(From the 1775 edition with the corrections noted in the 1785 errata.)
INCH KEITH
I had desired to visit the Hebrides, or Western Islands of
Scotland, so long, that I scarcely remember how the wish was
originally excited; and was in the Autumn of the year 1773 induced
to undertake the journey, by finding in Mr. Boswell a companion,
whose acuteness would help my inquiry, and whose gaiety of
conversation and civility of manners are sufficient to counteract
the inconveniences of travel, in countries less hospitable than we
have passed.
On the eighteenth of August we left Edinburgh, a city too well
known to admit description, and directed our course northward,
along the eastern coast of Scotland, accompanied the first day by
another gentleman, who could stay with us only long enough to shew
us how much we lost at separation.
As we crossed the Frith of Forth, our curiosity was attracted by
Inch Keith, a small island, which neither of my companions had ever
visited, though, lying within their view, it had all their lives
solicited their notice. Here, by climbing with some difficulty
over shattered crags, we made the first experiment of unfrequented
coasts. Inch Keith is nothing more than a rock covered with a thin
layer of earth, not wholly bare of grass, and very fertile of
thistles. A small herd of cows grazes annually upon it in the
summer. It seems never to have afforded to man or beast a
permanent habitation.
We found only the ruins of a small fort, not so injured by time but
that it might be easily restored to its former state. It seems
never to have been intended as a place of strength, nor was built
to endure a siege, but merely to afford cover to a few soldiers,
who perhaps had the charge of a battery, or were stationed to give
signals of approaching danger. There is therefore no provision of
water within the walls, though the spring is so near, that it might
have been easily enclosed. One of the stones had this inscription:
'Maria Reg. 1564.' It has probably been neglected from the time
that the whole island had the same king.
We left this little island with our thoughts employed awhile on the
different appearance that it would have made, if it had been placed
at the same distance from London, with the same facility of
approach; with what emulation of price a few rocky acres would have
been purchased, and with what expensive industry they would have
been cultivated and adorned.
When we landed, we found our chaise ready, and passed through
Kinghorn, Kirkaldy, and Cowpar, places not unlike the small or
straggling market-towns in those parts of England where commerce
and manufactures have not yet produced opulence.
Though we were yet in the most populous part of Scotland, and at so
small a distance from the capital, we met few passengers.
The roads are neither rough nor dirty; and it affords a southern
stranger a new kind of pleasure to travel so commodiously without
the interruption of toll-gates. Where the bottom is rocky, as it
seems commonly to be in Scotland, a smooth way is made indeed with
great labour, but it never wants repairs; and in those parts where
adventitious materials are necessary, the ground once consolidated
is rarely broken; for the inland commerce is not great, nor are
heavy commodities often transported otherwise than by water. The
carriages in common use are small carts, drawn each by one little
horse; and a man seems to derive some degree of dignity and
importance from the reputation of possessing a two-horse cart.
ST. ANDREWS
At an hour somewhat late we came to St. Andrews, a city once
archiepiscopal; where that university still subsists in which
philosophy was formerly taught by Buchanan, whose name has as fair
a claim to immortality as can be conferred by modern latinity, and
perhaps a fairer than the instability of vernacular languages
admits.
We found, that by the interposition of some invisible friend,
lodgings had been provided for us at the house of one of the
professors, whose easy civility quickly made us forget that we were
strangers; and in the whole time of our stay we were gratified by
every mode of kindness, and entertained with all the elegance of
lettered hospitality.
In the morning we rose to perambulate a city, which only history
shews to have once flourished, and surveyed the ruins of ancient
magnificence, of which even the ruins cannot long be visible,
unless some care be taken to preserve them; and where is the
pleasure of preserving such mournful memorials? They have been
till very lately so much neglected, that every man carried away the
stones who fancied that he wanted them.
The cathedral, of which the foundations may be still traced, and a
small part of the wall is standing, appears to have been a spacious
and majestick building, not unsuitable to the primacy of the
kingdom. Of the architecture, the poor remains can hardly exhibit,
even to an artist, a sufficient specimen. It was demolished, as is
well known, in the tumult and violence of Knox's reformation.
Not far from the cathedral, on the margin of the water, stands a
fragment of the castle, in which the archbishop anciently resided.
It was never very large, and was built with more attention to
security than pleasure. Cardinal Beatoun is said to have had
workmen employed in improving its fortifications at the time when
he was murdered by the ruffians of reformation, in the manner of
which Knox has given what he himself calls a merry narrative.
The change of religion in Scotland, eager and vehement as it was,
raised an epidemical enthusiasm, compounded of sullen
scrupulousness and warlike ferocity, which, in a people whom
idleness resigned to their own thoughts, and who, conversing only
with each other, suffered no dilution of their zeal from the
gradual influx of new opinions, was long transmitted in its full
strength from the old to the young, but by trade and intercourse
with England, is now visibly abating, and giving way too fast to
that laxity of practice and indifference of opinion, in which men,
not sufficiently instructed to find the middle point, too easily
shelter themselves from rigour and constraint.
