INTRODUCTORY

Last year (1904) no fewer than seven thousand persons from all parts of the world visited Abbotsford.[1] There is no diminution in the annual pilgrimage to this chief shrine of the Border Country, nor is there likely to be. Scott's name, and that of Abbotsford, are secure enough in the affections of men everywhere. Whilst many would rejoice to see Sir Walter's home on a different footing from a patriotic point of view—less of a shilling show-house for one thing—there is no reason to quarrel with the present arrangements, which, likely enough, are the best under existing conditions. The order of viewing the various rooms, however, might well be improved, the public permitted to linger over them a little more leisurely, and also to see something of the exterior of the building. That many ardent Scott worshippers who flock yearly to Abbotsford would welcome a more ample opportunity for study and reflection within its charmed enclosure goes without saying. Of course, as being still a private residence, there are obvious difficulties in the way of such easier access. But probably that may come by-and-by.

The best preparation for a visit to Abbotsford is a course of Lockhart. There is no more faithful account of the place, from its purchase to the high-water mark of Scott's happiness there and the troubled years preceding the end. From at least 1820, and irrespective of his London life, Lockhart was Scott's companion and confidant at Abbotsford. Seldom has the fellowship of letters shown a friendship so strong and true. It was sympathy other than that of a son-in-law which Lockhart brought to the writing of his great Biography, and which has made it one of the masterpieces of literature. Never, surely, was a great man more fortunate in his life-story than Scott at the hands of Lockhart, one of the most maligned and misunderstood men of his day, indeed, but a kindly, lovable soul withal. To understand Abbotsford, it is a necessity that one should study the life of its originator and owner, with whose name, notwithstanding any subsequent occupation, the 'romance in stone and lime' is indissolubly connected.

In Scott's earliest association with Abbotsford, or, rather, with the site on which Abbotsford stands, is there not theme alike for painter and poet? Lockhart tells how Scott used to relate that, travelling in boyhood with his father from Selkirk to Melrose, the old man desired the carriage to halt at the foot of an eminence, and said: 'We must get out here, Walter, and see a thing quite in your line.' His father then conducted him to a rude stone[2] on the edge of an acclivity about half a mile from the Tweed, at which spot the last great clan-battle of the Borders was fought between Scotts and Kers for the possession of King James V., the young Prince himself being a spectator of the contest. From a child Scott had exhibited a marked precocity for Border history and Border lore in general, and even then, as a boy, there were few to excel him as a story-teller. The printed page was in the dim distance, but already he could command an audience no less wonder-struck with that fair silver tongue of his, which in the budding Edinburgh days won him the heart of Mrs. Alison Cockburn and her coterie. We may be sure that the elder Walter had a more than average pride in the boy's tastes and promise for the future, nor would the opportunity be lacking by which these were encouraged and enriched. The road between Selkirk and Melrose has other memories, recalled, doubtless, that day as they drove along, but to a boy whose mind seemed ever bent on

'Old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago,'

the near neighbourhood of a Border battle-field was quite an event. Hence the picture of Scott and his father surveying the spot where, in the year 1526,

'gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear
Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear,'

might well lend inspiration for some artist's canvas. For there is more in the subject than the mere suggestion of a future great author touching for the first time the land to be immortalized by his genius. Were it that only, we should have an endless succession of canvases; but it is the suggestiveness of strongest personal association rather. Comparatively few recollect the incident which appealed so to Scott, both in his boyhood and later life. But everybody knows that practically all the arena of that fateful struggle—most of the landscape on which his youthful vision long and rapturously rested—by-and-by became his own possession. We may suppose that at least a quarter of a century lay between that day and the purchase of his first hundred acres as Laird of Abbotsford, and the gradual growth, almost year by year, of the lands of Abbotsford, still holds a big place in the popular imagination. As a battle scene, it was significant of his own career. What conquests were these fields not again to witness—and what defeats! What heroism of the pen, no less noble than that of the sword! What determination in the face of fearful odds to do his best at Duty's call, no less honoured and no less magnificent in achievement than the doughtiest deed of arms in ancient or modern days! That Abbotsford should attract its tens of thousands from all ends of the earth was to be expected after such a strenuous life as Scott's. Human nature must always pay homage at the shrine of the truly great, and if it be true that no writer has given pleasure to vaster multitudes, and that never has the life of his country been so well limned as by this master-hand, it will be equally true of Abbotsford that it will never want those to whom everything about it and its very dust is dear.

27

'And thou hast stood—how strange the story!—

In Melrose Square seven hundred years or more:

Saw the gray Abbey in its pomp and glory—

Looked round on hill and valley long before

Men gave up being mosstroopers and reivers,
And settled down as shopkeepers and weavers!

FROM CARTLEYHOLE TO ABBOTSFORD