(_Abridged from Tait's Edinburgh Magazine._)
When we arrived at the ford, which gave its fancied name to the poet's
dwelling, we found the silver Tweed sparkling merrily along, as if all
things were as they were wont to be. The young woods before us, and the
towers, and gables, and pinnacles of the mansion, were smiling beneath
the mellowing rays of the September sun, as if unconscious that the
master-spirit which called them into being had for ever fled from them.
The sound of wheels came on the ear at intervals, rushing from different
directions, and indicating the frequent arrival of carriages; yet when
we, availing ourselves of the open doors, had taken our well-known way
through the garden, and passed beneath the Gothic screen that might have
vied with the Beautiful Gate of the Temple itself, and on into the
courtyard in front of the house, we were surprised to find it deserted
and lonely. Before any one came to interrupt us, we had leisure to gaze
around, and to wonder at the great growth of the trees and shrub's since
we had last beheld them; and as we did so, the venerable shade of him
who had last walked there with us, filled our imagination and our
eyes--shifted with them as they shifted;--and as it glided around
us, it recalled to our full hearts a thousand pleasing and touching
recollections. But our dreams were at length abruptly broken, by the
appearance of some of our acquaintances, who issued from the house; and
the sight of their weeds of woe immediately recalled our thoughts to the
garb of grief which we also wore, and to the sad object of our present
visit.
Passing through the Gothic hall, we met with no one till we entered
the library, where we found a considerable circle of gentlemen already
assembled: these were chiefly from the neighbouring districts; but there
were a few whom we recognised as having come from Edinburgh, and other
places equally distant. Obscured within the shadow of one of the
book-cases, we remained ruminating as if we had been absolutely alone,
until we were interrupted by a summons to the drawing-room, where
certain refreshments were prepared for those who had any inclination
to partake of them. But we must confess our natural antipathy to all
such mournful feasts; we therefore declined to join in this; and after
catching, as well as our position near the door allowed us to do, a
few stray sentences of a prayer, which was feelingly offered up by the
parish clergyman, we became so oppressed by the heat of the room, that
we ventured to steal away to enjoy the air in the porch.
That porch was soon tenanted in our imagination by that venerable ideal
image which we had been all this while courting to our side. With it
we continued to hold sacred communion--with it we looked, as we had
formerly done with the reality, on the effigy of _Maida;_[2] and
the harsh truth that Maida's master was now as cold as Maida itself,
went rudely home to our hearts. But footsteps came slowly and heavily
treading through the small armoury: they were those of the servants
of the deceased, who, with full eyes, and yet fuller hearts, came
reverently bearing the body of him whose courteous welcome had made
that very porch so cheerful to us. We were the only witnesses of this
usually unheeded part of the funeral duties: accident had given to us a
privilege which was lost to the crowd within. We instinctively uncovered
our heads, and stood subdued by an indescribable feeling of awe as the
corpse was carried outwards; and we felt grateful, that it had thus
fallen to our lot to behold the departure of these the honoured and
precious remains of Sir Walter Scott from the house of Abbotsford, where
all his earthly affections had been centered. The coffin was plain and
unpretending, covered with black cloth, and having an ordinary plate on
it, with this inscription, "Sir Walter Scott, of Abbotsford, Bart., aged
62." "Alas!" said we, as we followed the precious casket across the
courtyard--"alas! have these been the limits of so valuable a life?"
Having followed the coffin until we saw it deposited in the hearse,
which stood on the outside of the great gate of the courtyard, we felt
ourselves unequal to returning into the apartment where the company were
assembled; and we continued to loiter about, seeking for points of
recollection which might strengthen the chain of association we wished
to indulge in. Our attention was attracted, by observing the window of
the study open, and we were led to look within, impelled by no idle or
blameable curiosity, but rather like a pilgrim approaching the shrine
where his warmest adoration has ever been paid. But, alas I the deep
tones of the venerable old Principal Baird, whose voice was heard in
earnest and impressive prayer, came upon us through an opposite door,
from the library beyond; and the affecting allusions which he uttered
again brought us back to the afflicting truth, that Sir Walter Scott was
gone from us for ever!
The prayer was no sooner ended, than the company began to issue from
the house. The carriages had been previously assembled on the haugh
below, and were so arranged there, that they drove up in a continued
line; and as each passed the great gateway, it took up its owners,
and then proceeded. There certainly were not less than seventy
gentlemen's carriages of all descriptions, two-wheeled as well as
four-wheeled,--besides which there were a number of horsemen. The public
road runs along the face of the hill, immediately above the house, in a
direction from west to east; and the avenue leading from the gate of the
courtyard runs up the hill in a westerly direction, entering the public
road so obliquely as to produce a very awkward turn for carriages going
eastward towards Melrose. Until we had passed this point some little way
we could form no notion of the extent of the procession; but when we
were thus enabled to form some judgment of it, we perceived that it had
extended itself over about a mile of road.
Ere yet we had left the immediate vicinity of the house, we discovered a
mournful group of women-servants weeping behind the hedge on our left,
whither they had hurried to take their last look of that hearse which
was carrying to the grave a kind and indulgent master, whose like they
had no hope ever to look upon again.
The elevation of the road on the hill-side was such as to give us a full
view of the valley, and we could observe that the summit of many of the
little knolls at a distance, even those beyond the Tweed, were covered
with small clusters of rustic gazers, all intent upon a spectacle
equally calculated to move persons of every rank and description; and
every now and then we found a little knot of spectators assembled by the
way-side, whose motionless countenances and unbroken silence
sufficiently testified the nature of their feelings.
As we approached the neat little village of Darnick, our attention was
forcibly arrested by a very striking token of woe. On the top of an
ancient tower--one of those, we believe, which Sir Walter has rendered
classical--was placed a flag-staff, from which depended a broad, black
banner of crape, or some other light material. There was not a breath
of air to stir the film of a gossamer, so that light as the material
seemed to be, it hung heavy and motionless--a sad and simple emblem,
that eloquently spoke the general village sorrow. This we found more
particularly expressed in detail, as we passed through the little
place, by the many minuter insignia of mourning which the individual
inhabitants had put on the fronts of their houses and shops--by the
suspension of business--and by the respectful manner in which the young
and the old, and people of both sexes, stood silently and reverently
before their respective dwellings, wrapt in that all-absorbing sorrow
which told how deeply he that was gone had rooted himself in their
affections. When the hearse drew near to his own Melrose, the bell
tolled sadly from the steeple of the church; and as we entered the
street, we saw that here, as elsewhere, the inhabitants had vied with
each other in unaffected and unpretending demonstrations of their
individual affliction. In the little market-place we found the whole
male population assembled, all decently dressed in deep mourning,
drawn up in two lines, and standing with their hats off, silent and
motionless. The effect of the procession when crossing the Fly Bridge
over the Tweed, and still more when winding around that high and long
sweep of the road which is immediately opposite to the promontory of Old
Melrose, was extremely striking and picturesque; and the view, looking
back from the high ground towards the Eildon hills and Melrose, over
the varied vale of the Tweed, till the eye was arrested by the distant
mountains, then seen under a rich Claude effect; and the devious course
of the river, betrayed by fragments of water that sparkled here and
there amid the yellow stubbles and green pastures, was exquisitely
beautiful. But nothing gave so much interest to this glorious scene
as the far-off woods of Abbotsford, then dimmed by the warm haze, and
melting, as it were, from their reality, and so reminding us even yet
more forcibly of the fleeting nature of all the things of this
perishable world.
Having descended from our elevation, we entered the grounds of Dryburgh.
These occupy a comparatively level space, embraced by a bold sweep of
the Tweed, where the house of Dryburgh and the picturesque ruins of
Dryburgh Abbey, standing about two hundred yards distant from it, are
surrounded by groups of noble trees of all sorts, rare as well as
common; and among them the cedar is seen to throw out his gigantic limbs
with that freedom and vigour which could only be looked for on his
native Lebanon. The hearse drew up close to the house of Dryburgh; and
the, company, having quitted their carriages, pressed eagerly towards
it, Not one word was spoken; but, as if all had been under the influence
of some simultaneous instinct, they decently and decorously formed
themselves into two lines. The servants of the deceased, resolved that
no hireling should lay hands on the coffin of their master, approached
the hearse. Amongst these, the figure of the old coachman who had driven
Sir Walter for so many years was peculiarly remarkable, reverentially
bending to receive the coffin. No sooner did that black casket appear,
which contains all that now remains of the most precious of Scotia's
jewels, than, with downcast eyes and with countenances expressive of
the deepest veneration, every individual present took off his hat.
A moment's delay took place, whilst the faithful and attached servants
were preparing to bear the body, and whilst the relatives were arranging
themselves around it in the following order:--
HEAD.
Major Sir WALTER SCOTT, eldest son of the deceased.