Part 14 (1/2)
[25] A recent publication shows that Greek verse is well written at the University. Paisley folk should know that an Aberdonian h.e.l.lenist has put some of Tannahill's verses into Greek.
EN ROUTE.
The little steamer that plies between Aberdeen and Lerwick is timed to leave the former port at 11.30 a.m., _or as soon afterwards as the tide will permit_. Often the boat does not leave for some hours after 11.30 a.m., the tide not being always to blame. What a capacity the boat has for empty barrels! I counted six heaped lorry-loads of them that were rolled on board, destined, later on, to be filled with herring up north among the islands.
It is extremely interesting (see Virgil III., 690) to stand in calm weather on the deck of a moving vessel and talk about the notable places on the coast with one who knows them well. Much information of a varied and piquant kind may thus be acquired. The Aberdeens.h.i.+re coast is rather unpicturesque, but many historical legends linger airily on the stern old ruins that are pa.s.sed from time to time. I omit mention of these, preferring to tell an anecdote of recent years that is a.s.sociated with the immense rocky sea-caverns, of world-wide fame, not far from Cruden Bay. During the Boer War, some Scotch journalists, strong in the science of genealogy, undertook to prove that all the generals at the front had Scotch blood in their veins. It seems that these patriotic penmen succeeded quite easily in making their contention good with respect to all the generals _save one_. No Scotch lineage could be found for General Buller. The difficulty was at last surmounted by the felicitous conjecture that he was one of the famous _Bullers of Buchan_!
About eight miles past Cruden Bay is Peterhead, the most easterly town in Britain. Great efforts are being made at present to boom this place as a health resort. I have heard it said that ”printers who die at 30 of consumption elsewhere, weigh 21 stone at over threescore in Peterhead,”
also that ”centenarians there have been known to get up at 5.30 a.m., to chop wood, no chill or bacillus daring to make them afraid.” The Home Office has long thought highly of Peterhead as a place of permanent retreat for those afflicted with ethical infirmities.
After Peterhead is left behind, the steamer soon gets entirely away from land. All night long she battles through the surges, pa.s.ses about 2 a.m.
the lonely Fair Isle, encompa.s.sed by the rus.h.i.+ng roost, and two hours later Sumburgh Head is visible. The approach to Bressay, especially if the rocks and precipices are half seen through driving haze, is suggestive, to a student, of the landscape of ”Beowulf,” with its _windy walls_, _shadow-helms_, _broad nesses_, and _glimmering sea-cliffs_.
As seen from the sea, Lerwick looks trim and picturesque, but when the visitor lands, he is apt to lose his bearings among its tortuous lanes.
I followed a porter who was tottering under the weight of trunks, and asked him, as we treaded a flag-paved vennel: ”Is it far to the main street?” He grimly replied: ”This _is_ the main street, sir.” The response unnerved me, shaky as I was with seventeen hours' tossing on the North Sea. Once in the hotel, my spirits rose. A most welcome and savoury breakfast--consumed near an open window commanding a view over a sun-lit sound--is well able to hearten the most downcast.
LERWICK.
The town of Lerwick is indeed one of the finest of our island capitals, and is constantly becoming finer. No visitor can fail to be impressed by its unique natural harbour, gloriously screened by the G.o.d-given shelter of the island of Bressay. Commercial Street, which runs along the water's edge, is at the foot of a hill, and is so narrow in parts that two vehicles can hardly get past each other. If I stayed in Lerwick, I should not like to have any resident enemies, for it would be difficult to keep from brus.h.i.+ng clothes with them in the main street. Up from this main street to the newer town, on a plateau at the top, run numerous quaint wynds, sinuous, and not always well-scavenged. This new and well-built part contains the far-seen and notable Town Hall, the architecture of which would have pleased Ruskin, especially as its fine windows are all appositely ill.u.s.trative of Shetlandic annals. By climbing the dusty clock-tower, one has a splendid view of all surrounding slopes and seas.
Here is a hint to prospective tourists. Take to the left when you quit the hall, get down the lane leading to the sea-crags, and walk for two miles in the direction of the rifle-range. It is a glorious and solitary walk--not altogether solitary, for the sea is invariably good company.
Don't be so foolish as to keep on your hat: off with it, and let the air-borne sea-spume wet your brow. It is also a good thing to recite Byron's vigorous ”Address to the Ocean,”--the odd cows you may pa.s.s will not stop their grazing for that. There is no finer air in King Edward's dominions than that which blows in this region, for the hill air meets the sea air that has come all the way from Norway, and the two coalesce to give the rapt pedestrian a mouthful of exhilarating ether. One who is really a poet and not merely a casual sonneteer, should try to get a site for his tent on this particular sh.o.r.e, and retire to compose an epoch-making epic. The mediaeval saints knew what they were doing when they retired to little nooks and isles along this coast to pray and meditate undisturbed: it is much easier to feel devout in a fresh atmosphere, than in the squalor of a town.
PAST AND PRESENT SAINTS.
What indeed astonishes the visitor to these northern isles is the immense number of ecclesiastical ruins. The Christian missionaries seem speedily to have translated their enthusiasm into stone and lime. What hymns were chanted and what sermons preached up there in bygone times, pa.s.ses the wit of man to reckon! It is a far cry from Palestine to the Shetland creeks and voes, but the voice of the lowly Nazarene effectually reached the Celts and Nors.e.m.e.n of these treeless storm-lashed isles.
Many of the smaller islands have the appellation _papa_, which indicates, as I hinted above, that some monk or hermit, withdrawing from the world to pray and meditate, has bequeathed a whiff of sanct.i.ty to headland and skerry.
”The hermit good lives in the wood,” says Coleridge, but for the Shetland _papa_ there was no _nemorum murmur_:--
No sun-illumined leaf.a.ge met his eye Raised from perusal of the Holy Word, No murmur of the woodland zephyr-stirred Blended with his devotions sped on high, Only the chiding of the billows nigh.
The clangour of the wheeling ocean-bird, Or soul-astounding shriek of storm-fiend heard From the dun cloud-battalions hurrying by, Greeted his ear: yet piously through all His life the austere anchorite remained, On his lone island, buffeted by squall And sea, and faithful unto death obtained The promised guerdon that the Lord bestows Upon the pure in heart, and only those.
It has been a.s.serted by those who have means of knowing, that the days of theological rigidity are past and gone in the Shetlands. Thing unheard of in the Hebrides--the shops are open on Sunday mornings for the sale of Sat.u.r.day's _Scotsman_ and _Herald_. In some parts of Scotland you could not hire a trap for a Sunday drive; in others, you _might_ manage, by salving the driver's conscience with a double fare.
In Shetland the tariff is the same for the first and the last days of the week. To explain the ecclesiastical differences between the islands of the North and the West would require a philosopher with all Buckle's shrewdness and ingenuity. Buckle accounted for the sombre nature of Scotch theology by dwelling on the awe-inspiring reverberations of thunder among the Highland peaks. The easy-going creed of the Shetlands might perhaps be accounted for by a reference to the happy-go-lucky way in which the sea wanders at will among the confusion of peninsulas, islets, and skerries. Any theory is better than none at all, and geopsychical explanations are fas.h.i.+onable at present.
The pulpit stars twinkle with great l.u.s.tre in these boreal regions. A country minister, with no preparatory groans, but sharp and trippingly thus began his homily some Sundays ago: ”It is now thirty-five years since the Lord sent me to labour in this part of his vineyard, if vineyard I may call it, where no grape was ever seen. On a bright summer morning thirty-five years ago, I turned the corner of the road and came among you. Young women, your mothers were in the fields, busy with the work of the crofts. Your mothers were exceedingly fair to look upon, and I am happy to say, my dear young sisters, that, by the providence of G.o.d, the beauty of your mothers has lost nothing by being transmitted to your comely selves. And now for my text, which you will find in Ezekiel, chapter _x_ and verse _y_.”
SOME NOTES ON THE ISLANDS.
A century ago Shetland was almost an unknown land to the Lowlanders of Scotland. When a Shetland minister was deputed to attend the General a.s.sembly, it might take him a year to get there and back. His journey was a very circuitous one: he had to go in a trading vessel to Hamburg, take boat from Hamburg to London, and from London proceed to Leith. To return from Edinburgh, the journey was performed the reverse way. Now that there is a regular service between Aberdeen and Lerwick, and between Leith and several of the Shetland ports, the journey can be performed with comfort and expedition. Tourists flock North in the summer season to admire the scenery, catch the trout, and inhale the health-giving breezes.
The natives, being mainly of Norse descent, look with a kindly eye over the water in the direction of Bergen. They do not love Scotland, and they have their reasons. When the Shetlands were handed over to the Scotch kings, numbers of needy adventurers, armed with cheaply-got charters, swooped down on the islands and dispossessed the native proprietors. This has neither been forgotten nor forgiven. Mr. Russell, who lived for three years among them, says:--”They believe that the present lairds are interlopers, and that they themselves have been defrauded and despoiled. They speak of these things only among themselves, and not openly; but those who have been in the country, and have gained their confidence, know that there is a strong undercurrent of feeling against Scotland and Scotsmen.... They conceive that they have a claim even as things are, to dwell on the land, and that a proprietor has no right to remove them from his estate.” I was dreadfully shocked to notice that in a volume of tales published by a Lerwick author only four years ago, the leading villain was from the mainland. ”Scotland is nothing to us,” said a Shetlander to an inspector of schools. ”What has Scotland ever done for us except send us _greedy ministers and dear meal_?”