DRYBURGH ABBEY

Taranaki Daily News, 26 March 1932, Page 11 (Supplement)

DRYBURGH ABBEY

HALLOWED TOMBS

(By

T.C.L.)

Melrose Abbey has been immortalised by Scott himself. But before Melrose Town or even “old Melrose” with its abbey ruins are reached, before a visit is paid two miles to the west to Sir Walter Scott’s home at Abbotsford, there are the remains of Dry burgh Abbey to turn aside and visit. The approach to the Abbey is through a treeshadowed avenufe; the River Tweed skirts the boundaries of the precincts and a more beautiful setting for historical ruins it would be hard to find. There is. the one main ruin and two smaller portions now detached. The roof has gone but the symmetry of its vast. proportions can still be followed in the green grass, and the beautiful stonework of the windows L still intact after centuries of neglect.

The north choir aisle and east aisle of the north transept still remain, as does ■the chapter house, a 13th century relic, used only recently by the Royal Chapter for their convocation. Even these are later additions to the original fabric, for Dryburgh w . a “reformers’” abbey. It was one < - those built by the “White Canons,” an order founded by Norbert, Archbishop of Madgeburg. He saw even in 1120 influences at work in the existing monastic systems that 'weakened the austerity he considered essential. The abbeys he founded were noted for their simplicity of design. The masons who constructed the Abbey in 1150 did their work faithfully and well, and if their handiwork is examined closely there is to be seen the distinguishing characteristics of the master craftsman. The fratery and dormitory of the Abbey are also intact. Traces of ■the refreotory can also be seen. These were duly placed in order of importance. The one nearest the abbots’ house w-s for distinguished visitors, King’s messengers, noblemen and benefactors to tho church. Another was ■ for visiting monks, and the third, just within the main gates, was for p-or travellers, provision for whom was one of the monastic duties and ae of the secrets of its hold upon the community. But the chief interest to the visitor is not the Abbey 'buildings. They are wonderful, and their history stretches back to the reclamation of Scotland from heathendom. It is to the graveyard alongside that the visitor is impelled. It is one that still serves its purpose, but only to those who have the right to sepulchure there as members of families who have traditional ties with the Abbey lands. The right is jealously guarded. It extends to high and low. The shepherd or the ploughman, if he have it, may claim burial alongside the noble. It was here that Sir Walter Scott, whose kinship 'by his mother with the Halliburtons gave him the right, claimed burial, and no more beautiful or restful place could be found in the whole wi<|e world. It is here, too, that Field Marshal Earl Haig preferred to lie rather than among the captains of the hosts in Westminster or St. Paul’s. The grounds are beautifully cared for and have sufficient of a woodland atmosphere to have pleased even so great a tree-lover as Scott himself. But the path that is the most trodden is that towards one of the detached ruins. There, .100 years ago next September, the “ Wizard of the North” rested from labours such as few could understand or appreciate. His home at Abbotsford knew all that sorrowful story. Of confidence-? fooled away and ruin faced. But at Dryburgh there was peace, and it is there that tribute is paid to the genius that made Scottish history live again and to its possessor as a heroic soul that could not face dishonour. Sir Walter lies there with his wife and “at his feet,” his son-in-law, Gibson Lockhart. Facing the Eildon Hills on Bemersyde is “Sir Walter’s view.” We were told by our hosts, ardent lovers of Scott as befit citizens of the “Queen city of the North,” that it was the finest view on the Border. We agreed. Nothing more beautiful could be imagined, let alone seen. Here Scott' used to drive in his carriage and sit silently for half an hour gazing upon the scene of lovely wooded vale and murmuring river. And one can readily appreciate the story related of Sir Walter’s funeral —how the long line of carriages was’ held, up on Bemersyde 'because Scott’s carriage horses, drawing the hearse, stopped at the view he loved so well arid stood patiently there for half an hour, as they had done so often during their master’s life. ,

Earl Haig’s grave is alongside another “Tweedside gentleman” who preferred to “come home” and whose fame, though of another calibre, will live so long as Britain endures. The man of letters and the soldier, both gifted with the genius that grows from infinite study and attention to detail, both idolised, both misunderstood, both full of pride of race yet full of consideration for the common folk, and both martyrs to duty. The rugged grandeur of the ruined Abbey, the 13th ceritury old cedars of Lebanon filtering the warm rays and casting their shadows over the graves as the sun passes over the sdene, the peace and fragrance of its precincts make just the right location for such, hallowed tombs.

At the time of Lord Haig's death the 600 years’ old prophesy of Thomas the Rhymer was recalled:

’Tyde what may betyde Haig shall be Haigh of Bemersyde. How that prophesy has been borne out is one of the most remarkable circumstances of history. The border Scots were always at war with either the Highlanders or the hated English from the South, but despite the fact that the Haighs were always in the thick of the fray there was invariably a laird to succeed to Bemersyde. Ln the 18th century the Haigh had 12 daughters, but the 13th child was a son and the line w r as preserved and the prophesy vindicated. But it appeared as if the line would end with the death of Lord Haig, for he did not marry until late in life. It is said he would not have married at all but for the interest displayed in his welfare by the Queen of England, who introduced him to one of her beautiful maids-in-waiting and encouraged them in their romance. The subsequent union proved eventful and happy, and Lady Haig to-day by the intense interest she has shown in the welfare of exsoldiers and the poor people has become one of the most beloved ladies of the land. Her wreath and poppies still lie on the grave of her distinguished husband alongside those of the men with whom he fought during the War and for whom he so earnestly cared afterwards. ' ■. •

Nottingham Odd Minute Society has raised over £2O by selling, articles made in spare time. ’ ,