Within the last thirty years the population of Dundee has been more than doubled; its charitable contributions have risen from under £2,000 to nearly £12,000 per annum; its shipping has increased fourfold; while its linen trade has been called almost entirely into existence. But the reverse of the picture must not be concealed—the assessment of the poor has advanced tenfold; in 1791, it was £400, it is now upwards of £10,000. This is an evil, it has been said, inseparable from prosperous communities, for the poor generally flock to, or are increased in them; and where multitudes are gathered together at various employments, example does not always favour economy, industry, and virtue. Nor is it easy, amidst the spirit of enterprise which is now abroad, to suggest any improvement for the town which the resident authorities have not already in contemplation.
Full tide in the estuary of the Tay is generally said to occur, on the days of the new and full moon, at a quarter past two o'clock, but in the harbour of Dundee it flows till about half-past two. The average height of the spring-tides, as measured by an index at the entrance to King William's Dock, is about seventeen feet, while that of the neap-tides is about eleven feet. The water opposite the town, though saline, is not wholly marine, but considerably diluted by the fresh water flowing down the river; and this is the reason, probably, why sea-water insects never attack the piles, buoys, or beacons about the harbour. Opposite the town, the river Tay is very nearly two miles broad. The channel across is much interrupted by a sand-bank, which, though formed within the last forty years, has now at full spring-tides only about ten feet water over its surface, and at neap-tides scarcely more than four. Its position is not far from midway across; its form is spindle-shaped; its length, as seen at low water, upwards of a mile; and its course parallel with that of the river. At present, its lower or eastern extremity is stretching down in the form of a curve, concave towards the harbour of Dundee; but it is so constantly altering its features, that no further remark need be made upon it than this, that it is always accumulating, and slowly moving down the river. This sand-bank, in reference to the navigation of the Tay, is naturally an object of no small interest and solicitude.
THE ABBEY OF ARBROATH.
The Harbour, which was originally at the end of the East Causeway, was formed about the remote period of 1194; but being ill-constructed for the craft and increasing traffic of more modern times, a brief or bill was obtained for building a new pier in 1725, and which is situated a little to the westward of the old one. It is strongly built of stone, and, though not capacious, is sufficiently commodious to admit of vessels lying close to any part of it, either to receive or discharge their cargoes. During spring-tides there is a depth of from fifteen to sixteen feet of water at the entrance, and at neap-tides of from nine to ten feet; but it is dry at low water. Here, as in most of the other ports of this coast, there is a considerable foreign trade carried on with Russia, Norway, and Sweden, as well as a home-trade in lime, coals, and agricultural produce. The trade at this port is now so rapidly increasing, that great improvements in the harbour are contemplated. It counts seventy-seven vessels of its own, registering 6700 tons.
Near the south side of the harbour of Arbroath is a handsome signal-tower fifty feet high, which is used for communicating with the keepers of the Bell Rock Lighthouse. On a clear day this gigantic column may be seen rising from the sea at the distance of about twelve miles. The Bell Rock, so long known and celebrated in history, tradition, and poetry as the "Inchcape," is thus described by an ancient chronicler: "By east the Castle of May twelve miles from all land, in the German Sea, lies a great hidden rock called Inchcape, very dangerous for navigators, because it is overflowed every tide. It is reported that in old times, upon the said rock, there was a bell fixed upon a tree or timber, which rang continually, being moved by the sea, and thus gave notice to sailors of their danger. This bell, or cloche, was put thus, and maintained by the pious Abbot of Arbroath, and being taken down by a sea-pirate a year thereafter, he perished upon the same rock, with ship and cargo, in the righteous judgment of God."[12]
But the glory of Arbroath, as every reader knows, is its Abbey, which, as seen in the accompanying view, presents one of the most imposing monastic ruins in existence. It was founded in 1178, by King William the Lion, who was buried here, and dedicated to St. Thomas à Becket, of Canterbury. The monks, to whose ministry this sumptuous temple was consigned, were of the Benedictine or Tyronensian order, and brought from the Abbey of Kelso, the abbot of which declared them, on their first instalment, free from his jurisdiction. The monastery, thus tenanted, soon obtained those great and peculiar privileges which it long continued to enjoy. Its abbots were frequently the first churchmen of the kingdom; and a charter from King John of England, under the great seal, is still extant, by which the monastery and the citizens of Aberbrothock are exempted a teloniis et consuetudine, in every part of England, except London and Oxford.