MACLEOD’S TABLES.
DUNGEONS AND PIT.
The dungeons and the pit are not described by either Boswell or Johnson, though the sight of them, we would willingly believe, must have roused their indignation. In these old castles there are few things more shocking than the close neighbourhood of festivity and misery. It shows a callousness to human suffering which almost passes belief. If a prisoner is in a remote part of a great castle, the imagination then must come into play to bring his sufferings before the mind; but when he is close at hand, when his sorrowful sighing is only kept by the thickness of a single wall from mingling with the prattle of children and the merriment of feasters, then the heart must be hard indeed which is not touched. At Dunvegan a door to the left opened into a pleasant sitting-room, and to the right into the chief dungeon. In it there was no window, not even one of those narrow slits by which a few rays can struggle in. But there was something worse even than the dungeon. In the floor there was an opening by which the unhappy prisoner could be lowered into a deep-pit. Here he would dwell in ever-during dark, never cheered by the hurried glimpse of daylight such as broke the long night in the prison above whenever the jailer paid his visit. The door of the other dungeon—for there was yet another—is in the wall of a bedroom, which is furnished in so old a style that it is likely enough that the curious bed and hangings were gazed at by many a prisoner as he was hurried by.
As we wandered through these old rooms and staircases and passages, we were told of a poor woman from St. Kilda, who like ourselves was shown over the castle. As she went on she became so bewildered by the number of the rooms, that she begged to be allowed to keep fast hold of the hand of the person who was conducting her, for fear she might get lost and never find her way out. The story called to my mind a man from the same remote island mentioned by Martin. He was taken to Glasgow, and though in those days it was but a small town, nevertheless he was so much scared that in like manner he clung to his guide’s hand as long as he was in the streets.[656] The poor woman must have breathed more freely when she at length reached the court-yard and looked out over the familiar sea. The platform, then, no doubt was rough with stone, but now it is soft with green turf. I looked there for the false stone cannons which Boswell mentions, but I learnt that they had been moved to the top of one of the towers. In their place are some of iron, venerable by their antiquity, but unfit for service. Against one of the low walls which enclose this pleasant court leans a piece of old sculpture, the effigy probably of some lady of the family.
TERRACE.
ISLAND ISA.
Three or four miles down the loch, and out of sight of the castle, lies the little island of Isa or Issay, “which Macleod said he would give to Dr. Johnson, on condition of his residing on it three months in the year; nay, one month. Dr. Johnson was highly amused with the fancy. He talked a great deal of this island; how he would build a house there—how he would fortify it—how he would have cannon—how he would plant—how he would sally out, and take the Isle of Muck; and then he laughed with uncommon glee, and could hardly leave off. Macleod encouraged the fancy of Dr. Johnson’s becoming owner of an island; told him that it was the practice in that country to name every man by his lands, and begged leave to drink to him in that mode, ‘Island Isa, your health.’ Ulinish, Talisker, M’Queen, and I all joined in our different manners, while Dr. Johnson bowed to each with much good humour.” To Mrs. Thrale he wrote: “Macleod has offered me an island; if it were not too far off I should hardly refuse it; my island would be pleasanter than Brighthelmstone if you and my master could come to it; but I cannot think it pleasant to live quite alone,
‘Oblitusque meorum, obliviscendus et illis.’”[657]