pulled
up by the roots, and disposed in such a manner as to make a very agreeable
couch, where they lie, without any other covering than the plaid—My
uncle and I were indulged with separate chambers and down beds which we
begged to exchange for a layer of heath; and indeed I never slept so much
to my satisfaction. It was not only soft and elastic, but the plant, being
in flower, diffused an agreeable fragrance, which is wonderfully
refreshing and restorative.</p>
<p>Yesterday we were invited to the funeral of an old lady, the grandmother
of a gentleman in this neighbourhood, and found ourselves in the midst of
fifty people, who were regaled with a sumptuous feast, accompanied by the
music of a dozen pipers. In short, this meeting had all the air of a grand
festival; and the guests did such honour to the entertainment, that many
of them could not stand when we were reminded of the business on which we
had met. The company forthwith taking horse, rode in a very irregular
cavalcade to the place of interment, a church, at the distance of two long
miles from the castle. On our arrival, however, we found we had committed
a small oversight, in leaving the corpse behind; so we were obliged to
wheel about, and met the old gentlewoman half way, being carried upon
poles by the nearest relations of her family, and attended by the
coronach, composed of a multitude of old hags, who tore their hair, beat
their breasts, and howled most hideously. At the grave, the orator, or
senachie, pronounced the panegyric of the defunct, every period being
confirmed by a yell of the coronach. The body was committed to the earth,
the pipers playing a pibroch all the time; and all the company standing
uncovered. The ceremony was closed with the discharge of pistols; then we
returned to the castle, resumed the bottle, and by midnight there was not
a sober person in the family, the females excepted. The 'squire and I
were, with some difficulty, permitted to retire with our landlord in the
evening; but our entertainer was a little chagrined at our retreat; and
afterwards seemed to think it a disparagement to his family, that not
above a hundred gallons of whisky had been drunk upon such a solemn
occasion. This morning we got up by four, to hunt the roebuck, and, in
half an hour, found breakfast ready served in the hall. The hunters
consisted of Sir George Colquhoun and me, as strangers (my uncle not
chusing to be of the party), of the laird in person, the laird's brother,
the laird's brother's son, the laird's sister's son, the laird's father's
brother's son, and all their foster brothers, who are counted parcel of
the family: but we were attended by an infinite number of Gaelly's, or
ragged Highlanders without shoes or stockings.</p>
<p>The following articles formed our morning's repast: one kit of boiled
eggs; a second, full of butter; a third full of cream; an entire cheese,
made of goat's milk; a large earthen pot full of honey; the best part of a
ham; a cold venison pasty; a bushel of oat meal, made in thin cakes and
bannocks, with a small wheaten loaf in the middle for the strangers; a
large stone bottle full of whisky, another of brandy, and a kilderkin of
ale. There was a ladle chained to the cream kit, with curious wooden
bickers to be filled from this reservoir. The spirits were drank out of a
silver quaff, and the ale out of hems: great justice was done to the
collation by the guest in general; one of them in particular ate above two
dozen of hard eggs, with a proportionable quantity of bread, butter, and
honey; nor was one drop of liquor left upon the board. Finally, a large
roll of tobacco was presented by way of desert, and every individual took
a comfortable quid, to prevent the bad effects of the morning air. We had
a fine chace over the mountains, after a roebuck, which we killed, and I
got home time enough to drink tea with Mrs Campbell and our 'squire.
To-morrow we shall set out on our return for Cameron. We propose to cross
the Frith of Clyde, and take the towns of Greenock and Port-Glasgow in our
way. This circuit being finished, we shall turn our faces to the south,
and follow the sun with augmented velocity, in order to enjoy the rest of
the autumn in England, where Boreas is not quite so biting as he begins
already to be on the tops of these northern hills. But our progress from
place to place shall continue to be specified in these detached journals
of</p>
<p>Yours always, J. MELFORD ARGYLSHIRE, Sept. 3.</p>
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