Fast fade the cares of life's dull even,
They perish as the weed,
While unto me the power is given,
A moral deep to read,
In every silent throe of mind,
Eternal beauties breed.
It would be pleasant, but we have not time, to make the acquaintance of some of the Glasgow clergy, particularly of the classic Wardlaw, the vigorous Heugh,[157] the accomplished King, the energetic Robson, the intelligent Buchanan, the eloquent Willis, the strong "in knee'd" Anderson, and others of equal distinction. A fair specimen of the Scottish clergy has been given in the ministers of Edinburgh, and that must suffice for the present.
CHAPTER XV.
Dumbarton Castle—Lochlomond—Luss—Ascent of Benlomond—Magnificent Views—Ride to Loch-Katrine—Rob Roy Macgregor—'Gathering of Clan Gregor'—Loch-Katrine and the Trosachs—The city of Perth—Martyrdom of Helen Stark and her husband.
Embarking in a steamer at Glasgow, we glide down the Clyde as far as Dumbarton Castle, which rises, in stern and solitary majesty, from the bosom of the river,—
"A castled steep,
Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it
A metaphor of peace."
In ancient times, however, those old battlements frequently stood the shock of invading war. Dumbarton was the "Alcluith" of the ancient Britons, subsequently "Dumbriton," or "the fortified hill of the Britons." The vale of the Clyde was called "Strathclutha," and here was the capital of the kingdom of the "Strathclyde Britons." "Alcluith" is the "Balclutha" of Ossian; balla signifying a wall or bulwark, from the Latin vallum, a wall. "I have seen the walls of Balclutha," sings Ossian, in the poem of Carron, "but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls; and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of the Clutha (Clyde) was removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook here its lonely head; the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows; the rank grass of the walls waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Morna; silence is in the house of her fathers." In the reign of Queen Mary this stronghold was taken by an escalade. This was accomplished by Captain Crawford, an officer of great energy and talent, who acted for the confederated lords who opposed Queen Mary after the death of her husband, Henry Darnley. Provided with scaling-ladders, and whatever else was necessary, Crawford set out from Glasgow with a small but determined body of men. The night was dark and misty, when they reached the castle-walls. Crawford, and a soldier who acted as a guide, scrambled up to a ledge of rock, where they fastened a ladder to a tree, which grew on one of its cliffs. Ascending by this means, the whole party stood together with their chief on this natural parapet. But they were far from the point which they hoped to reach. Again the ladder was planted, and the ascent begun. But all at once one of the foremost soldiers, when half way up the ladder, was seized with a sudden fit, and clung to the ladder stiff and motionless. All further progress was at an end. What to do they knew not. To cut him down would be cruel, and besides might awaken the garrison. In this emergency, Crawford had the man secured, by means of ropes to the ladder, which was turned over and all passed up in safety to the foot of the wall. Day began to break, and they hastened to scale the wall. The first man who reached the parapet was seen by a sentinel, who was quickly knocked in the head. The whole party, with furious shouts, rushed over the wall, and took possession of the magazine, seized the cannon, and before the besieged could help themselves, had entire control of the Castle.
But we cannot linger here; so, bidding adieu to Dumbarton, with its martial associations, we strike off from the river at right angles, and, after a pleasant ride of four or five miles, through a peaceful and agreeable country, we reach the south end of Lochlomond, the "Queen of the Scottish lakes," where we find a little steamer in waiting, which takes us, and a company of sportsmen, travellers and others, over the placid waves of this magnificent sheet of water. The lake is some thirty miles in length, and of unequal breadth, being sometimes four or five miles, and then again not more than a single mile in width, gorgeously begemmed with verdant and beautifully wooded islands, of larger and smaller size, to the number of thirty, and shaded here and there by mountains, covered with verdure and trees to their summits, or grim cliffs, towering, in solitary grandeur, above the dark and heaving waters beneath. How finely our little steamer dashes the water from her prow, as if she really enjoyed the trip, among the beautiful scenery of this charming lake! What variety of light and shade! What diversity of scene, as isle after isle, bold headland, lofty cliff, or wooded acclivity, meets the gaze! How earth and air and sky, yon fleecy clouds that skirt the horizon, wild crags, and verdant slopes, clumps of trees on the water's edge, islands of green mirroring their foliage in the bosom of the lake, mingle and intermingle in ever varying forms of beauty and grandeur! Yonder, too, is Benlomond, the genius of the place, towering above the lesser mountains, and looking down, as if protectingly, upon the lake he loves. The shores are exceedingly beautiful; on one side lying low, "undulating with fields and groves, where many a pleasant dwelling is embowered, into lines of hills that gradually soften away into another land. On the other side, sloping back, or overhanging, mounts beautiful in their bareness, for they are green as emerald; others, scarcely more beautiful, studded with fair trees, some altogether woods. They soon form into mountains, and the mountains become more and more majestical, yet beauty never deserts them, and her spirit continues to tame that of the frowning cliffs." "The islands," continues Professor Wilson, from whom we make this fine extract, "are forever arranging themselves into new forms, every one more and more beautiful; at least so they seem to be, perpetually occurring, yet always unexpected; and there is a pleasure even in such a series of slight surprises that enhances the delight of admiration."