Professional Documents
Culture Documents
vii
contents
Index 1821
viii
DETAILED CONTENTS
Volume I
Preface lxxiii
Table of abbreviations lxxv
Table of cases lxxxi
Table of legislation xcv
CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION
A. Scope of this book 1.001
B. The European Union
Introduction 1.003
Evolution of the European Union 1.004
The EU is the world’s largest economic bloc 1.008
Population 1.010
The internal market 1.011
Transport in the EU 1.013
Future of the EU 1.015
C. Shipping in the EU 1.016
Introduction 1.016
Strategic significance of shipping for the EU 1.017
Shipping has an important role in the EU’s global and internal trading
activities 1.019
Shipping is an important employer in the EU 1.021
Shipping is an important earner of foreign currency and an
indispensable part of the EU’s ability to trade globally 1.022
Open/non-protectionist policy 1.023
Internal balances 1.024
Multidimensional nature of EU shipping law and policy 1.025
Social dimension to EU shipping policy 1.026
Safety dimension to EU shipping policy 1.027
Environmental dimension to EU shipping policy 1.028
Competition dimension to EU shipping policy 1.029
International dimension to EU shipping policy 1.030
Divergent influences on the development of EU shipping policy? 1.031
Staggered or strategic development of EU shipping policy? 1.036
Should the EU have a role in shipping? 1.037
Introduction 1.037
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xi
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detailed contents
Text 4.057
Commentary 4.058
Article 100 of the TFEU 4.060
Text 4.060
Commentary 4.061
C. Secondary legislation 4.071
D. European Economic Area (“EEA”) 4.072
E. Conclusions 4.073
xiv
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xv
detailed contents
xvi
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xvii
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Portugal 7.056
Spain 7.057
Sweden 7.058
States which did not have cabotage restrictions in more recent times 7.059
Belgium 7.059
Ireland 7.060
United Kingdom 7.061
States which had limited cabotage restrictions 7.062
Denmark 7.062
States which had no cabotage restrictions or issues 7.063
Development of the EU law on cabotage 7.064
1974: Commission v France 7.064
1984: European Parliamentary Question 7.065
1985: Communication from the Commission to the Council 7.066
1986: December package 7.067
1988: Commission Programme 7.068
1989: Positive Measures Programme 7.069
Council Regulation (EEC) 3577/92 of 7 December 1992 applying the
principle of freedom to maritime transport within Member States
(maritime cabotage) 7.071
Introduction 7.071
Key concepts in Regulation 3577/92 7.072
The benefits of cabotage 7.078
Legal bases of Regulation 3577/92 7.079
Beneficiaries of Regulation 3577/92 7.080
EU Member States generally 7.080
Vessels registered on the EUROS Register 7.081
Implementation of Regulation 3577/92 7.082
Introduction 7.082
General principle 7.083
Mediterranean 7.085
Suspensory effect of Regulation 3577/92 7.086
Operation of Regulation 3577/92 7.088
Public service obligations and Regulation 3577/92 7.090
Introduction 7.090
Crewing or manning of vessels engaged in cabotage 7.094
Mainland cabotage 7.094
Island cabotage 7.095
Cruise liners 7.098
Serious disturbances in the market and Regulation 3577/92 7.099
Introduction 7.099
Definition of “a serious disturbance of the internal transport market” 7.100
Member State’s request to the Commission to adopt safeguard
measures in the event of “a serious disturbance of the internal
transport market” 7.101
Temporary provision of cabotage services 7.105
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further than that every one is bound by the ten commandments, to
say nothing of his own conscience, to take a part in the afflictions
that befall their door-neighbours.
When the voice of man was whisht, and all was sunk in the sound
sleep of midnight, it chanced that I was busy dreaming that I was
sitting, one of the spectators, looking at another playacting business.
Before coming this length, howsoever, I should by right have
observed, that ere going to bed I had eaten for my supper part of a
black pudding and two sausages, that widow Grassie had sent in a
compliment to my wife, being a genteel woman, and mindful of her
friends—so that I must have had some sort of nightmare, and not
been exactly in my seven senses, else I could not have been even
dreaming of siccan a place. Well, as I was saying, in the play-house I
thought I was; and all at once I heard Maister Wiggie, like one crying
in the wilderness, hallooing with a loud voice through the window,
bidding me flee from the snares, traps, and gin-nets of the Evil One,
and from the terrors of the wrath to come. I was in a terrible funk;
and just as I was trying to rise from the seat, that seemed somehow
glued to my body and would not let me, to reach down my hat,
which, with its glazed cover, was hanging on a pin to one side, my
face all red, and glowing like a fiery furnace, for shame of being a
second time caught in deadly sin, I heard the kirk-bell jow-jowing, as
if it was the last trump summoning sinners to their long and black
account; and Maister Wiggie thrust in his arm in his desperation, in
a whirlwind of passion, claughting hold of my hand like a vice, to
drag me out head foremost. Even in my sleep, howsoever, it appears
that I like free-will, and ken that there are no slaves in our blessed
country; so I tried with all my might to pull against him, and gave his
arm such a drive back, that he seemed to bleach over on his side, and
raised a hullaballoo of a yell, that not only wakened me, but made me
start upright in my bed.
For all the world such a scene! My wife was roaring “Murder,
murder!—Mansie Wauch, will ye no wauken?—Murder, murder!
ye’ve felled me wi’ your nieve,—ye’ve felled me outright,—I’m gone
for evermair,—my hale teeth are doun my throat. Will ye no wauken,
Mansie Wauch?—will ye no wauken?—Murder, murder!—I say
murder, murder, murder, murder!”
“Who’s murdering us?” cried I, throwing my cowl back on the
pillow, and rubbing my eyes in the hurry of a tremendous fright.
—“Wha’s murdering us?—where’s the robbers?—send for the town
officer!”
“O Mansie!—O Mansie!” said Nanse, in a kind of greeting tone, “I
daursay ye’ve felled me—but no matter, now I’ve gotten ye roused.
Do ye no see the hale street in a bleeze of flames? Bad is the best; we
maun either be burned to death, or out of house and hall, without a
rag to cover our nakedness. Where’s my son?—where’s my dear
bairn, Benjie?”
In a most awful consternation, I jumped at this out to the middle
of the floor, hearing the causeway all in an uproar of voices; and
seeing the flichtering of the flames glancing on the houses in the
opposite side of the street, all the windows of which were filled with
the heads of half-naked folks in round-eared mutches or
Kilmarnocks, their mouths open, and their eyes staring with fright;
while the sound of the fire-engine, rattling through the streets like
thunder, seemed like the dead cart of the plague come to hurry away
the corpses of the deceased for interment in the kirkyard.
Never such a spectacle was witnessed in this world of sin and
sorrow since the creation of Adam. I pulled up the window and
looked out; and, lo and behold! the very next house to our own was
all in a lowe from cellar to garret; the burning joists hissing and
cracking like mad; and the very wind blew along as warm as if it had
been out of the mouth of a baker’s oven!
It was a most awful spectacle! more by token to me, who was likely
to be intimately concerned with it; and beating my brow with my
clenched nieve like a distracted creature, I saw that the labour of my
whole life was likely to go for nought, and me to be a ruined man; all
the earnings of my industry being laid out on my stock-in-trade, and
on the plenishing of our bit house. The darkness of the latter days
came over my spirit like a vision before the prophet Isaiah; and I
could see nothing in the years to come but beggary and starvation;
myself a fallen old man, with an out-at-the-elbows coat, a greasy hat,
and a bald pow, hirpling over a staff, requeeshting an awmous;
Nanse a broken-hearted beggar wife, torn down to tatters, and
weeping like Rachel when she thought on better days; and poor wee
Benjie going from door to door with a meal-pock on his back.
The thought first dung me stupid, and then drove me to
desperation; and not even minding the dear wife of my bosom, that
had fainted away as dead as a herring, I pulled on my trowsers like
mad, and rushed out into the street, bareheaded and barefoot as the
day that Lucky Bringthereout dragged me into the world.
The crowd saw in the twinkling of an eyeball that I was a desperate
man, fierce as Sir William Wallace, and not to be withstood by gentle
or simple. So most of them made way for me; they that tried to stop
me finding it a bad job, being heeled over from right to left, on the
broad of their backs, like flounders, without respect of age or person;
some old women that were obstrepulous being gey sore hurt, and one
of them has a pain in her hainch even to this day. When I had got
almost to the doorcheek of the burning house, I found one grupping
me by the back like grim death; and in looking over my shoulder,
who was it but Nanse herself, that, rising up from her faint, had
pursued me like a whirlwind. It was a heavy trial, but my duty to
myself in the first place, and to my neighbours in the second, roused
me up to withstand it; so, making a spend like a greyhound, I left the
hindside of my shirt in her grasp, like Joseph’s garment in the nieve
of Potiphar’s wife, and up the stairs head-foremost among the
flames.
Mercy keep us all! what a sight for mortal man to glower at with
his living eyes! The bells were tolling amid the dark, like a summons
from above for the parish of Dalkeith to pack off to another world;
the drums were beat-beating as if the French were coming, thousand
on thousand, to kill, slay, and devour every maid and mother’s son of
us; the fire-engine pump-pump-pumping like daft, showering the
water like rainbows, as if the windows of heaven were opened, and
the days of old Noah come back again; and the rabble throwing the
good furniture over the windows like onion peelings, where it either
felled the folk below, or was dung to a thousand shivers on the
causey. I cried to them for the love of goodness to make search in the
beds, in case there might be any weans there, human life being still
more precious than human means; but not a living soul was seen but
a cat, which, being raised and wild with the din, would on no
consideration allow itself to be catched. Jacob Dribble found that to
his cost; for right or wrong, having a drappie in his head, he swore
like a trooper that he would catch her, and carry her down beneath
his oxter; so forward he weired her into a corner, crouching on his
hunkers. He had much better have let it alone; for it fuffed over his
shoulder like wildfire, and, scarting his back all the way down,
jumped like a lamplighter head-foremost through the flames, where,
in the raging and roaring of the devouring element, its pitiful cries
were soon hushed to silence for ever and ever.
At long and last, a woman’s howl was heard on the street,
lamenting, like Hagar over young Ishmael in the wilderness of
Beersheba, and crying that her old grannie, that was a lameter, and
had been bedridden for four years come the Martinmas following,
was burning to a cinder in the fore-garret. My heart was like to burst
within me when I heard this dismal news, remembering that I myself
had once an old mother, that was now in the mools; so I brushed up
the stair like a hatter, and burst open the door of the fore-garret—for
in the hurry I could not find the sneck, and did not like to stand on
ceremony. I could not see my finger before me, and did not know my
right hand from the left, for the smoke; but I groped round and
round, though the reek mostly cut my breath, and made me cough at
no allowance, till at last I catched hold of something cold and
clammy, which I gave a pull, not knowing what it was, but found out
to be the old wife’s nose. I cried out as loud as I was able for the poor
creature to hoise herself up into my arms; but, receiving no answer, I
discovered in a moment that she was suffocated, the foul air having
gone down her wrong hause; and, though I had aye a terror at
looking at, far less handling, a dead corpse, there was something
brave within me at the moment, my blood being up; so I caught hold
of her by the shoulders, and hurling her with all my might out of her
bed, got her lifted on my back heads and thraws in the manner of a
boll of meal, and away as fast as my legs could carry me.
There was a providence in this haste; for ere I was half-way down
the stair, the floor fell with a thud like thunder; and such a
combustion of soot, stour, and sparks arose, as was never seen or
heard tell of in the memory of man since the day that Samson pulled
over the pillars in the house of Dagon, and smoored all the mocking
Philistines as flat as flounders. For the space of a minute I was as
blind as a beetle, and was like to be choked for want of breath;
however, as the dust began to clear up, I saw an open window, and
hallooed down to the crowd for the sake of mercy to bring a ladder,
to save the lives of two perishing fellow-creatures, for now my own
was also in imminent jeopardy. They were long of coming, and I did
not know what to do; so thinking that the old wife, as she had not
spoken, was maybe dead already, I was once determined just to let
her drop down upon the street, but I knew that the so doing would
have cracked every bone in her body, and the glory of my bravery
would thus have been worse than lost. I persevered, therefore,
though I was ready to fall down under the dead weight, she not being
able to help herself, and having a deal of beef in her skin for an old
woman of eighty; but I got a lean, by squeezing her a wee between
me and the wall.
I thought they would never have come, for my shoeless feet were
all bruised and bleeding from the crunched lime and the splinters of
broken stones; but, at long and last, a ladder was hoisted up, and
having fastened a kinch of ropes beneath her oxters, I let her slide
down over the upper step, by way of a pillyshee, having the
satisfaction of seeing her safely landed in the arms of seven old
wives, that were waiting with a cosey warm blanket below. Having
accomplished this grand manœuvre, wherein I succeeded in saving
the precious life of a woman of eighty, that had been four long years
bedridden, I tripped down the steps myself like a nine-year-old, and
had the pleasure, when the roof fell in, to know that I for one had
done my duty; and that, to the best of my knowledge, no living
creature, except the poor cat, had perished within the jaws of the
devouring element.
But bide a wee; the work was, as yet, only half done. The fire was
still roaring and raging, every puff of wind that blew through the
black firmament driving the red sparks high into the air, where they
died away like the tail of a comet, or the train of a sky-rocket; the
joisting crazing, cracking, and tumbling down; and now and then the
bursting cans playing flee in a hundred flinders from the chimney-
heads. One would have naturally enough thought that our engine
could have drowned out a fire of any kind whatsoever in half a
second, scores of folks driving about with pitcherfuls of water, and
scaling half of it on one another and the causey in their hurry; but,
woe’s me! it did not play puh on the red-het stones that whizzed like
iron in a smiddy trough; so, as soon as it was darkness and smoke in
one place, it was fire and fury in another.
My anxiety was great. Seeing that I had done my best for my
neighbours, it behoved me now, in my turn, to try and see what I
could do for myself; so, notwithstanding the remonstrances of my
friend James Batter—whom Nanse, knowing I had bare feet, had sent
out to seek me, with a pair of shoon in his hand, and who, in
scratching his head, mostly rugged out every hair of his wig with
sheer vexation—I ran off, and mounted the ladder a second time, and
succeeded, after muckle speeling, in getting upon the top of the wall;
where, having a bucket slung up to me by means of a rope, I swashed
down such showers on the top of the flames, that I soon did more
good, in the space of five minutes, than the engine and the ten men,
that were all in a broth of perspiration with pumping it, did the
whole night over; to say nothing of the multitude of drawers of water,
men, wives, and weans, with their cuddies, leglins, pitchers, pails,
and water-stoups; having the satisfaction, in a short time, to observe
everything getting as black as the crown of my hat, and the gable of
my own house becoming as cool as a cucumber.
Being a man of method, and acquainted with business, I could
have liked to have given a finishing stitch to my work before
descending the ladder; but, losh me! sic a whingeing, girning,
greeting, and roaring got up all of a sudden, as was never seen or
heard of since Bowed Joseph[23] raised the mealmob, and burned
Johnnie Wilkes in effigy, and, looking down, I saw Benjie, the bairn
of my own heart, and the callant Glen, my apprentice on trial, that
had both been as sound as tops till this blessed moment, standing in
their nightgowns and their little red cowls, rubbing their eyes,
cowering with cold and fright, and making an awful uproar, crying
on me to come down and not be killed. The voice of Benjie especially
pierced through and through my heart, like a two-edged sword, and I
could on no manner of account suffer myself to bear it any longer, as
I jaloused the bairn would have gone into convulsion fits if I had not
heeded him; so, making a sign to them to be quiet, I came my ways
down, taking hold of one in ilka hand, which must have been a
fatherly sight to the spectators that saw us. After waiting on the
crown of the causey for half-an-hour, to make sure that the fire was
extinguished, and all tight and right, I saw the crowd scaling, and
thought it best to go in too, carrying the two youngsters along with
me. When I began to move off, however, siccan a cheering of the
multitude got up as would have deafened a cannon; and, though I say
it myself, who should not say it, they seemed struck with a sore
amazement at my heroic behaviour, following me with loud cheers,
even to the threshold of my own door.
23. A noted Edinburgh character.
From this folk should condescend to take a lesson, seeing that,
though the world is a bitter bad world, yet that good deeds are not
only a reward to themselves, but call forth the applause of Jew and
Gentile; for the sweet savour of my conduct, on this memorable
night, remained in my nostrils for goodness knows the length of
time, many praising my brave humanity in public companies and
assemblies of the people, such as strawberry ploys, council meetings,
dinner parties, and so forth; and many in private conversation at
their own ingle-cheek, by way of two-handed crack; in stage-coach
confab, and in causey talk in the forenoon, before going in to take
their meridians. Indeed, between friends, the business proved in the
upshot of no small advantage to me, bringing to me a sowd of strange
faces, by way of customers, both gentle and simple, that I verily
believe had not so muckle as ever heard of my name before, and
giving me many a coat to cut, and cloth to shape, that, but for my
gallant behaviour on the fearsome night aforesaid, would doubtless
have been cut, sewed, and shaped by other hands. Indeed,
considering the great noise the thing made in the world, it is no
wonder that every one was anxious to have a garment of wearing
apparel made by the individual same hands that had succeeded,
under Providence, in saving the precious life of an old woman of
eighty, that had been bedridden, some say, four years come Yule, and
others, come Martinmas.
When we got to the ingle-side, and, barring the door, saw that all
was safe, it was now three in the morning; so we thought it by much
the best way of managing, not to think of sleeping any more, but to
be on the look-out—as we aye used to be when walking sentry in the
volunteers—in case the flames should, by ony mischancy accident or
other, happen to break out again. My wife blamed my hardihood
muckle, and the rashness with which I had ventured at once to places
where even masons and slaters were afraid to put foot on; yet I saw,
in the interim, that she looked on me with a prouder eye—knowing
herself the helpmate of one that had courageously risked his neck,
and every bone in his skin, in the cause of humanity. I saw this as
plain as a pikestaff, as, with one of her kindest looks, she insisted on
my putting on a better happing to screen me from the cold, and on
my taking something comfortable inwardly towards the dispelling of
bad consequences. So, after half a minute’s stand-out, by way of
refusal like, I agreed to a cupful of het-pint, as I thought it would be a
thing Mungo Glen might never have had the good fortune to have
tasted, and as it might operate by way of a cordial on the gallant
Benjie, who kept aye smally and in a dwining way. No sooner said
than done, and off Nanse brushed in a couple of hurries to make the
het-pint.
After the small beer was put into the pan to boil, we found, to our
great mortification, that there was no eggs in the house, and Benjie
was sent out with a candle to the hen-house, to see if any of the hens
had laid since gloaming, and fetch what he could get. In the middle
of the meantime, I was expatiating to Mungo on what taste it would
have, and how he had never seen anything finer than it would be,
when in ran Benjie, all out of breath, and his face as pale as a dish-
clout.
“What’s the matter, Benjie, what’s the matter?” said I to him,
rising up from my chair in a great hurry of a fright. “Has onybody
killed ye? or is the fire broken out again? or has the French landed?
or have ye seen a ghost? or are”—
“Eh, crifty!” cried Benjie, coming till his speech, “they’re a’ aff—
cock and hens and a’; there’s naething left but the rotten nest-egg in
the corner!”
This was an awful dispensation. In the midst of the desolation of
the fire—such is the depravity of human nature—some ne’er-do-
weels had taken advantage of my absence to break open the hen-
house door; and our whole stock of poultry, the cock along with our
seven hens—two of them tappit, and one muffled—were carried away
bodily, stoop and roop.
On this subject, howsoever, I shall say no more, but merely
observe in conclusion, that, as to our het-pint, we were obliged to
make the best of a bad bargain, making up with whisky what it
wanted in eggs; though our banquet could not be called altogether a
merry one, the joys of our escape from the horrors of the fire being
damped, as it were by a wet blanket, on account of the nefarious
pillaging of our hen-house.
ROSE JAMIESON.
which garb, and which bonnet, had been familiar to the frequenters
of “tent preachings” for the greater part of forty years. Such was the
father of Rose Jamieson, the beautiful, the meek, the modest Rose
Jamieson, whose fame extended for many a mile round her father’s
dwelling; and whose fortune perhaps lent her an additional charm in
the eyes of the less worthy of her suitors. Beautiful women have been
so often described by master-spirits, that it would be presumptuous
in me to attempt it. I entreat the reader, therefore, to place before his
mind’s eye Milton’s Eve, or Thomson’s Lavinia, or Campbell’s
Gertrude, or some of the still more glorious creations of Scott or
Shakspeare; ’twill serve my purpose a thousand times better, and
save me a world of trouble. Having thus briefly disposed of her bodily
and mental attractions, it is needless to add that she was sought in
marriage by the flower of the peasantry, and even by many above
that rank in life, but shrunk from their society, as the sensitive plant
shrinks from the human touch, or the sunflower when its idol
withdraws to his ocean bed.
Her pursuits were of an intellectual nature. She loved literature
immensely; and though her parent was sufficiently rigid and
unbending in general, relative to what he designated the “vanities,”
yet he gladly supplied her with the means of gratifying her taste for
books, and even condescended at intervals to direct her in the choice
of their “mute friends;” but his selections generally consisted of those
tremendous folios of divinity, both doctrinal and controversial,
which even yet may be seen on the shelves of our more
unsophisticated peasantry; and her masculine mind was not slow in
making herself mistress of their voluminous contents.
By a careful perusal, however, of the immaculate Volume which
the great Founder of Christianity left as a guide to His followers, she
perceived that her father’s favourite authors did not always resemble
their Divine Master in the milder virtues—such as charity, which
thinketh no evil; brotherly kindness, which is ever and anon ready to
bear with an erring being; and that humility of spirit which is ever
ready to esteem another better than one’s self. As her mind got
emancipated from the thraldom of the austere dogmas which had
been inculcated on it from infancy, she saw a very great deal to
admire, nay, to love, in the doctrines of those very persons whom her
father had branded with the name of “prelatists” and “malignants;”
and hence she began to examine more closely into the merits of the
controversy which raged with so much violence between persons
worshipping the same God, through the mediation of the same
Redeemer.
The result was, that she saw much to praise and much to blame on
both sides, and she endeavoured to cover the failings of either party
with the mantle of Christian love. That many of the Episcopalian
clergy of that unhappy period, when the lieges were forced to attend
the parish church at the point of the bayonet, disgraced their sacred
profession, and brought obloquy on the holy name by which they
were called, can neither be denied nor disputed. That some of them
acted like incarnations of the devil, will not be controverted even in
our own times, when truth, like the meridian sun, has dissipated the
clouds of error and prejudice; but it is equally true, that there were
men among them who adorned their profession by a walk and
conversation becoming the Gospel, and who lamented in secret the
evils which their circumscribed influence could not avert. Who does
not revere the memory of the great and good Leighton, whose
philanthropy extended to all mankind—whose whole existence was a
living commentary on the great doctrine which was ever on his lips—
namely, that the Founder of Christianity came to proclaim “peace on
earth, good-will to men?” After the Revolution, when
Presbyterianism again unfurled her banners to the mountain-breezes
of our country—banners which, alas! had been wofully trampled
under foot, and in defending which the best blood in Scotland had
been poured out like water—the son of one of the ejected curates
settled in the parish of —— as a farmer, retaining, however, the
religious principles in which he had been educated, and which were
now doubly dear to him in the hour of his church’s adversity.
Like his father, he was a Christian, not only in theory, but in
practice; his faith was evinced, not by vague declamation, not by
ultra-sanctimoniousness, but by its genuine fruits—namely, good
works.
Son succeeded sire in the same district and the same principles;
and it seemed that a peculiar blessing had descended on the whole
race; as whatever things were lovely, or of good report, these things
they did; and the promise to the meek was fulfilled them, for they
literally “inherited the earth.”
Their flocks and herds were numerous; their corn and pasture
fields ample;—they enlarged their borders, and, at the time this
sketch commences, they mingled with the aristocracy of the county.
The youngest son of a branch of this family had studied at the
University of Oxford, with a view to the Church of which his family
had been such distinguished members. He was a youth not only of
ardent piety, but of intense application; he fearlessly grappled with
the most abstruse subjects; he divested philosophy of its jargon, and
divinity of its verbosity; and nothing was so dear to his heart as when
he discovered truth like a diamond amidst the heaps of rubbish
which had been accumulating for ages.
But, alas! like the gentle Kirke White, while his mind was
expanding and luxuriating amid the treasures of Greece and Rome,
and the still more sacred stores of Palestine, his body was declining
with corresponding rapidity; therefore, with attenuated frame and
depressed spirits, he sought once more his native vale, to inhale
health with its invigorating breezes.
Secluded from the great world, and debarred from pursuing his
favourite studies, he sought the society of Rose Jamieson as an
antidote to that ennui which will inevitably obtrude itself on the
mind amid the solitudes of a thinly peopled country. The great poet
of nature has told us that the recluse may find—
Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
And I have no doubt that the amiable and interesting student would
have been sufficiently charmed with the beauties of external nature,
and instructed by her eloquence, had there not been “metal more
attractive” in the beautiful being who shared his walks and his
friendship.
The lovely Rose Jamieson became his ministering angel; her smile
chased away the languor that brooded over his intelligent
countenance; her sweet voice quickened his sluggish pulse, and made
his heart thrill with an indescribable joy—a heretofore unknown
rapture; her sunny glances diffused life, light, and gladness through
his whole frame.
The golden hours on angel wing
flew over them; the summer day became too short for them; their
walks became Eden, and their day-dreams Elysium; they loved—
fervently—mutually.
Soon as morning gleamed on the mountains, the fond pair were to
be seen brushing the dew from the clover, by the banks of the
romantic Nith, or climbing the daisied uplands with elastic steps and
buoyant hearts—for the mountain air had already renovated the
youth’s enfeebled frame, and hope had animated his spirits, and
given vivacity to his conversation. They expatiated on the beauty and
sublimity of the scenery around them—on the power and goodness of
the Deity, displayed alike in the creation of the sun in the firmament,
and the production of the myriads of wild-flowers which enamelled
the green sward beneath their feet. The rushing of the mighty river to
a still mightier ocean, and the diamond dewdrop hid in the petal of
the half-opened rose; the wide-spreading and venerable oak of a
century, and the lowly gowan of yesterday, afforded inexhaustible
themes for discussion; and the conclusion which invariably forced
itself on their attention, was that of the pious Addison—
In Reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever singing, as they shine,
“The hand that made us is divine.”
By Hugh Miller.
In the latter end of August 1819, I went out to the fishing then
prosecuted on Guilliam in a Cromarty boat. The evening was
remarkably pleasant. A low breeze from the west scarcely ruffled the
surface of the frith, which was varied in every direction by unequal
stripes and patches of a dead calmness. The bay of Cromarty,
burnished by the rays of the declining sun until it glowed like a sheet
of molten fire, lay behind, winding in all its beauty beneath purple
hills and jutting headlands; while before stretched the wide extent of
the Moray Frith, speckled with fleets of boats which had lately left
their several ports, and were now all sailing in one direction. The
point to which they were bound was the bank of Guilliam, which,
seen from betwixt the Sutors, seemed to verge on the faint blue line
of the horizon; and the fleets which had already arrived on it had, to
the naked eye, the appearance of a little rough-edged cloud resting
on the water. As we advanced, this cloud of boats grew larger and
darker; and soon after sunset, when the bank was scarcely a mile
distant, it assumed the appearance of a thick leafless wood covering a
low brown island.
The tide, before we left the shore, had risen high on the beach, and
was now beginning to recede. Aware of this, we lowered sail several
hundred yards to the south of the fishing ground; and after
determining the point from whence the course of the current would
drift us direct over the bank, we took down the mast, cleared the
hinder part of the boat, and began to cast out the nets. Before the
Inlaw appeared in the line of the Gaelic Chapel (the landmark by
which the southernmost extremity of Guilliam is ascertained), the
whole drift was thrown overboard and made fast to the swing. Night
came on. The sky assumed a dead and leaden hue. A low dull mist
roughened the outline of the distant hills, and in some places blotted
them out from the landscape. The faint breeze that had hitherto
scarcely been felt now roughened the water, which was of a dark blue
colour, approaching to black. The sounds which predominated were
in unison with the scene. The almost measured dash of the waves
against the sides of the boat and the faint rustle of the breeze were
incessant; while the low dull moan of the surf breaking on the distant
beach, and the short sudden cry of an aquatic fowl of the diving
species, occasionally mingled with the sweet though rather
monotonous notes of a Gaelic song. “It’s ane o’ the Gairloch
fishermen,” said our skipper; “puir folk, they’re aye singin’ an’
thinkin’ o’ the Hielands.”
Our boat, as the tides were not powerful, drifted slowly over the
bank. The buoys stretched out from the bows in an unbroken line.
There was no sign of fish, and the boatmen, after spreading the sail
over the beams, laid themselves down on it. The scene was at the
time so new to me, and, though of a somewhat melancholy cast, so
pleasing, that I stayed up. A singular appearance attracted my notice.
“How,” said I to one of the boatmen, who a moment before had made
me an offer of his greatcoat, “how do you account for that calm
silvery spot on the water, which moves at such a rate in the line of
our drift?” He started up. A moment after he called on the others to
rise, and then replied, “That moving speck of calm water covers a
shoal of herrings. If it advances a hundred yards farther in that
direction, we shall have some employment for you.” This piece of
information made me regard the little patch, which, from the light it
caught, and the blackness of the surrounding water, seemed a bright
opening in a dark sky, with considerable interest. It moved onward
with increased velocity. It came in contact with the line of the drift,
and three of the buoys immediately sunk. A few minutes were
suffered to elapse, and we then commenced hauling. The two
strongest of the crew, as is usual, were stationed at the cork, the two
others at the ground baulk. My assistance, which I readily tendered,
was pronounced unnecessary, so I hung over the gunwale watching
the nets as they approached the side of the boat. The three first, from
the phosphoric light of the water, appeared as if bursting into flames
of a pale green colour. The fourth was still brighter, and glittered
through the waves while it was yet several fathoms away, reminding
me of an intensely bright sheet of the aurora borealis. As it
approached the side, the pale green of the phosphoric matter
appeared as if mingled with large flakes of snow. It contained a body
of fish. “A white horse! a white horse!” exclaimed one of the men at
the cork baulk; “lend us a haul.” I immediately sprung aft, laid hold
on the rope, and commenced hauling. In somewhat less than half an
hour we had all the nets on board, and rather more than twelve
barrels of herrings.
The night had now become so dark, that we could scarcely discern
the boats which lay within gunshot of our own; and we had no means
of ascertaining the position of the bank except by sounding. The lead
was cast, and soon after the nets shot a second time. The skipper’s
bottle was next produced, and a dram of whisky sent round in a tin
measure containing nearly a gill. We then folded down the sail,
which had been rolled up to make way for the herrings, and were
soon fast asleep.
Ten years have elapsed since I laid myself down on this couch, and
I was not then so accustomed to a rough bed as I am now, when I can
look back on my wanderings as a journeyman mason over a
considerable part of both the Lowlands and Highlands of Scotland.
About midnight I awoke quite chill, and all over sore with the hard
beams and sharp rivets of the boat. Well, thought I, this is the tax I
pay for my curiosity. I rose and crept softly over the sail to the bows,
where I stood, and where, in the singular beauty of the scene, which
was of a character as different from that I had lately witnessed as is
possible to conceive, I soon lost all sense of every feeling that was not
pleasure. The breeze had died into a perfect calm. The heavens were
glowing with stars, and the sea, from the smoothness of the surface,
appeared a second sky, as bright and starry as the other, but with this
difference, that all its stars appeared comets. There seemed no line of
division at the horizon, which rendered the allusion more striking.
The distant hills appeared a chain of dark thundery clouds sleeping
in the heavens. Tn short, the scene was one of the strangest I ever
witnessed; and the thoughts and imaginations which it suggested
were of a character as singular. I looked at the boat as it appeared in
the dim light of midnight, a dark irregularly-shaped mass; I gazed on
the sky of stars above, and the sky of comets below, and imagined
myself in the centre of space, far removed from the earth and every
other world—the solitary inhabitant of a planetary fragment. This
allusion, too romantic to be lasting, was dissipated by an incident
which convinced me that I had not yet left the world. A crew of south
shore fishermen, either by accident or design, had shot their nets
right across those of another boat, and, in disentangling them, a
quarrel ensued. Our boat lay more than half a mile from the scene of
contention, but I could hear, without being particularly attentive,
that on the one side there were terrible threats of violence,
immediate and bloody; and on the other, threats of the still more
terrible pains and penalties of the law. In a few minutes, however,
the entangled nets were freed, and the roar of altercation gradually
sunk into a silence as dead as that which had preceded it.
An hour before sunrise, I was somewhat disheartened to find the
view on every side bounded by a dense low bank of fog, which hung
over the water, while the central firmament remained blue and
cloudless. The neighbouring boats appeared through the mist huge
misshapen things, manned by giants. We commenced hauling, and
found in one of the nets a small rock-cod and a half-starved whiting,
which proved the whole of our draught. I was informed by the
fishermen, that even when the shoal is thickest on the Guilliam, so
close does it keep by the bank, that not a solitary herring is to be
caught a gunshot from the edge on either side.
We rowed up to the other boats, few of whom had been more
successful in their last haul than ourselves, and none equally so in
their first. The mist prevented us from ascertaining, by known
landmarks, the position of the bank, which we at length discovered in
a manner that displayed much of the peculiar art of the fisherman.
The depth of the water, and the nature of the bottom, showed us that
it lay to the south. A faint tremulous heave of the sea, which was still
calm, was the only remaining vestige of the gale which had blown
from the west in the early part of the night, and this heave, together
with the current, which at this stage of the flood runs in a
southwestern direction, served as our compass. We next premised
how far our boat had drifted down the frith with the ebb-tide, and
how far she had been carried back again by the flood. We then turned
her bows in the line of the current, and in rather less than half an
hour were, as the lead informed us, on the eastern extremity of
Guilliam, where we shot our nets for the third time.