Our travellers, whatever may have been their motive, leaving the Field of Culloden unvisited and unnoticed, arrived at Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. They put up at Mackenzie’s Inn. Of their accommodation they say nothing; but it can scarcely have been good, if we may trust an English traveller who two years earlier had found, he said, the Horns Inn, kept by Mrs. Mackenzie, dirty and ill-managed.[577] Perhaps they felt as Wolfe did when he was stationed in the town with his regiment. “It would be unmanly,” he wrote, “and very unbecoming a soldier to complain of little evils, such as bad food, bad lodging, bad fire.... With these reflections I reconcile myself to Inverness, and to other melancholy spots that we are thrown upon.” He adds that the post goes but once a week, and that as there are rapid rivers on the road that have neither bridge nor boat, it is often delayed by the floods.[578] Wesley describes Inverness as the largest town he had seen in Scotland after Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen. “It stands in a pleasant and fruitful country, and has all things needful for life and godliness. The people in general speak remarkably good English, and are of a friendly, courteous behaviour.”[579] Their good English they were said to derive from the garrison which Cromwell had settled among them. It had been noticed by Defoe. “They speak,” he said, “perfect English, even much better than in the most southerly provinces of Scotland; nay, some will say that they speak it as well as at London, though I do not grant that neither.”[580] Their behaviour had greatly improved in the thirteen years which had elapsed between Wolfe’s second and Wesley’s first visit, unless the soldier had viewed them with the stern eye of the conqueror, or they had displayed the sullenness of the conquered. “A little while,” he wrote, “serves to discover the villainous nature of the inhabitants and brutality of the people in the neighbourhood.”[581] Yet the brutality was quite as much on the side of the army, for a year later, five full years after the battle, we find the people still treated with harshness and insolence. The magistrates had invited Lord Bury, the general in command, to an entertainment on the Duke of Cumberland’s birthday. “He said he did not doubt but it would be more agreeable to the duke if they postponed it to the day following, the anniversary of Culloden. They stared, said they could not promise on their own authority, but would go and consult their body. They returned, told him it was unprecedented and could not be complied with. Lord Bury replied he was sorry they had not given a negative at once, for he had mentioned it to his soldiers, who would not bear a disappointment, and was afraid it would provoke them to some outrage upon the town. This did; they celebrated Culloden.”[582]
The old town had witnessed a strange sight in the first days after the battle. The soldiers had held a fair for the sale of the plunder which they had made. “The traffic on the Rialto Bridge was nothing in comparison to the business done by our military merchants; here being great sortments of all manner of plaids, broad-swords, dirks and pistols, and plaid-waistcoats, officers’ laced waistcoats, hats, bonnets, blankets, and oatmeal bags.”[583] The severity that was so long exercised by government at length sank into neglect. Only five years before the arrival of our travellers all the prisoners, just before the opening of the Assize, made their escape from the town jail; “so the Lord Pitfour,” a writer to the Signet wrote, “will have the trouble only of fugitation and reprimanding the magistrates.”[584] How miserable the jail was is shown in a memorial from the Town Council, dated March 17, 1786, stating that “it consists only of two small cells for criminals, and one miserable room for civil debtors. Their situation is truly deplorable, as there are at present and generally about thirty persons confined in these holes, none of which is above thirteen feet square.”[585] While the poor prisoners were so cruelly treated, the lawyers had a merry time of it every time that so hospitable a judge as Boswell’s father came the circuit:—
“Lord Auchinleck made a most respectable figure at the head of his circuit table. It was his rule to spend every shilling of his allowance for the circuit—a thing less to be expected that in everything else he was supposed to be abundantly economical. He had a plentiful table. He laughed much at the rule laid down by some of his brethren of asking gentlemen but once to dinner. ‘It is,’ said he, ‘treating them like beggars at a burial, who get their alms in rotation.’”[586]
We are not surprised that Boswell found that “everybody at Inverness spoke of Lord Auchinleck with uncommon regard.”
The English chapel, which Johnson describes as “meanly built, but with a very decent congregation,” was pulled down many years ago. On its site, in the midst of the same old graveyard, another building has been raised in what may be perhaps called the church-warden style. Of Macbeth’s castle—“what is called the castle of Macbeth,” writes Johnson with his usual caution—nothing remains. If we may trust Boswell, “it perfectly corresponded with Shakespeare’s description.” It has been replaced by “a modern building of chaste castellated design,” to borrow the language of the guide-book. I was told, however, that our travellers had been misinformed, and that “the old original Macbeth’s castle” stood on a height a little distance from the town. This “pleasant seat” has been treated, I found, even worse than its rival; for a builder, thinking that the air “might nimbly and sweetly recommend itself” to the public as well as to a king, began the erection of a crescent. Owing to a difficulty about a right of way, the speculation hitherto has not been so successful as might have been feared.
THE ENTRANCE TO THE HIGHLANDS.
At Inverness the Lowland life came to an end. To the west of that town no road had ever been made till some years after the rising of 1715. All beyond was the work of General Wade and the other military engineers. “Here,” writes Johnson, “the appearance of life began to alter. I had seen a few women with plaids at Aberdeen, but at Inverness the Highland manners are common. There is, I think, a kirk in which only the Erse language is used.” The plaid, which was not peculiar to the Highlands, had been rapidly going out of fashion. Ramsay of Ochtertyre says that in 1747, when he first knew Edinburgh, nine-tenths of the ladies still wore them. Five years later “one could hardly see a lady in that piece of dress. In the course of seven or eight years the very servant girls were ashamed of being seen in that ugly antiquated garb.”[587] The Gaelic language does not seem to have lost much ground in Inverness, for I was told that there are five churches in which it is used every Sunday at one of the services.
