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Page 46
LETTER XV.
_Melrose Abbey--Abbotsford--Dryburgh Abbey--The Grave of Sir Walter
Scott--Hawick--Gretna Green--Visit to the Lakes._
YORK, _March 26, 1851_.
I closed my last letter in the ancient town of Melrose, on the banks of
the Tweed, and within a stone's throw of the celebrated ruins from which
the town derives its name. The valley in which Melrose is situated, and
the surrounding hills, together with the Monastery, have so often been
made a theme for the Scottish bards, that this has become the most
interesting part of Scotland. Of the many gifted writers who have taken
up the pen, none have done more to bring the Eildon Hills and Melrose
Abbey into note, than the author of "Waverley." But who can read his
writings without a regret, that he should have so woven fact and fiction
together, that it is almost impossible to discriminate between the one
and the other.
We arrived at Melrose in the evening, and proceeded to the chapel where
our meeting was to be held, and where our friends, the Crafts, were
warmly greeted. On returning from the meeting, we passed close by the
ruins of Melrose, and, very fortunately, it was a moonlight night. There
is considerable difference of opinion among the inhabitants of the place
as regards the best time to view the Abbey. The author of the "Lay of
the Last Minstrel," says:--
"If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight:
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild but to flout the ruins gray."
In consequence of this admonition, I was informed that many persons
remain in town to see the ruins by moonlight. Aware that the moon did
not send its rays upon the old building every night in the year, I asked
the keeper what he did on dark nights. He replied that he had a large
lantern, which he put upon the end of a long pole, and with this he
succeeded in lighting up the ruins. This good man laboured hard to
convince me that his invention was nearly, if not quite as good, as
Nature's own moon. But having no need of an application of his invention
to the Abbey, I had no opportunity of judging of its effect. I thought,
however, that he had made a moon to some purpose, when he informed me
that some nights, with his pole and lantern, he earned his four or five
shillings. Not being content with a view by "moonlight alone," I was up
the next morning before the sun, and paid my respects to the Abbey. I
was too early for the keeper, and he handed me the key through the
window, and I entered the rooms alone. It is one labyrinth of gigantic
arches and dilapidated halls, the ivy growing and clinging wherever it
can fasten its roots, and the whole as fine a picture of decay as
imagination could create. This was the favourite resort of Sir Walter
Scott, and furnished him much matter for the "Lay of the Last Minstrel."
He could not have selected a more fitting place for solitary thought
than this ancient abode of monks and priests. In passing through the
cloisters, I could not but remark the carvings of leaves and flowers,
wrought in stone in the most exquisite manner, looking as fresh as if
they were just from the hands of the artist. The lapse of centuries
seems not to have made any impression upon them, or changed their
appearance in the least. I sat down among the ruins of the Abbey. The
ground about was piled up with magnificent fragments of stone,
representing various texts of Scripture, and the quaint ideas of the
priests and monks of that age. Scene after scene swept through my fancy
as I looked upon the surrounding objects. I could almost imagine I saw
the bearded monks going from hall to hall, and from cell to cell. In
visiting these dark cells, the mind becomes oppressed by a sense of the
utter helplessness of the victims who once passed over the thresholds
and entered these religious prisons. There was no help or hope but in
the will that ordered their fate. How painful it is to gaze upon these
walls, and to think how many tears have been shed by their inmates, when
this old Monastery was in its glory. I ascended to the top of the ruin
by a circuitous stairway, whose stone steps were worn deep from use by
many who, like myself, had visited them to gratify a curiosity. From the
top of the Abbey, I had a splendid view of the surrounding hills and
the beautiful valley through which flows the Gala Water and Tweed. This
is unquestionably the most splendid specimen of Gothic architectural
ruin in Scotland. But any description of mine conveys but a poor idea to
the fancy. To be realized, it must be seen.
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