LXI. -TO THOMAS KEATS. Cairn-something [for Cairndow,] July 17, [1818]. My dear Tom-Here's Brown going on so that I cannot bring to mind how the two last days have vanished -for example he says The Lady of the Lake went to Rock herself to sleep on Arthur's seat and the Lord of the Isles coming to Press a Piece. . . I told you last how we were stared at in Glasgow-we are not out of the Crowd yet. Steam Boats on Loch Lomond and Barouches on its sides take a little from the Pleasure of such romantic chaps as Brown and I. The Banks of the Clyde are extremely beautiful-the north end of Loch Lomond grand in excess- -the entrance at the lower end to the narrow part from a little distance is precious good— the Evening was beautiful nothing could surpass our fortune in the weather—yet was I worldly enough to wish for a fleet of chivalry Barges with Trumpets and Banners just to die away before me into that blue place among the mountains-I must give you an outline as well as I can.1 Not B - the Water was a fine Blue silvered and the Mountains a dark purple, the Sun setting aslant behind them-meantime the head of ben Lomond was covered with a rich Pink Cloud. We did not ascend Ben Lomond-the price being very high and a half a day of rest being quite acceptable. We were up at 4 this morning and have walked to breakfast 15 Miles through two Tremendous Glens-at the end of the first there is a place called rest and be thankful which we took for an Inn-it was nothing but a Stone and so we were cheated into 5 more Miles to Breakfast-I have just been bathing in Loch Fyne a salt water Lake opposite the Windows, quite pat and fresh but for the cursed Gad flies-damn 'em they have been at me ever since I left the Swan and two necks.2 1 Here follows a sketch. 2 The Swan and Two Necks, Lad Lane, London, seems to have been the coach office for Liverpool and the North-West; compare Lamb's Letters (ed. Ainger), vol. i. p. 241. All gentle folks who owe a grudge Open your ears and stay your trudge The Gadfly he hath stung me sore-- Has any here an old gray Mare And straight she'll run on four. Has any here a Lawyer suit Take Lawyer's nose and put it to't Is there a Man in Parliament O Lowther how much better thou When to the folks thou mad'st a bow If lucky Gadfly had but ta'en To save thee from a worse. Better than Southey it had been, Better than Wordsworth too, I ween, Better than Mr. V. Forgive me pray good people all For deviating so In spirit sure I had a call- Has any here a daughter fair O put a Gadfly to that thing She keeps so white and pert― Has any here a pious spouse Scolds as King David pray'd, to chouse O let a Gadfly's little sting And as this is the summum bo- I leave "withouten wordes mo' [Inverary, July 18.] Last Evening we came round the End of Loch Fyne to Inverary—the Duke of Argyle's Castle is very modern magnificent and more so from the place it is in-the woods seem old enough to remember two or three changes in the Crags about them-the Lake was beautiful and there was a Band at a distance by the Castle. I must say I enjoyed two or three common tunes-but nothing could stifle the horrors of a solo on the Bag-pipe-I thought the Beast would never have done.-Yet was I doomed to hear another.-On entering Inverary we saw a Play Bill. Brown was knocked up from new shoes— so I went to the Barn alone where I saw the Stranger accompanied by a Bag-pipe. There they went on about interesting creaters and human nater till the Curtain fell and then came the Bag-pipe. When Mrs. Haller fainted down went the Curtain and out came the Bag-pipeat the heartrending, shoemending reconciliation the Piper blew amain. I never read or saw this play before; not the Bag-pipe nor the wretched players themselves were little in comparison with it-thank heaven it has been scoffed at lately almost to a fashion Of late two dainties were before me placed O Stranger thou my nerves from Pipe didst charm- Again thou Stranger gav'st me fresh alarm- I think we are the luckiest fellows in Christendom— Brown could not proceed this morning on account of his feet and lo there is thunder and rain. [Kilmelfort,] July 20th. For these two days past we have been so badly accommodated more particularly in coarse food that I have not been at all in cue to write. Last night poor Brown with his feet blistered and scarcely able to walk, after a trudge of 20 Miles down the Side of Loch Awe had no supper but Eggs and Oat Cake—we have lost the sight of white bread entirely-Now we had eaten nothing but Eggs all day-about 10 a piece and they had become sickening-To-day we have fared rather better-but no oat Cake wanting-we had a small Chicken and even a good bottle of Port but all together the fare is too coarse-I feel it a little.-Another week will break us in. I forgot to tell you that when we came through Glenside it was early in the morning and we were pleased with the noise of Shepherds, Sheep and dogs in the misty heights close above us-we saw none of them for some time, till two came in sight creeping among the Crags like Emmets, yet their voices came quite plainly to us- -The approach to Loch Awe was very solemn towards nightfall-the first glance was a streak of water deep in the Bases of large black Mountains.— We had come along a complete mountain road, where if one listened there was not a sound but that of Mountain Streams. We walked 20 Miles by the side of Loch Awe -every ten steps creating a new and beautiful picture— sometimes through little wood-there are two islands on the Lake each with a beautiful ruin-one of them rich in ivy. We are detained this morning by the rain. I will tell you exactly where we are. We are between Loch Craignish and the sea just opposite Long Island.1 Yesterday our walk was of this description-the near Hills were not very lofty but many of them steep, beautifully wooded-the distant Mountains in the Hebrides very grand, the Saltwater Lakes coming up between Crags and Islands full tide and scarcely ruffled-sometimes appearing as one large Lake, sometimes as three distinct ones in different directions. At one point we saw afar off a rocky opening into the main sea.—We have also seen an Eagle or two. They move about without the least motion of Wings when in an indolent fit.— I am for the first time in a country where a foreign Language is spoken-they gabble away Gaelic at a vast rate -numbers of them speak English. There are not many Kilts in Argyleshire-at Fort William they say a Man is not admitted into Society without one-the Ladies there have a horror at the indecency of Breeches. I cannot give you a better idea of Highland Life than by describing the place we are in. The Inn or public is by far the best house in the immediate neighbourhood. It has a white front with tolerable windows-the table I am 1 By Long Island Keats means, not of course the great chain of the Outer Hebrides so styled, but the little island of Luing, east of Scarba Sound. His account of the place from which he is writing, and its distance from Oban as specified in the paragraph added there next day, seem to identify it certainly as Kilmelfort. |