to the death-toll of the largest," wrote Scott. "The monks wept and prayed as they got themselves into the order of their procession for the last time, as seemed but too probable. . . . The great gate of the abbey was flung open, and” they “moved slowly forward from beneath its huge and richly adorned gateway. Cross and banner, pix and chalice, shrines containing relics, and censers steaming with incense, preceded and were intermingled with the" extended and solemn array of the Fathers, who appeared "in their long black gowns and cowls, with their white scapularies hanging over them." Each of the various officers of the convent displayed his proper badge of office. "In the centre of the procession came the abbot, surrounded and supported by his chief assistants. He was dressed in his habit of high solemnity, and appeared as much unconcerned as if he had been taking his usual part in some ordinary ceremony. After him came the inferior persons of the convent; the novices in their albs or white dresses, and the lay brethren, distinguished by their beards, which were seldom worn by the Fathers. Women and children, mixed with a few men, came in the rear, bewailing the apprehended desolation of their ancient sanctuary. . . . In this order the procession entered the marketplace of the village of Kennaquhair, which was then, as now, distinguished by an ancient cross of curious workmanship, the gift of some former monarch of Scotland." Around this, "the monks formed themselves, each in their due place." The chant they had been singing was stilled. The lamentations of the populace were hushed. The men of Fate appeared; and, as they approached, the brotherhood chanted the solemn psalm, De profundis clamavi. All this scene, with incidents yet unmentioned here, can still be pictured well at the cross of Melrose. Existing, though altered, and coeval with the abbey, "still it watches o'er the town." The upper part with the arms seems to have disappeared after the Reformation, and the structure to have been purified by substituting a unicorn and the royal insignia of Scotland for the entire emblem of salvation. During the momentous interview before it, described in the story, there was disagreement, even to quarrelling, and even between the two great earls whose coming had caused the commotion. Mary Avenel, indeed, became a subject of dispute, and her disposal in marriage was not very privately argued, and more with regard to other considerations than her affections. But all being well that ends well, good came of this trying visit. Halbert Glen dinning secured for his bride Mary Avenel, then an heiress; the abbot retained, for a while at least, his establishment in no worse condition than before; and, quite as curiously, though perhaps less importantly, Sir Piercie Shafton, who had become a conspicuous subject of the disagreeing and debating, reappeared, to be proven the grandson of a tailor, one old Overstitch of Holderness, and also to be proven the doer of some rather desirable justice to his page, Mysie Happer, by marrying her, "his lovely Mysinda," as he termed her. Thus Halbert Glendinning became Knight of Avenel. Both he and his lady, staunch Protestants, are again introduced to us in "The Abbot," childless, and the early guardians of Roland Græme. Edward Glendinning again lived at Glendearg, then comparatively deserted, also again to reappear in "The Abbot," and as a zealous and active Catholic. Once more, and for the last time, he saw the mysterious White Spirit, "seated by her accustomed haunt, and singing, in her usual low and sweet tone," "Fare thee well, thou Holly green! The knot of fate at length is tied, The Churl is Lord, the Maid is bride. Send the lover from her sight; "The vision seemed to weep while she sung; and the words impressed on Edward a melancholy belief, that the alliance of Mary with his brother might be fatal to them both." And here this sketch, directing to the places in which the incidents of Scott's story occurred, ends, where also ends his pleasant narration of some of the later fortunes of "The Monastery." These visits to the scenes of this novel, -scenes such favorites with its great author, and to his homes during boyhood and the full glory of manhood; to the wonderful panorama of historic, poetic, and romantic associations living in the fair and varied scenery presented from Eildon Hill; to the great Tweed-dale relics of ancient art and piety; and to that shrine at Dryburgh, where all of him that is mortal reposes, to all this region so peculiarly "The Land of Scott," may well make us think, at our departure from it, of Childe Harold's "vain adieu" to the river Rhine, and feel of our farewell, that, like his, - "Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise: The brilliant, fair, and soft, — the glories of old days.” The direct way of return to Edinburgh, by rail, leads up the Vale of Gala Water, past the Lammermuir and the Pentland Hills, and past Crichton Castle, celebrated in "Marmion" (page 43), and Bothwick and Dalhousie (both worth visiting, and only a short distance from the line). Through this pleasant country the Scottish Capital may be reached from Melrose, or a route equally interesting may be found by Berwick to the chief scenery sketched in the next chapter. XXXVI. "THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR." Eighth Novel of the Series; Written 1818-19; Published 10th June, 1819; TRA RAVELLERS departing from Edinburgh by the main line of the North British Railway, on the route proposed to England, can, before leaving Scotland, make interesting excursions on the way. By the branch to North Berwick, it is possible, on one fine day, to visit from that town the Law, a great solitary, conical hill, nine hundred and forty feet high, conspicuous through all that region, and even at Edinburgh; and then, three miles along the coast, the massive ruins of Tantallon Castle, chief stronghold of the earls of Douglas, and thus famous in the latter part of "Marmion" (pages 46–50), as scene of one of the most stirring episodes in that stirring poem; and, finally, to visit The Bass Rock, an insulated mass of precipitous crags, two miles from shore, rising so grandly over four hundred feet above the sea. By carriage, or by walking, it is possible in half a day to visit, from Grant's House Station on the line, the remains of Fast Castle, overlooking the German Ocean, amid scenery worth visiting on account of its picturesqueness, and yet more attractive for its associations with many of the chief incidents of this novel. From the same railway line there is convenient access to the battle-fields of Pinkie (1547, page 258) and of Preston Pans (1745, pages 15, 145, and 258); and, from Tranent, the interesting Jacobian mansion, Wintoun House, the reputed original of Ravenswood Castle, a prominent place in this story. About half a dozen miles from Linton Station is Garvald Tower, the reputed original of Earnscliff (page 283) in "The Black Dwarf." At Dunbar are the extensive, shattered ruins of a sea-side stronghold, once famous, and even now impressive and interesting. Fast Castle is, perhaps, however, of all these places, the one whose associations are the most romantic. The sad but fascinating tale that Scott has told us of Lucy Ashton and Edgar Ravenswood invests this lonely yet noble and charming spot with an enchantment not among the lesser creations of his spirit. "The Bride of Lammermoor," a poem in prose, and one of Scott's best compositions, has continued since its publication to be one of the most favorite, although one of the most tragic, of his stories. In its preparation he spent a longer time than he usually devoted to similar works, and adopted a different mode. Severe and painful, even dangerous, illness was upon him, confining him at least to a sofa-bed, preventing him from writing, and obliging him to employ amanuenses. One of these, John Ballantyne, was rapid and clerkly, and preferred; the other was William Laidlaw, his steward, a reduced gentleman, and an intimate, cordial, entertaining, and admiring friend. As he heard the story flowing from the author's lips, he could not suppress interruptions by exclamations of delight, such as "Gude keep us a'!- the like o' that! — eh sirs! eh sirs!" While thus dictating, Scott would often turn "himself on his pillow, with a groan of torment," yet usually continue "the sentence with the same breath. But when dialogue of peculiar animation was in progress, spirit seemed to triumph altogether over matter; he arose from his couch, and walked up and down the room, raising and lowering his voice, and, as it were, acting the parts. It was in this fashion that Scott produced the far greater portion of 'The Bride of Lammermoor,' the whole of 'The Legend of Montrose,' and almost the whole of 'Ivanhoe.'" The first work (says James Ballantyne, publisher) “was not only written but published before Mr. Scott was able to rise from his bed;" and "when it was first put into his hands in a complete shape," he could recollect only its merest outlines, — none of its development "with which he was connected as the writer of the work." The chief characters and incidents of this masterly story, thus composed, have their originals in realities; though, as evidently necessary, the former must be disguised to prevent too apparent personal allusions. And thus some minor anachronisms may be detected by the very critical. The general character of the story is so widely known that it hardly requires any sketch. A prominent law-lord, Sir William Ashton, rising from lower to higher life, and married to a proud woman who fancied herself of superior rank, had an unusually beautiful daughter, who, through the ambition of her parents, was forced to discard a worthy lover of high rank, though impoverished, and to marry a rich and eligible neighbor, whom she detested, and thus to cause the tragedy so impressively presented in this novel. Sir William Ashton is said to be portrayed from Sir John Nisbet of Dirleton, who strikingly resembled him in many respects. The first Lord Stair is also said to be the original of Sir William; and incidents in the life of his daughter much increase the resemblance, as also does the character of his wife. These latter persons might indeed be supposed preserved in enduring family picture in this story, had not Scott, in his Introduction to this work, disclaimed "any idea of tracing the portrait of the first Lord Viscount Stair in the tricky and mean-spirited Sir William Ashton. Lord Stair, whatever might be his moral qualities, was certainly one of the first statesmen and lawyers of his age.' In a rare volume, the "Tripatriarchicon," by Rev. Andrew Symson, are two elegies on the originals of "The Bride" and her bridegroom. The first is "On the unexpected death of the vertuous Lady, Mrs. Janet Dalrymple, Lady Baldone, Younger," and is entitled "Dialogus inter advenam et servum domesticum." It will not quite bear comparison with Scott's memorial words. The other, astonishingly apostrophizes the gentleman concerned, evidently a friend to the reverend poet, who bursts forth, – |