Contributed by his Grace the DUKE OF ARGYLL.
I HAD often heard the late Duke of Argyll relate an
extraordinary vision which had been seen about the middle of the last
century by two men of the name of Bell, father and son, in the immediate
neighbourhood of this place.
In looking over some old papers lately, I found an
account of this vision, written in 1808, by a Mr. Bell, a writer in the
burgh of Inveraray, who was the son of the younger, and grandson of the
elder, of the two men who saw the vision. Mr. Bell, and the family to
which he belonged, were persons of the highest respectability of
character, and no doubt was ever entertained as to the truthfulness of the
narrative.
I may mention that in some details the written account
differs slightly from the form in which the same story was related to me,
derived from oral tradition. But the locality is so accurately described,
that the spot can be identified at the present day. The thorn-bush,
referred to in the narrative, still exists; and though the two clumps of
trees, also mentioned, were cut down many years ago, their position can be
seen from the curious indelibility with which old pasture retains ghostly
indications of former operations on the surface of the soil.
My father always attributed the vision to the effects
of mirage. But it is a very extraordinary example of this
phenomenon. Thinking it may possibly interest some of the readers of Good
Words, I send the written narrative which I have found.
COPY OF A LETTER FROM MR. BELL TO COLONEL CAMPBELL,
SHAWFIELD.
Sir,—As you wish to have an account of the vision which
my father and grandfather saw in the neighbourhood of this place, I will
now endeavour to comply with your request. I have heard it with all its
circumstances, so often related by them, both when together, as well as by
my father separately, since my grandfather's decease, that I am as fully
convinced they saw the vision as if I had seen it myself. At the same
time, I must acknowledge that, however desirous 1 am to oblige you and
Lady Charlotte, I commit the account of it to writing with some degree of
reluctance, well knowing how little reliance is given by the more
intelligent classes of people to a narration of that kind, and how little
it corresponds with the ordinary course of causes and events.
This vision was seen by them about three o'clock in the
afternoon of a very clear, sunny day in the month of June, or July,
between the years 1746 and 1753. I cannot go nearer to ascertain the year.
My grandfather was then a farmer in Glenaray (which you
know is within four miles of this place), and my father, who was at that
time a young unmarried man, resided in the family with him. On the morning
of the day above mentioned, my grandfather having occasion to transact
some business in Glenshira, took my father along with him; they went there
by crossing the hill which separates it from Glenaray, and their business
in Glenshira being finished a little after midday, they came round by
Inveraray in order to return home. At that time the road generally used
from Glenshira to Inveraray lay upon the west side of the river of Shira
all the way to the Garron Bridge, where it joined the high road, which
leads from Inveraray to the low country by that bridge.
As soon as they came to that bridge, and had turned
towards Inveraray upon the high road, being then (as you know) within view
of a part of the old town of Inveraray, which has been since demolished,
the ground upon which the new town presently stands, and of the whole line
of road leading from it, to the above-mentioned bridge, they were very
much surprised to behold a great number of men under arms, marching on
foot towards them. At this time the foremost ranks were only advanced as
far as Kilmalieu. They were marching in regular order, and as closely as
they could move, from the point of the new town, near the quay, where
Captain Gillis's house now stands, along the shore, and high road, and
crossing the river of Aray near the town at or about the spot where the
new bridge has since been built. Of the rear, there appeared to be no end.
The ground upon which the new town now stands was then surrounded by a
park wall, and the road beyond it lay in a circular direction between that
wall and the sea. From the nature of the ground, my father and grandfather
could see no further than the wall; and, as the company was advancing in
front, the rear as regularly succeeded, and advanced from the furthest
verge of their view. This extraordinary sight, which was wholly
unexpected, so much attracted their attention, that they stood a
considerable time to observe it. They then walked slowly on, but stopped
now and then, with their eyes constantly fixed upon the objects before
them. Meantime, the army continuing regularly to advance; they counted
that it had fifteen or sixteen pairs of colours; and they observed that
the men nearest to them, were marching upon the road, six or seven
abreast, or in each line, attended by a number of women and children, both
above and below the road, some of whom were carrying tin cans, and other
implements for cooking, which I am told is customary upon a march. They
were clothed in red—but as to this particular circumstance, I do not
recollect whether my grandfather mentioned it or not, though I know my
father did— and the sun shone so bright, that the gleam of their arms,
consisting of muskets and bayonets, dazzled their sight. They also
observed between Kilmalieu and the salmon draught an animal, resembling a
deer or a horse, in the middle of a crowd of soldiers, who were (as they
conjectured) stabbing or spurring it forward with their bayonets.
My father, who had never seen an army before, naturally
put a number of questions to my grandfather—who had served with the
Argyllshire Highlanders, in assisting to suppress the Rebellion in
1745—concerning the probable route and destination of this army, which was
now advancing towards them, and the number of men of which it seemed to
consist. My grandfather replied that he supposed it had come from Ireland,
and had landed in Kintyre, and that it was proceeding to England; and
that, in his opinion, it was more numerous than the armies on both sides
at the Battle of Culloden. My father having particularly remarked that the
rear ranks were continually running forward in order to overtake those who
were before them, and inquiring into the reason of that circumstance, my
grandfather told him that that was always the case with the rear, that the
least possible obstacle stopped and threw them behind, which necessarily,
and in a still greater degree, retarded the march of those who were behind
them, and obliged them to run forward till they gained their own places
again. And he therefore advised my father, if ever he went into the army,
to endeavour, if possible, to get into the front ranks, which always
marched with leisure and ease, whilst those in the rear were generally
kept running in the manner he had seen.
My father and grandfather were now come to the
thorn-bush, between the Garron Bridge and the gate of the deer park, and
at the same time the van of the army had advanced very near to that gate,
which you know is but a very short distance (I believe not above a hundred
and fifty or two hundred yards) from the thorn-bush, and as the road forms
into a right-angled corner at that gate, and the front of the army being
then directly opposite to them, they had, of course, a better opportunity
of observing it minutely than they had at first done. The vanguard, they
then observed, consisted of a party of forty or fifty men, preceded by an
officer on foot; at a little distance behind them, another officer
appeared, riding upon a grey dragoon horse. He was the only person they
observed on horseback, and from his appearance and station in the march,
they considered him as the commander-in-chief.
He had on a gold-laced hat, and a blue hussar cloak,
with wide open sleeves, all lined with red. He also wore boots and spurs ;
the rest of his dress they could not see. My father took such particular
notice of him, that he often declared he would have known him perfectly
well, if he had ever seen him again. Behind this officer, the rest of the
army marched all in one body, so far as they observed, but attended by
women and children, as I mentioned above.
My father's curiosity being now sufficiently gratified,
he thought it was high time to provide for his own security. He
represented to my grandfather that it was very probable these men, who
were advancing towards them, would force them to go along with them, or
use them otherwise ill; and he therefore proposed that they should both go
out of their way, by climbing over the stone dyke which fences the deer
park from the high road, observing that the spot where they then were was
very convenient for that purpose, as the thorn-bush would help to conceal
them from their view while going over the dyke. To this my grandfather,
objecting, said, that he was a middle-aged man, and had seen some service,
he did not believe they would give any trouble to him; but he told my
father, as he was a young man, and that they might probably take him along
with them, he might go out of their way as he thought fit.
Upon this my father leaped instantly over the dyke, he
then walked behind it for a little time in the direction of the Garron
Bridge, and when he had got about half way, he turned up towards the
clumps of trees in the neighbourhood of the Bridge, believing that he was
then out of the reach of pursuit, should any be attempted. But when he
arrived near the clumps, he looked back to observe the motions of the
army, and whether any person attempted to follow him, but he found, to his
utter astonishment, that they were all vanished. Not a soul of them was to
be seen.
As soon as he recovered from the surprise which this
extraordinary scene had occasioned, he returned to my grandfather, and
cried out, "What has become of the men?" My grandfather, who seems not to
have paid much attention to them after my father left him, then observing
that they had all disappeared, answered with an equal degree of
astonishment, "that he could not tell."
As they proceeded on their way to Inveraray, he
recommended to my father to keep what they had seen a profound secret,
adding, that they would make themselves ridiculous by mentioning it, for
that "no person would believe that they had seen a vision so
extraordinary." At the same time he told him, that though he (my
grandfather) might not live to see it, my father might probably live to
see the vision realised.
This conversation was scarcely ended, when they met one
Stewart, an old man, who then resided in Glenshira, going home, and
driving a horse before him. This, as they believed, was the same animal
they had observed before, surrounded by a crowd. My father,
notwithstanding the admonitions he had just received, was not able to
contain himself. He asked Stewart what was become of the people who were
travelling with him? Stewart, not understanding the drift of the question,
answered that nobody had been in company with him since he left Inveraray,
but that he had never travelled on so warm a day, that the air was so
close and sultry he was hardly able to breathe, and that his horse had
become so weak and feeble, he was obliged to alight and drive him before
him.
The account I now send you of this vision was not only
communicated by my father and grandfather to me, but was also communicated
by them to many others in this, place and neighbourhood soon after it
happened; it being scarcely possible that so extraordinary an occurrence
should be long concealed. It is no doubt extremely difficult to account
for it upon the ordinary principles which regulate human events, but no
person acquainted with my father and grandfather ever supposed that either
of them was capable of inventing such a story; and, accordingly, as far as
I can understand, no person to whom they told it ever doubted that they
told anything but the truth.
My grandfather died several years ago.. My father only
died within these two years,, but neither of them saw their vision
realised, although, indeed, my father had strong expectations of seeing it
a few years before his death, particularly at the time of the Irish
Rebellion, and of the last threatened invasion of the French.
It may not, perhaps, be improper to add that upon the
day on which the vision was seen, neither my father nor grandfather had
tasted anything stronger than milk; so that, whatever was the cause of the
impression made upon their imaginations, it could not be owing to any
intemperance.
I shall be extremely happy if this little story can
contribute in any degree to your own or Lady Charlotte's amusement; and
am, with due respect, Sir,
Your most obedient and humble servant, Archibald Bell.
Inveraray, November 8th, 1808.