St. Giles and the Procession

Sir Walter Scott Centenary:

I have an impression, as I glance back over several months to that day in September, of one moment above all—the instant when, the pipers playing, I looked up and saw Scott, sitting outlined against the brilliant blue sky, as quiet, peaceful, and kindly as though he were in the study at Abbotsford, Maida’s head resting on his knee. That moment and the minutes in fitful sunshine at Dryburgh are the high experiences for me of the Scott Centenary.

As to the procession, I think that it was dignified and worthy of its cause—but two criticisms. Surely there should have been music? As we walked step by step past the silent watchers we might have been the ghosts of all the characters in the Waverley Novels. Surely there should have been music!

There were no ludicrous incidents. Prince George wore a buttonhole; I wore a light grey overcoat when I should have been in black; we talked once and again—and so on and on our steps quietly covered the ground, and there was not a drum sounding nor a trumpet blowing!

I think (but then perhaps I am prejudiced) that literature should have been more widely represented. After all, Scott was an author as well as a business man. I would like to have seen a band of Scottish writers in the very forefront—Buchan and Linklater, Neil Gunn and George Blake, Grierson and William Roughead.

The service in St Giles was very moving. We seemed to feel Scott’s presence—it was quiet and still there and the music was soft. But the great moment was when the pipers played before Scott’s happy, tranquil eyes against the blue sky.

And I think Scott himself enjoyed a chuckle or two that day!