Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland : $b or, The traditional history of Cromarty — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland : $b or, The traditional history of Cromarty
John Stuart Mill · en
The domestic economy of the people, who still continue to inhabit
the town, differed considerably from what it had been when their
circumstances were more prosperous. There was now no just division of
labour among them--working people of all the different denominations
encroaching each on the bounds of the others’ profession. Fishermen
wrought as labourers, tradesfolk as fishermen, and both as farmers.
In the latter part of spring every year, and the two first months of
summer, the town’s-people spent their evenings in angling with rods and
hand-lines in their boats, or from the rocks at the entrance of the
bay; towards the end of July they formed themselves into parties of
eight or ten, and sailed to Tarbat Ness, a fishing station of the Moray
Firth, where they remained for several weeks catching and storing up
fish for winter. At night they converted their sails into tents, ranged
in the manner of an encampment, at the edge of the little bay where
they moored their boats.
The long low promontory of Tarbat Ness forms the north-eastern
extremity of Ross-shire. Etymologists derive its name from the practice
which prevailed among mariners in this country during the infancy
of navigation, of drawing their light shallops across the necks of
such promontories instead of sailing round them. On a moor of this
headland there may be traced the vestiges of an encampment, which
some have deemed Roman, and others Danish; and there is a cave among
the low rocks by which it is skirted, which, according to tradition,
communicates with another cave on the coast of Caithness. The scenery
of Tarbat Ness is of that character which Addison regarded as the
most sublime; but it has something more to recommend it than a mere
expansiveness, like that predicated by the poet, in which no object,
tree, house, or mountain, contracts the view of the vast arch of
heaven or the huge circle of earth. Instead of a low plain bounded by
the sky, there is here a wide expanse of ocean encircling a narrow
headland--brown, sterile, solitary, edged with rock, and studded with
fragments of stone. On the one hand, the mountains of Sutherland
are seen rising out of the sea like a volume of blue clouds; on the
other, at a still greater distance, the hills of Moray stretch along
the horizon in a long undulating strip, so faintly defined in the
outline that they seem almost to mingle with the firmament. Instead,
however, of contracting the prospect, they serve but to enhance, by
their diminished bulk, the immense space in which they are included.
Space--wide, interminable space--in which he who contemplates it finds
himself lost, and is oppressed by a sense of his own littleness, is
at all times the circumstance to which the prospect owes most of its
power; but it is only during the storms of winter, when the firmament
in all its vastness seems converted into a hall of the tempest, and
the earth in all its extent into a gymnasium for contending elements,