A Companion and Useful Guide to the Beauties of Scotland/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V.
The town of Crieff, one of the barrier Highland towns, is sweetly situated, just as it were without the jaws of the Highlands; I say jaws, for I observed that in most grand passes there are castle-like hills placed at the entrance, as sturdy guards, to chop off and obstruct the way of obtruders. Those that guard the pass towards Loch Earn, near Crieff, are particularly beautiful, and have been covered with wood; and formerly, in all probability, strong forts, of powerful chiefs, were built thereon, as their Galic name denotes. To the south-east of Crieff, on a pretty eminence, the white walls of Drummond Castle rise; it is about two miles from Crieff; and the road to it is by a part of the old Roman road to Stirling, which is a straight line, with trees on each side. The approach to Drummond Castle is on the right hand, by a modern lodge, not very suitable to the rest of the place; and then through a most beautiful avenue of fine large old trees. Immediately below the house is a bridge, to break the steep ascent to it; from the bridge, the road, canopied by trees, winds round a sloping pleasure-ground to the castle, of which indeed there is but a very small part remaining. The modern habitation is two sides of a square; and the side in which are the best apartments, faces that part of Strath Earn running towards the east; from those rooms is an extensive view, but not half so fine as that to the west, over Crieff, and those beautiful hills that stop the pass, towards the lake, and the stupendous mountains around it, which give sublimity, magnificence, and beauty to the whole scene. Close by Drummond Castle is a charming piece of crag, on which Mrs. Drummond, now Lady Perth, has erected a fog, or moss-house, commanding a delightful view of the country. Beyond the fog-house crag, Top Thurloch, raises its brown, though not ill-shaped, high crest.
By Glen Almond is another grand pass through the Grampions; I therefore set out from Ochtertyre to visit that wild region; and passed by the Horsh, the retreat of a worthy gentleman, a name-sake, close by a burn side, between two hills; from thence to Monzie; and soon after entered the high road from Crieff to Amulrie. The view from that road going up the hill over Ochtertyre to the mountains, about Loch Earn, is worth going several miles to see. After that view, there was little but distant hills and heath to be seen, till I came to the entrance into Glen Almond. The deep channel of the river I saw winding away to the east, towards Perth; and before me a zig-zag road, creeping down the sides of tremendous hills, leading to a deep narrow glen, so hemmed in by immense mountains, that at first sight a stranger sees no way to escape out of it. The entrance into Glen Almond from Crieff has something uncommonly striking in it;—prodigious craggy mountains rising to the sky, bending their rough heads to each other over the Glen through which the water rolls, in a stony bed, murmuring as it flows. In some parts, the craggy precipices sweep to the edge of the river; in others, small patches of velvet-looking verdure smile at the crags, careless of their frowns, and heedless too of the deep murmurs of the limpid stream which gave them birth. I entered this silent solemn pass (where no trace of human habitation is seen, no sound heard, save that of the bleating sheep, and the rushing of the water) with awful pleasure, and wild as the scene appeared, I was delighted with it. The river Almond in floods, and on sudden thaws, is a prodigiously furious water; it rises rapidly to an incredible height, and roars down with such violence that it carries every thing before it with a noise like thunder. It was not in that state when I saw it; but was as clear as crystal, complaining only of the numerous asperities which impeded its course, and formed cascades, which were echoed by the mountains. The small patches of verdure by the river's side were remarkably beautiful from the colour and the fine soft texture of the grass, contrasted with the rough sides of the shivered stony mountains. The Glen as far as Newton, two miles, is in width about half an acre. The road, the river, at the edge of which the road runs, and the patches of verdure, fill up the space. It struck me in going down into this Glen, that it probably once might have been a subterraneous cavern, like that now at Castleton, in Derbyshire; and that by some great convulsion it had been torn asunder at the top, and thrown back on each side. The same idea occurred when I saw Dovedale, in Derbyshire.
At Newton is a romantic bridge, over the Almond; and on the north of it are two or three huts.
The road to Amulrie there leaves Glen Almond, and proceeds to Strath Brand. While my horses were resting at the huts, called Newton, I walked up about two miles in Glen Almond, and every step opened a new beauty to my sight. The Glen increases in width, and is tolerably well wooded, particularly on the banks of the river; the fields producing grass, barley, and oats. On the north side of the river, from the top of a very high mountain, falls a torrent, which in violent rains must be magnificent. It had been many days fine weather when I saw this torrent, notwithstanding it was grand. I sat down to rest at the entrance of the fall into the Almond, among huge pieces of rocks brought down by its force, admiring the scene with delight; surrounded by birch, alder, mountain ash, with other trees; fern, and all sorts of large aquatic plants and weeds; the torrent tumbling from above, and dashing beneath against the huge stones, on one of which I sat. Such scenes as those raise the soul to the first Cause of all things; and there it is lost to all sensations, but those of gratitude and calm delight. As I sat among the stones, viewing the torrent, Mr. Knight's Poem, called the Landscape, came into my mind; and I was glad to find in the scene before me, no trace, no slime of the modern shavers of dame Nature; the sweet simple goddess there reigned triumphant, and feared neither their trimming razors, nor their sluggish serpentines.
I left Glen Almond with regret; ascended the same zig-zag by which I entered it, and proceeded, at no very great distance, by the course of the Almond to the Brig of Buchanty; a very singular and romantic spot. The country all around this bridge is an extensive waste of black and brown; but on a sudden the eye is unexpectedly caught by the sight of a mill, and the river running in a very narrow channel to the bridge, with trees hanging over it, and wood feathering down to the water over huge rocks, on which the bridge rests; also the roaring water, bursting through its dark and close passage, to fall with a tremendous noise under the arch, altogether rendering this spot beautifully picturesque.
I was going on to make a visit at Logie Almond; and I can say but little, either for the beauty of the country, or the road from Buchanty thither; for except the great number of neat (and in a far better style than any other I saw in Scotland) farm houses on Mr. Drummond's estate, all appeared dreary, black, and bare. Logie Almond, within itself, abounds in wood, and the house is situated on the bank of the Almond, very romanticly. But of all the spots, for its size, none can compare to the sweet Eden, of Leadnock.
The old Scotch ballad, of Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, gives the history of two affectionate faithful friends; how
"They bigg'd a bower on yon burn brae,
"And theek'd it o'er with rashes," &c.
And it is the burn that moans through the thickets at Leadnock, by which these friends chose to big their bower, and there to retire to avoid the plague. Their lover followed them; but they did not escape the fatal disease, for all three fell victims to its rage.
About thirty years since, the small estate of Leadnock was purchased by an officer, who found it in the rudest state of nature. Like our first parent, he pruned and planted; and with his faithful Eve, morning and evening, saw that it was good; and for it rejoiced, and were thankful to Him who gives and takes away. Every thing flourished under the fostering hands of this worthy pair.
The woods, the walks, the verdant banks, the blooming rose, and twining woodbine, all proclaimed their taste and industry; not a spot in their Paradise but what was noticed and named emblematically. The house and garden, situated on a small plain, are embowered with trees of my friend's planting. In front of the house is a lawn, of an unequal semicircle, at the edge of which is an almost perpendicular rough rocky bank, where deep below rolls the Almond river, more picturesque than can be described, over a wide rocky bed, dashing through its winding way, darkened by high projecting rocks on both sides of it, with wood sprouting from every cliff, and feathering to the roaring stream. On the Leadnock side, upon the lawn, on the rocks, down the rocks, and on every side, are fine trees of every description; particularly those to the left (in appearance impenetrable) towards the old Brig of Almond. To the right is a winding walk to the edge of the rocks hanging over the river; and at the top of a very steep path a stone seat is placed, on which is cut, "rest, and be thankful."
The owner and creator of Leadnock was in Lord Ancram's regiment, the 24th, when in the year 1746 that regiment made the road through Glen Croe, in Argyleshire; and put up the stone on the top of the high hill between Glen Croe and Glen Kinglass, called Rest and be thankful. At the bottom of the steep path I came to the most beautiful meadow that fancy can form, with a numerous flock of sheep feeding on its lovely green pasture. The Almond, with high rocky banks on one side of it, and flat to this lovely meadow on the other, sweeps round the better half of it; and on the other parts of this pastoral lawn, rising from it, are the thick woods of Leadnock, and the high banks of Logie Almond, covered with impenetrable underwood, and backed by noble timber trees; with the burn of the fair friends, marking the division of property, moaning in its course down the brae over pieces of rock, and through tufted branches, stumps of trees, and bushes, to join the Almond below. In this Arcadian meadow, under the hanging wood of Leadnock, I came to a bit of ground, walled in, and on a stone in the wall I read this simple inscription, "The tomb of Bessy Bell and Mary Gray." I plainly saw the marks of two graves, by the rising of the sod: the third, that of the lover, said to be at their feet, I could not find. These walls were raised, and within and without planted with all sorts of odoriferous shrubs and flowers, by the Officer above mentioned, who discovered the graves, unveiled the natural beauties of Leadnock, and brought them to perfection. The present owner of that sweet place, Mr. Graham of Balgowan, has greatly improved the farming part of it: but that where taste and sentiment prevailed is fast decaying, and sadly wants the parent's prop, who made it what it was, and far beyond comparison with what it is now. It is a pity Mr. Graham does not quit Balgowan, upon the boggy Pow, and gladden the Eden of Leadnock with the chief residence of an hospitable benevolent lord.
The carriage road to Leadnock from Logie Almond is a great way about; and the walks through the woods that were once made and kept open for the convenience of the families of Leadnock and Logie, are now entirely obliterated and choked by thick wood, briers, springs, and every obstacle that rude nature has combined to destroy them. I was determined, however, to see that admired place. I set out alone, and contrived to lose my way; and into the bargain, got my flesh and my clothing tattered and torn; but I was resolved to accomplish my purpose, I therefore pierced thick woods, climbed stone walls, clambered over ploughed clods, knee deep, waded the burn, and at last succeeded. I was hospitably regaled with some nice mutton and potatoes at Leadnock house; a very acceptable refreshment after my laborious, lonely, blundering walk. The good man and his wife belonging to Mr. Graham, attentively shewed me all that could be seen, and then set me in the right road to Logie.