Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)Wordsworth, Dorothy
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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Wordsworth, Dorothy
Authors, English -- 19th century -- Diaries; Wordsworth, Dorothy, 1771-1855 -- Diaries; Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850 -- Family
The road to a considerable height is through a narrow cleft, in which a
flight of steps is hewn; the steps nearly fill the cleft, and on each
side the rocks form a high and irregular wall; it is almost like a long
sloping cavern, only that it is roofed by the sky. We came to the
barracks; soldiers' wives were hanging out linen upon the rails, while
the wind beat about them furiously--there was nothing which it could set
in motion but the garments of the women and the linen upon the rails;
the grass--for we had now come to green grass--was close and smooth, and
not one pile an inch above another, and neither tree nor shrub. The
standard pole stood erect without a flag. The rock has two summits, one
much broader and higher than the other. When we were near to the top of
the lower eminence we had the pleasure of finding a little garden of
flowers and vegetables belonging to the soldiers. There are three
distinct and very noble prospects--the first up the Clyde towards
Glasgow--Dunglass Castle, seen on its promontory--boats, sloops, hills,
and many buildings; the second, down the river to the sea--Greenock and
Port-Glasgow, and the distant mountains at the entrance of Loch Long;
and the third extensive and distant view is up the Leven, which here
falls into the Clyde, to the mountains of Loch Lomond. The distant
mountains in all these views were obscured by mists and dingy clouds,
but if the grand outline of any one of the views can be seen, it is
sufficient recompense for the trouble of climbing the rock of Dumbarton.
The soldier who was our guide told us that an old ruin which we came to
at the top of the higher eminence had been a wind-mill--an inconvenient
station, though certainly a glorious place for wind; perhaps if it
really had been a wind-mill it was only for the use of the garrison. We
looked over cannons on the battery-walls, and saw in an open field below
the yeomanry cavalry exercising, while we could hear from the town,
which was full of soldiers, "Dumbarton's drums beat bonny, O!" Yet while
we stood upon this eminence, rising up so far as it does--inland, and
having the habitual old English feeling of our own security as
islanders--we could not help looking upon the fortress, in spite of its
cannon and soldiers, and the rumours of invasion, as set up against the
hostilities of wind and weather rather than for any other warfare. On
our return we were invited into the guard-room, about half-way down the
rock, where we were shown a large rusty sword, which they called
Wallace's Sword, and a trout boxed up in a well close by, where they
said he had been confined for upwards of thirty years. For the pleasure
of the soldiers, who were anxious that we should see him, we took some
pains to spy him out in his black den, and at last succeeded. It was
pleasing to observe how much interest the poor soldiers--though
themselves probably new to the place--seemed to attach to this
antiquated inhabitant of their garrison.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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