As may readily be imagined, there are good views of the entire city and its surroundings. The Castle Esplanade was for centuries the promenade of the citizens of Old Edinburgh; and as such it is referred to, with King's Park and Leith Pier, in various acts for the better observance of the Lord's Day. It has often been the scene of public executions. Foret, the vicar of Dollar, and others of the early Reformers were here burnt at the stake during the persecution raised by Mary of Guise and the Romish hierarchy. Language does not suffice to express our regret as we think of what we have not spoken of, as the suburbs also are full of charms; but we must forego all, and take the train for Melrose, where we arrived at 12 o'clock Thursday, June 6, after a ride of an hour and a half. We are now on our way back to London by a somewhat circuitous route, and mainly in a southerly direction, on the east side of England.
CHAPTER XIV.
MELROSE—ABBOTSFORD.
The ride from Edinburgh is through a farming district, and strongly reminds one of southern New England. As the reader anticipates, we are to stop at Melrose for two purposes; to visit the ruins of its abbey, and to make the short tour of five miles to Abbotsford. The town of Melrose is intensely rural and charming. In 1851 it had a population of 7,487. It has a number of small and comfortable hotels, and carriages are on hire at reasonable prices. There are avenues for rambling; and at the border-line is a grand hill, which stretches along the entire length of the village. The road winds along the hill at a good elevation, and displays to advantage the valley of the Tweed and the hills on the opposite side, from three to five miles away. In the level parts of the great valley the land is under excellent cultivation, though largely devoted to grazing. The groves, the heavy woodlands, and the single trees which remain from the primeval forest are arranged with scrupulous care and a view to the picturesque. It would seem that one like Scott could not help being inspired by scenes like these. As one considers beautiful Edinburgh, he gets the impression that there is the more befitting residence for the great romancer; but once in Melrose, and on the top of these lovely hills, he feels that here Scott was in his element.
Our first step was to go to a hotel, dine, and determine the proper course for sight-seeing. Talking the matter over with our hostess we were advised to join a party of two or three others, take a team, and go first to Abbotsford, and stop on our way back at the abbey, which was in fact but a few minutes' walk from the hotel. The advice was accepted, and we were soon on the way to Abbotsford.
We passed through several streets, and into the suburbs; then, over pleasant roads, by beautiful farms, the lovely Tweed more or less of the time in view; and next, through narrow lanes, till we came in sight of Abbotsford. The place has a low look, for it is on the slightly elevated part of the meadow, in a northern parish of Melrose. Sir Walter bought the estate in 1811, being then at the age of forty. He soon after rebuilt the mansion, enlarging it as his fortunes permitted. He named it from an adjoining ford, called the Abbot's Ford, on the River Tweed, which here is a small stream that runs through the estate. It is quite sluggish in summer, about thirty feet wide, but greatly swollen by freshets. The house is large, and low in general appearance. It is built of gray limestone, is very irregular in castellated outline, with numerous small towers and gables. It is so low that we can look down upon it from the travelled road. The estate is approached by a lane from the main road. The garden is walled in, and the meadow-land outside reaches to the river. The external walls of the house and garden have built into them relics of ancient abbeys and carvings from old castles. At the decease of Sir Walter, Sept. 21, 1832, the building was occupied by James Hope Scott, Esq.; and his wife, the sole surviving daughter of Sir Walter, lived there until her death, Oct. 26, 1858. It then went by inheritance to their daughter, but during her minority it was let for the use of a Roman Catholic seminary. On the day of our visit we found her in possession; but during the larger part of the day visitors are admitted to the principal rooms of the first story.
The business affairs appear to be managed by a matron who, after taking our shillings, explains, systematically and hurriedly, the various objects of interest for about half an hour,—all the time she can afford, and as much perhaps as we should give if standing in her place. The house is a source of great revenue, for no pleasant day passes without visitors. In the reception-room we await the return of the maiden, who is just then guiding another party. They come into the room wearing an expression that says they have seen, if they have not conquered. They wend their way slowly out of the grounds, up the narrow lane, to their carriages, and then, though breathing freer, they continue so absorbed in admiration that they have no energy to expend in regrets over the shortness of their stay. The experience of one party is that of all who have brains to comprehend the facts. A visit to Abbotsford is like a flash of lightning, which, for the moment, lights up miles of landscape, and then leaves the beholder to mentally repicture what is still there, but veiled from his view. An experience like this was ours at Strasburg, where a momentary light from our high hotel window exhibited the cathedral, the lofty roofs of the houses, and the storks standing on one leg on the chimney-tops. Brief was our half-hour at Abbotsford, but it was enough to write the spot indelibly upon memory's tablets.
But we now follow our guide, and are ushered first into the study. This is a room not far from twenty feet square and fifteen feet high. It is finished in oak, and has a heavy wrought ceiling of the same material. On one side is a coal grate, surrounded by a red marble mantel, with a lamp upon it, and a small marble obelisk monument. The grate, fire-screen, and poker remain as they were fifty-one years ago. At the centre of the room is the mahogany desk at which he sat,—plain and flat-topped. It has five drawers on each side, with an opening for the sitter's feet between the rows. The armchair is near it,—a good-sized comfortable chair, and covered with light-brown leather. The wall-spaces are filled with books, and a light cast-iron gallery extends partly around the room. Above this gallery are other reference books. On the side opposite the chimney, in front of a window, is a sort of casket, having a plate-glass top. It needs not that the maid should tell us that here are the last clothes worn by the poet. A well written paper so states, but the pictures of him have long before given the information. For their description we appeal to our note-books. At the left are the shoes,—large, thick, and made of coarse leather. They are moderately low-cut, much strained by his high instep, well blacked, and considerably worn. They have no binding or lining, and are tied with leather strings laced through four or five holes. In the centre is a well ironed and carefully folded pair of pants, once black and white, but now yellowish plaid,—the plaids a scant quarter-inch square; and there is the large waistcoat with alternating brown and white stripes, perhaps a sixteenth of an inch wide, and running lengthwise. Next there is a large white and wide-brimmed stove-pipe fur hat, with rather a short nap. It shows hard usage, for there are a number of dents in it. Finally, there is a dark-blue frock-coat,—said to have gilt buttons, but they are folded out of sight.