Scott's desk is seldom seen open. The present writer counts it one of the memories of his life to have had that pleasure, and to have sat in Sir Walter's 'own huge elbow-chair,' and to have handled--an act almost too sacred after all those years--relics so touching and pathetic in their associations. The little locks of hair are still there, with the quills used by Scott, and his spectacles, pocket-knife, paper-knife, and a large number of account-books and other private documents. Here, too, is Mrs. Lockhart's Bible 'From J. G. L., 1825,' her Prayer-Book, and a host of articles with which both Scott and Lockhart must have been long familiar.
[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT'S DESK AND 'ELBOW CHAIR' IN THE STUDY, ABBOTSFORD]
'Thou, who with tireless hand didst sweep Away the damps of ages deep And fire with wild, baronial strain The harp of chivalry again, And bid its long-forgotten swell Thrill through the soul, farewell! farewell!'
Other objects of interest may be briefly noted:
Of green morocco; in the Empire style, which prevailed early in the last century.
Presented by Joseph Train in 1822. Made of wood from Robroyston, near Kirkintilloch, the scene of Wallace's betrayal. A MS. volume in Train's handwriting, contained in a drawer under the seat, tells the story of the chair (see Lockhart, vol. vii., p. 223; note inscription).
Carries the simple address: 'Sir Walter Scott, Castle Street.'
Made from wood of the Spanish Armada, and inscribed: 'Afflavit Deus et dissipantur.'
Print of Stothard's 'Canterbury Pilgrims' (over the mantelpiece).
The best-known of Stothard's paintings. Engraved in 1817. 'Sir Walter made the characteristic criticism upon it that, if the procession were to move, the young squire who is prancing in the foreground would in another minute be off his horse's head' (Adolphus's 'Memoranda').
'The eagle, he was lord above, And Rob was lord below.'
Sculptor probably Samuel Joseph, R.S.A. Founder of the Blair-Adam Club (see Lockhart, vol. viii., p. 200). 'I have lived much with him, and taken kindly to him as one of the most pleasant, kind-hearted, benevolent men I have ever known.'
A small turret-room off the study is of peculiar interest. Sir Walter styled it his 'Speak-a-bit.' Here he enjoyed many a happy _tête-à-tête_. It is said to be panelled with the oak of the bedstead on which Queen Mary slept at Jedburgh in 1566. Scott's death-mask is the only article the room contains. The dead face is so tired that nobody can look upon it without a gush of pity, and a feeling of thankfulness that at last the man is in his grave. We are not moved by the grandeur of its modelling; the appeal it makes is to a larger humanity than that. It is the face of a brother man, stretched out too long upon the rack of this tough world. The majesty of the forehead, and the dour earnestness of the features, tell of Walter Scott, the genius; but it is in the corners of the mouth that all the pathos lies. In them there is the droop of an infinite weariness, and it makes the heart ache (see _Temple Bar_, 1904).