16–22 August 1847

We woke soon after four o’clock, when getting under weigh, and were surprised to feel the yacht stop not an hour after. Something had gone wrong with the paddle-wheel—just as happened last year—and it took full two hours to set it right. Then at seven we started afresh. A beautiful morning with a very smooth sea. By half-past ten we were in sight of the Isle of Man, which is a fine island with bold hills and cliffs. A little before twelve we reached the point of the bay, on which is the town of Douglas, very prettily situated, with a picturesque castle near the lighthouse, on the extreme point of the bay. We stopped off here for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour,—the rocks were covered with people. From Douglas to Ramsay Bay the hills and cliffs are high and bold; though Ramsay itself is low. For about two hours we were out of sight of land, and I was below writing. When I came on deck at three o’clock the Scotch coast was quite close; the Mull of Galloway, and then Wigtownshire. Albert declared he saw the Irish coast, but I could not descry it. At five we came in sight of Loch Ryan, and saw, to the left, Ailsa Craig rising more than 1,000 feet perpendicularly from the sea. Loch Ryan is very fine, and the hills and glens are lovely, particularly little Glen Finnart. The loch is very large, and the hills here are very high and wooded. The little town is called Stranraer.

At six o’clock we began to move. A beautiful morning. At about eight we were close to the Ailsa Rock or Craig, the formation of which is very curious. There were thousands and thousands of birds,—gannets,—on the rock, and we fired a gun off three times in order to bring them in reach of a shot—Albert and Charles tried, but in vain. We next came in sight of the beautiful Isle of Arran. The finest point is when you are before the Holy Island, and in sight of the Goatfell range of mountains. The highest is about 2,800 feet; they are peculiarly fine from their bold pointed outlines. Before them is Lamlash. After passing Holy Island we came to Brodick Bay, which is beautiful, with high hills and a glen; in front of which, and surrounded by wood, is the castle which Lord Douglas is building. Not long after this we came in sight of the Isle of Bute, and entered the Clyde, the view of which from Mr. Stuart’s and Lord Bute’s property is beautiful: high wooded banks, the river opening out and widening, surrounded by the distant mountains. A small place to the right called Largs is very prettily situated. At half-past twelve we reached Greenock, the port of Glasgow. The shore and the ships were crowded with people, there being no less (as I since learnt) than thirty-nine steamers, over-filled with people, which almost all followed us! Such a thing never was seen. Add to these steamers boats and ships of all descriptions, moving in all directions; but not getting out of the way! We, however, got safe on board the “Fairy,” and steamed up the Clyde; it was hazy, and we could not see the distance well. We passed the small town of Port Glasgow, and about one o’clock were at Dumbarton Castle. Its situation is very fine, the rock rising straight out of the river, the mountains all round, and the town of Dumbarton behind it, making it very picturesque. We landed just below the Castle, and went with Charles and the children in a carriage to the fort. There was a great crowd, but excellent order kept. We went to the battery, but had to mount many steps to get to it. Wallace was confined here; and it was one of the last castles which held out for Mary Queen of Scots. From the battery there is a very extensive view of the Clyde and Dumbarton, and we ought to have been able to see Ben Lomond; but it was in mist. We got back to the “Fairy” by half-past two, and returned to Greenock, escorted by nineteen steamers. Steamed past Greenock, and went on towards Loch Long, passing Roseneath to the right, where the present Duke and Duchess of Argyll live. Loch Long is indeed splendid, 15 miles in length, surrounded by grand hills, with such beautiful outlines, and very green—all so different from the eastern part of Scotland—the loch winding along most beautifully, so as to seem closed at times. Charles said it reminded him of Switzerland and the Tyrol. The finest point of Loch Long is looking towards Loch Goil. We had a very good sight of the mountain called The Cobbler; the top of which resembles a man sitting and mending his shoe! At the end of the loch we got a glimpse of Ben Lomond, and were, in fact, very near Loch Lomond. We returned as we came. There was no sun, and once or twice a little mist; but still it was beautiful. We went on to Rothsay, which we reached at eight o’clock, and immediately went on board the “Victoria and Albert,” greatly tired but much amused and interested. The children enjoy everything extremely, and bear the novelty and excitement wonderfully. The people cheered the “Duke of Rothsay” very much, and also called for a cheer for the “Princess of Great Britain.” Everywhere the good Highlanders are very enthusiastic. Rothsay is a pretty little town, built round a fine bay, with hills in the distance, and a fine harbour. When we went on deck after dinner, we found the whole town brilliantly illuminated, with every window lit up, which had a very pretty effect.

A bright fresh morning, the hills slightly tipped with clouds. At eight o’clock we all went on board the “Fairy,” and went up the Kyles of Bute, which, as you advance, become very fine, the hills lying so curiously one behind the other, sometimes apparently closing up all outlet. We saw Arran to the left, looking very grand in the distance. We have been turning about a good deal since yesterday, for we went by Arran and Holy Island, and then left Little and Great Cumbray to our left, and went up to Dumbarton and back, and on to Loch Long, and then to Rothsay, leaving Arran to our left; then, after passing Arran, we entered Loch Fyne. I, however, had a headache, and was obliged to lie down below, and only came on deck again when we were within an hour of Inverary; where the lake widens, and the hills on either side are very green and undulating, but not very high. The approach to Inverary is splendid; the loch is very wide; straight before you a fine range of mountains splendidly lit up,—green, pink, and lilac; to the left the little town of Inverary; and above it, surrounded by pine woods, stands the Castle of Inverary, square, with turrets at the corners. Our reception was in the true Highland fashion. The Duke and Duchess of Argyll (dear Lady Elizabeth Leveson Gower), the Duchess of Sutherland, Lord Stafford, Lady Caroline Leveson Gower, and the Blantyres received us at the landing-place, which was all ornamented with heather. The Celtic Society, including Campbell of Islay, his two sons (one grown up and the other a very pretty little boy), with a number of his men, and several other Campbells, were all drawn up near to the carriage. We got into a carriage with the two Duchesses, Charles and the Duke being on the box (we had left the children on board the “Fairy”), and took a beautiful drive amongst magnificent trees, and along a glen where we saw Ben Sheerar, &c. The weather was particularly fine, and we were much struck by the extreme beauty of Inverary—presenting as it does such a combination of magnificent timber, with high mountains, and a noble lake. The pipers walked before the carriage, and the Highlanders on either side, as we approached the house. Outside stood the Marquis of Lorn, just two years old, a dear, white, fat, fair little fellow with reddish hair, but very delicate features, like both his father and mother: he is such a merry, independent little child. He had a black velvet dress and jacket, with a “sporran,” scarf, and Highland bonnet. We lunched at two with our hosts; the Highland gentlemen standing with halberds in the room. We sent for our children, who arrived during luncheon time. We left Inverary before three, and took the children with us in the carriage. The Argylls, the Duchess of Sutherland, and the others, accompanied us on board the “Fairy,” where we took leave of them. The light on the hills was beautiful as we steamed down Loch Fyne. At five we reached Lochgilp, and all landed at Lochgilphead, a small village where there were numbers of people, and, amongst others, Sir John P. Orde, who lent his carriage and was extremely civil. We and our people drove through the little village to the Crinan Canal, where we entered a most magnificently decorated barge, drawn by three horses, ridden by postilions in scarlet. We glided along very smoothly, and the views of the hills—the range of Cruachan—were very fine indeed; but the eleven locks we had to go through—(a very curious process, first passing several by rising, and then others by going down)—were tedious, and instead of the passage lasting one hour-and-a-half, it lasted upwards of two hours and a half, therefore it was nearly eight o’clock before we reached Loch Crinan. We instantly went on board the “Victoria and Albert,” but it was too late to proceed to Oban; we had, therefore, to lengthen our voyage by a day, and spent the night at Crinan. It is a very fine spot, hills all round, and, in the distance, those of the island of Jura. The yacht had had a good passage round the Mull of Cantire. We dined with Charles, and went on deck; and the blaze of the numerous bonfires—the half moon, the stars, and the extreme stillness of the night—had a charming effect.

A beautiful day. At nine o’clock we left Crinan, proceeding to the right, up splendid passes, with myriads of islands, and such enchanting views, that I cannot enumerate them. We passed first up the Sound of Jura, where numbers of people met us in small boats, decorated with little flags; then up the Pass of Kerrera to Oban, one of the finest spots we have seen, with the ruins of the old Castle of Dunolly and a range of high mountains in the distance. To the left, after leaving Oban, we saw the Isle of Kerrera, and to the right Dunstaffnage Castle, whence came the famous stone which supports the “Coronation Chair,” in which the sovereigns are crowned at Westminster Abbey. Alexander II. is said to be buried here. We passed close by the flat rock, called The Lady’s Rock, on which a McLean left his wife, hoping she would be washed away—she was saved however. At three we anchored close before Staffa, and immediately got into the barge with Charles, the children, and the rest of our people, and rowed towards the cave. As we rounded the point, the wonderful basaltic formation came in sight. The appearance it presents is most extraordinary; and when we turned the corner to go into the renowned Fingal’s Cave, the effect was splendid, like a great entrance into a vaulted hall: it looked almost awful as we entered, and the barge heaved up and down on the swell of the sea. It is very high, but not longer than 227 feet, and narrower than I expected, being only 40 feet wide. The sea is immensely deep in the cave. The rocks, under water, were all colours—pink, blue, and green—which had a most beautiful and varied effect. It was the first time the British standard with a Queen of Great Britain, and her husband and children, had ever entered Fingal’s Cave, and the men gave three cheers, which sounded very impressive there. We backed out, and then went on a little further to look at the other cave, not of basaltic formation, and at the point called The Herdsman. The swell was beginning to get up, and perhaps an hour later we could not have gone in. We returned to the yacht, but Albert and Charles landed again at Staffa. They returned in three-quarters of an hour, and we then went on to Iona; here Albert and Charles landed, and were absent an hour. I and the ladies sketched. We saw from the yacht the ruins of the old cathedral of St. Oran. When Albert and Charles returned, they said the ruins were very curious, there had been two monasteries there, and fine old crosses and tombs of ancient kings were still to be seen. I must see it some other time. On Albert’s return we went on again, and reached Tobermory at nine. The place was all illuminated.

A wet morning when we rose at half-past seven, and it was pouring with rain when we left Tobermory at half-past eight. I went down, and drew and painted. It cleared up about half-past ten, and I came on deck. The scenery in Loch Linnhe was magnificent—such beautiful mountains. From Loch Linnhe we entered Loch Eil, and passed the entrance of Loch Leven to the right, at the end of which is Glencoe, so famous for its beautiful scenery and for the horrible massacre of the Macdonalds, in William III.’s time. A little before one we arrived at Fort William, a very small place. The afternoon was very bright, and the scenery fine. After luncheon Albert and Charles set off in the “Fairy” to see Glencoe. They returned at twenty minutes past seven, and Albert thought Glencoe was very fine, though not quite as much so as he had expected. They had driven in an extraordinary carriage, with seats for thirty. The people, who recognized Albert, were so loyal that they took the horses out and insisted on drawing the carriage. The evening was excessively cold and showery. I am quite sorry we shall have to leave our yacht to-morrow, in which we have been so comfortably housed, and that this delightful voyage and tour among the Western Lochs and Isles is at an end—they are so beautiful,—and so full of poetry and romance, traditions, and historical associations.

Alas! a very wet morning. We were ready long before nine o’clock, but had to wait, as our carriages were not ready. At last we all landed at Fort William, where there was a great gathering of Highlanders, in their different tartans, with Lord Lovat and Mr. Stuart Mackenzie at their head. We got into our carriage with Charles and the two children; there was a great crowd to see us off. We went by a very wild and lonely road, the latter part extremely fine, with mountains and streams that reminded us of Glen Tilt. We changed horses only once, and came at length in sight of Loch Laggan. It is a beautiful lake (small in comparison to what we have seen) surrounded by very fine mountains: the road by its side is extremely pretty. We saw Lord Abercorn’s house of Ardverikie long before we came to it. At Laggan there is only a small inn, and at the end of the lake, a ferry. Here, in spite of the pouring rain, were assembled a number of Highlanders, with Macpherson of Cluny (always called Cluny Macpherson) and three dear little boys of his, Davidson of Tulloch, and others, with Lord Abercorn, in full Highland dress. We stepped out of our carriage and stood upon the floating bridge, and so crossed over in two or three minutes. We then drove on, in our pony carriages, to Ardverikie, and arrived there in about twenty minutes. It is quite close to the lake, and the view from the windows, as I now write, though obscured by rain, is very beautiful, and extremely wild. There is not a village, house, or cottage within four or five miles: one can only get to it by the ferry, or by rowing across the lake. The house is a comfortable shooting-lodge, built of stone, with many nice rooms in it. Stags’ horns are placed along the outside and in the passages; and the walls of the drawing-room and ante-room are ornamented with beautiful drawings of stags, by Landseer. There is little to say of our stay at Ardverikie; the country is very fine, but the weather was most dreadful. On the 28th, about five o’clock, Albert drove me out across the ferry, along the Kingussie road, and from here the scenery was splendid: high bold hills, with a good deal of wood; glens, with the Pattock, and a small waterfall; the meadows here and there, with people making hay, and cottages sprinkled sparingly about, reminded us much of Thüringen. We drove to the small farm, where Colonel Macpherson now lives, called Strathmashie, and back again, 16 miles in all. We were delighted with the scenery, which is singularly beautiful, wild and romantic,—with so much fine wood about it, which greatly enhances the beauty of a landscape.