Over the Ocean Part 6

Bidding adieu to this exquisite little building, we will take a glance at another, or rather the ruins of another, that owes much of its fame also to the interest with which Walter Scott has invested it--one which he loved to visit, and much of whose beautiful architectural ornamentation he caused to be copied into his own Abbotsford. I refer to Melrose Abbey; and, as no tourist ever thinks of leaving Scotland without seeing it, a sketch of our visit may possibly be but a new version of an oft-told story; but now that I have seen it, I am never tired of thinking and reading of its wondrous beauty.

Melrose is thirty-five miles from Edinburgh by rail; and on arrival at the station, we were at once pounced upon by a number of drivers of vehicles in waiting, who were desirous of securing us, or of having us secure them, for a drive to Melrose Abbey, Abbotsford, or Dryburg Abbey, and if we had not been cautioned, we should have been warned by a card which was thrust into my hand, and which I give for the benefit of other tourists who may go that way, informing them that the "Abbey Hotel,"

herein mentioned, is less than five minutes' walk from the little railroad station.

"THE ABBEY HOTEL, ABBEY GATE, MELROSE.

"This hotel is situated upon the abbey grounds, and at the entrance to the 'far-famed ruins.' Parties coming to the hotel, therefore, are cautioned against being imposed upon by cab-drivers at the railroad station and elsewhere, as this is the only house which commands the views of Melrose Abbey.

"An extensive addition having been lately built to this establishment, consisting of suites of sitting and bed-rooms, it is now the largest and most handsome hotel in Melrose.

"One-horse carriage to Abbotsford and back 6s. 6d.

" " to Dryburg and back 7s. 6d.

"These charges include everything."

Upon the reverse we were treated to a pictorial representation of this "most handsome hotel," an unpretending, two-story mansion, which, we were informed, was kept by Archibald Hamilton, who also kept various "horses, gigs, and phaetons for hire; wines and foreign and British spirits for sale." A rush of twenty visitors would have overrun the "establishment," to which "an extensive addition" had been made. The Abbey Hotel was a comfortable English inn, and we found, on arriving at it, that it almost joined on to the very abbey itself; while another little building, the dwelling of the widow and two daughters who showed the ruins, as we found, for a consideration, was close by--too close, it seemed to us, to this glorious old structure, which, even in its ruins, is an object of universal admiration, its magnificence and gracefulness ent.i.tling it to be ranked as one of the most perfect works of the best age of this description of ecclesiastical architecture.

Melrose was built in 1146, destroyed by the English in 1322, and rebuilt with two thousand pounds sterling, given by Robert Bruce, in 1326--a sum of money equal to about fifty thousand pounds at the present time. So much for its history. But let us pay the s.e.xton's pretty daughter her shilling, for here she is with the key that unlocks the modern iron-railing gate that excludes strangers who do not pay for the privilege; and following her a few steps, we are in the midst of the grand and glorious ruins of the old abbey that we are familiar with in song and story, and from the many counterfeit presentments that we have, time and again, gazed upon in luxurious ill.u.s.trated books, or upon the walls of art galleries at home.

"The darkened roof rose high aloof, On pillars lofty, light, and small; The key-stone that locked each ribbed aisle Was a fleur-de-lis, or a quatre-feuille.

The corbels were carved grotesque and grim, And the pillars with cl.u.s.tered shafts so trim, With base and with capital flourished around, Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound."

As we came into the midst of this glorious old structure, we actually stood silent for some time, so filled were we with admiration at its wondrous beauty. To be sure, the blue arch of the heavens is now its only roof, and from the shattered walls rooks or jackdaws fly noisily overhead; but, then, the majestic sweep of the great Gothic arches, that vista of beauty, a great Gothic aisle still standing, fifty feet long, and sixty feet from floor to key-stone, the superb columns, and the innumerable elegant carvings on every side, the graves of monarch, knight, and wizard, marked with their quaint, antique inscriptions at your feet, and

"The cloister galleries small, Which at mid height thread the chancel wall,"

all form a scene of most charming and beautiful effects.

And we stood there, with the blue sky looking in through the shattered arches, the noisy rooks flying hither and thither on their morning calls, the turf, soft, green, and springy, sprinkled here and there with wild flowers, in the centre of the ruin, while festoons of ivy waved in the breeze, like tapestry hung about the shattered windows and crumbling columns.

Here was the place, and the day was one of those quiet, dreamy spring days, on which tourists could sit

"Them down on a marble stone,"

and read bold Deloraine's visit to the wizard's grave, as described by Scott in the Lay of the Last Minstrel. And here is his grave, an unpoetical-looking place enough now, and perhaps less wonderful since Branksome's knight wrenched it open, and took away the magic volume from Michael Scott's dead clasp. Here is the spot where Robert Bruce's heart was buried; here the grave of the Earl of Douglas, "the dark Knight of Liddesdale," and of Dougla.s.s, the hero of Chevy Chase; while quaint and Latin inscriptions on the walls and the time-worn slabs record the resting-place of once proud, but now extinct families and forgotten heroes, all now one common dust.

We must not forget the great windows of the abbey, more especially the EAST WINDOW. I write it in large letters, for it is an architectural poem, and it will live in my memory as a joy forever, it is such a thing of beauty. The lightness of its proportions and beauty of its tracery at once impress the beholder; and all around the sides and above it are quaint and wonderfully-executed sculptures in the stone-work--statues, chain and crown; figures on carved pedestals, beneath canopies of wrought stone, while wreaths and sculptured flowers are artistically wrought in various directions.

The exterior of the abbey presents remarkable symmetry, and a profusion of embellishment in sculptured stone-work, and is built in the usual form of such structures--a Latin cross. The nave, in its present ruined condition, is two hundred and fifty-eight feet long, by seventy-nine in breadth. The transept is one hundred and thirty feet long, and forty-four in breadth, which will give some idea of the size of these splendid old edifices of the Romish church. The ornamental carving, with which the whole edifice is so profusely decorated, would afford study for a month, and consists, besides delicately-chiselled flowers and plants, of grotesque and curious figures of monks, saints, nuns, demons, &c.

Among other sculptures is that of a man seated cross-legged, upholding a pedestal on his shoulders, his features expressing pain at the heavy weight; a group of musicians playing on various instruments and performing different antics; a man with his head in his hand; monks with rosaries, cooks with knife and ladle, grinning heads, and women with faces veiled and busts displayed; effigies of the apostles, rosettes, ribbed work, bouquets of flowers, scallop sh.e.l.ls, oak leaves, acorns, lilies and plants; in fact, the faithfulness with which well-known plants have been represented by the sculptor has long been the subject of comment of the historian and antiquarian; and "in this abbey," says an historian, "there are the finest lessons and the greatest variety of Gothic ornaments that the island affords, take all the religious structures together."

What must it have been when nave, and transept, and aisle were perfect, when the great windows were perfect glories of colored gla.s.s, the carvings fresh from the sculptor's chisel, and the chant of a hundred monks floated through the lofty arches! In those times when these holy men gave their hearts and hands to the extending and embellishing of those temples erected to the great Architect of the Universe, by that wonderful order of men, the Freemasons, and did it with an enthusiasm and taste which proved that they deemed a love of the beautiful not incompatible with the love of religion! It was then that religious fervor expressed itself in grand creations, and all the arts of the age were controlled and made to contribute to the one great art of the age, Architecture, as evinced in these wondrous works of their hands that they have left behind--models of artistic skill and beauty unexcelled as yet by those who have come after them.

Melrose Abbey is a place that I would have enjoyed spending a week at instead of a single day, which was all too short for proper study and examination of the curious specimens of the sculptors' and builders'

arts one encounters in every part of the ruins; but we must up and away.

A carriage to Abbotsford and back was chartered, and we were soon rattling over the pleasant road on our way to the home of Sir Walter Scott, about three miles distant. It is in some respects a curious structure, half country-seat, half castle, "a romance of stone and lime," as its owner used to call it. We did not catch sight of its castellated turrets, till, driving down a slight declivity from the main road, we were at the very gates; entering these, a beautiful walk of a hundred and fifty feet, along one aisle of the court-yard, and commanding a fine view of a portion of the grounds, the garden front, led us to the house itself.

At different points about the grounds and house are various stone antiquities, and curiosities gathered from old buildings, which one must have a guide-book to explain. Melrose Abbey and the old city of Edinburgh appear to have been laid under contribution for these mementos--the door of the old Tollbooth from the latter, and a stone fountain, upon which stood the old cross of Edinburgh, being conspicuous objects. Abbotsford is a lovely place, and seems to be situated in a sort of depression among the hills, and by them, in some degree, sheltered from any sweeping winds. Besides being of interest as the residence of Scott, it is a perfect museum of curiosities and relics identified with Scottish history.

The entrance hall is richly panelled in oak taken from the palace of Dunfermline, and the roof with the same. All along the cornice of the roof of this hall are the coats of arms of the different clans of the Border, painted in colors, on small armorial shields, an inscription stating,--

"=These be the coat armoires of the clanns and chief men of name, wha keepit the marchys of Scotland in the auld tyme for the Kynge. Trewe men were they in their defence. G.o.d them defendyt.="

Here are also three or four complete suits of tilting armor, set up and looking as though still occupied by the stern warriors who once owned them: one grasps a huge two-handed sword, captured at the battle of Bosworth Field; another a broad claymore taken from the dead grasp of a Highlander, who fell with

"His back to the field and his feet to the foe,"

on the disastrous field of Culloden; the breastplates and trappings of two of Napoleon's celebrated French cuira.s.siers, whose resistless charge trampled down whole battalions, but who were swept from their saddles by hundreds, as these two were by the leaden hail of the English infantry squares at Waterloo. Here also were stout old lochaber axes, English steel maces, battle-axes, and other weapons, many with histories, and from the b.l.o.o.d.y fields whose horrors are a prominent feature on the pages of history.

But the most interesting rooms of all, to me, were the study and library of Sir Walter; and among the most interesting relics were the plain, unpretending suit of clothes last worn by him, his walking-sticks, his shoes, and his pipes; and in his study the writing-table at which he wrote, and the great leather-covered chair in which he sat. The library is quite a large apartment, some fifty or sixty feet in length, handsomely decorated, and with its deep, broad windows looking out upon the River Tweed. It is completely lined with books from floor to ceiling--in all, some twenty thousand.

Here are also many curiosities; among others, the silver urn presented by Lord Byron, which rests on a stand of porphyry; Marie Antoinette's clock; very curious and richly carved ebony arm-chairs, presented by George IV.; a gla.s.s case contained Rob Roy McGregor's purse, a piece of Robert Bruce's coffin, a purse wrought by Joanna Baillie, a small case by Miss Martineau, two gold bees, each as big as a hen's egg, taken from Napoleon's carriage, a portfolio that once belonged to Napoleon, miniature portrait of Prince Charlie, ("Wha'll be King but Charlie?"), snuff-box of George IV., the seal of Mary, Queen of Scots, a little box from Miss Edgeworth, and other relics and momentos.

In the armory, among other curiosities, we saw the musket of that redoubtable outlaw Rob Roy, Claverhouse's pistol, a sword that was given to the Marquis of Montrose by Charles I., James VI.'s hunting flask, pair of pistols found in Napoleon's carriage at the battle of Waterloo, the armor of one of the old Scottish kings, General Monk's pistols, keys of the old Tollbooth, &c.

Among the more striking pictures upon the walls of the different rooms were the portrait of the head of Mary, Queen of Scots, upon a charger, said to have been taken a few hours after her execution, the sad, pale features of which haunted my imagination for many an hour afterwards.

Then there were the stern, heavily-moulded features of Cromwell, Charles XII., the lion of Sweden, and Claverhouse, Charles II., and a long-bearded old ancestor of Sir Walter's, who allowed his beard to grow after the execution of Charles I.; and a collection of original etchings by Turner and other artists, the designs for the "Provincial Antiquities of Scotland." But from all these we sauntered back reverentially to the little study, with its deep arm-chair, and its table and books of reference, and its subdued light from the single window; for here was the great author's work-room. A garrulous guide and three or four curious friends allow a dreamer, however, no time for thought and reflection while there is sight-seeing to be done; so we were escorted over a portion of the prettily laid-out grounds, and then took our leave, and our carriage, and soon left Abbotsford behind us.

Edinburgh, Melrose, and Abbotsford seen, we must next have a look at Stirling Castle. So, after a ride of thirty-six miles from Edinburgh, we are eating the well-cooked mutton chops that they serve at the Golden Lion, in Stirling, and, after being duly fortified with good cheer, wend our way up through the steep streets to the castle on its rocky perch.

This strong old castle, standing directly upon the brow of a precipitous rock, overlooks one of the most extended and beautiful landscapes in the kingdom--the beautiful vale of Menteith, the Highland mountains in the distance, Ben Lomond, Benvenue, Ben Lodi, and several other "Bens;" the River Forth, winding its devious course through the fertile valley, the brown road, far below at our feet, running along to the faintly-marked ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey, and the little villages and arched bridges, form a charming view.

The eye here takes in also, in this magnificent prospect, no less than twelve of Scotland's battle-fields, including one of Wallace's fierce contests, and Bannockburn, where Bruce gained the independence of Scotland in 1314.

James II. and James V. were born in Stirling; and I looked at the little narrow road which goes down behind the castle with some interest, when I was told it furnished King James V. the fict.i.tious name, "Ballangeich,"

he was in the habit of a.s.suming when he went among his subjects in disguise. Theatre-goers will remember the play of the "Gude Man of Ballangeich," and the "King of the Commons," and that he was the king who was hero in those plays, and also the "James Fitz-James" of Scott's Lady of the Lake. And, speaking of the Lady of the Lake, the beautiful view from the battlements of Stirling Castle, three hundred feet above the valley, recalled Roderic Dhu's reply to James:--

"Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I marked thee send delighted eye Far to the south and east, where lay, Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures green, With gentle slopes and groves between; Those fertile fields, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael."

The outer gates of the castle are said to have been built by the old Romans, and were strong enough for ancient batteries, but not for modern artillery. The marks of the cannon shot fired by General Monk when he attacked the castle, directing the whole fire of his artillery at one point till he battered down a portion of the wall, and the breach through which William Wallace entered, are points of interest. So was the dark, secure, stone cell into which we peeped, where Rob Roy is said to have been confined. The outer works of the castle were erected in Queen Anne's time, and that known as the Palace, built by James V. The little room known as the Dougla.s.s Room, with its adjoining closet, is one of the "lions" of the castle, for it was here that the Earl of Dougla.s.s--the "Black Dougla.s.s"--met King James II. under promise of safe conduct; and after a fierce discussion, in which the king vainly tried to induce him to abandon a compact he had made with other chiefs, he stabbed the earl, in a fit of pa.s.sion. The n.o.bles attendant on the king, concealed in the little antechamber, rushed in and completed the murder, throwing the body from the window--which is pointed out to us--into the garden beneath.

Not far from the castle is the "Lady's Rock," a small hill from which the ladies of the Scottish court, and other favored ones, could look down upon the tournament field, a hundred feet below. And as we sat there, and looked upon the form of the lists, still visible upon the turf below, marked by the green ridges, it was easy to imagine what an animated and beautiful scene it must have presented when filled with knights and squires, steeds and men; for it was here that James was forced to award Dougla.s.s the prize, as the victor in the feats of strength at the Scottish sports.

"The gray-haired sires, who know the past, To strangers point the Dougla.s.s cast, And moralize on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day."

This beautiful vale has witnessed many a joust and tournament. This vale at our feet, this "Lady's Rock," and the lady's seat, which makes for us a sort of rocky throne, as we sit here and muse on Scotland's history and Scotland's poet, are the very ones he speaks of as

"The vale with loud applauses rang, The Lady's Rock sent back the clang."

Near the Lady's Rock is a modern cemetery, beautifully laid out, and containing statues of Knox and Henderson, and other handsome monuments.

The old churchyard of Grayfriars contains many curious monuments, and here, on an old sun-dial, I found this inscription:--

"I mark time; dost thou?

I am a shadow; so art thou."

It was in Grayfriars that James VI. was crowned, and Knox preached the coronation sermon.