第 九 章 · MORE OF THE MANOR-HOUSE AND ITS ENVIRONS

. MORE OF THE MANOR-HOUSE AND ITS ENVIRONS

After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around him for a few

minutes, Waverley applied himself to the massive knocker of the

hall-door, the architrave of which bore the date 1594. But no answer

was returned, though the peal resounded through a number of apartments,

and was echoed from the court-yard walls without the house, startling

the pigeons from the venerable rotunda which they occupied, and

alarming anew even the distant village curs, which had retired to sleep

upon their respective dunghills. Tired of the din which he created, and

the unprofitable responses which it excited, Waverley began to think

that he had reached the castle of Orgoglio as entered by the victorious

Prince Arthur,—

When ’gan he loudly through the house to call,

But no man cared to answer to his cry;

There reign’d a solemn silence over all,

Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seen in bower or hall.

Filled almost with expectation of beholding some “old, old man, with

beard as white as snow,” whom he might question concerning this

deserted mansion, our hero turned to a little oaken wicket-door, well

clenched with iron-nails, which opened in the court-yard wall at its

angle with the house. It was only latched, notwithstanding its

fortified appearance, and, when opened, admitted him into the garden,

which presented a pleasant scene.[*] The southern side of the house,

clothed with fruit-trees, and having many evergreens trained upon its

walls, extended its irregular yet venerable front along a terrace,

partly paved, partly gravelled, partly bordered with flowers and choice

shrubs. This elevation descended by three several flights of steps,

placed in its centre and at the extremities, into what might be called

the garden proper, and was fenced along the top by a stone parapet with

a heavy balustrade, ornamented from space to space with huge grotesque

figures of animals seated upon their haunches, among which the

favourite bear was repeatedly introduced. Placed in the middle of the

terrace between a sashed-door opening from the house and the central

flight of steps, a huge animal of the same species supported on his

head and fore-paws a sun-dial of large circumference, inscribed with

more diagrams than Edward’s mathematics enabled him to decipher.

[* At Ravelston may be seen such a garden, which the taste of the

proprietor, the author’s friend and kinsman, Sir Alexander Keith,

Knight Mareschal, has judiciously preserved. That, as well as the house

is, however, of smaller dimensions than the Baron of Bradwardine’s

mansion and garden are presumed to have been.]

The garden, which seemed to be kept with great accuracy, abounded in

fruit-trees, and exhibited a profusion of flowers and evergreens, cut

into grotesque forms. It was laid out in terraces, which descended rank

by rank from the western wall to a large brook, which had a tranquil

and smooth appearance, where it served as a boundary to the garden;

but, near the extremity, leapt in tumult over a strong dam, or

wear-head, the cause of its temporary tranquillity, and there forming a

cascade, was overlooked by an octangular summer-house, with a gilded

bear on the top by way of vane. After this feat, the brook, assuming

its natural rapid and fierce character, escaped from the eye down a

deep and wooded dell, from the copse of which arose a massive, but

ruinous tower, the former habitation of the Barons of Bradwardine. The

margin of the brook, opposite to the garden, displayed a narrow meadow,

or haugh, as it was called, which formed a small washing-green; the

bank, which retired behind it, was covered by ancient trees.

The scene, though pleasing, was not quite equal to the gardens of

Alcina; yet wanted not the “due donzellette garrule” of that enchanted

paradise, for upon the green aforesaid two bare-legged damsels, each

standing in a spacious tub, performed with their feet the office of a

patent washing-machine. These did not, however, like the maidens of

Armida, remain to greet with their harmony the approaching guest, but,

alarmed at the appearance of a handsome stranger on the opposite side,

dropped their garments (I should say garment, to be quite correct) over

their limbs, which their occupation exposed somewhat too freely, and,

with a shrill exclamation of “Eh, sirs!” uttered with an accent between

modesty and coquetry, sprung off like deer in different directions.

[Illustration]

Waverley began to despair of gaining entrance into this solitary and

seemingly enchanted mansion, when a man advanced up one of the garden

alleys, where he still retained his station. Trusting this might be a

gardener, or some domestic belonging to the house, Edward descended the

steps in order to meet him; but as the figure approached, and long

before he could descry its features, he was struck with the oddity of

its appearance and gestures. Sometimes this mister wight held his hands

clasped over his head, like an Indian Jogue in the attitude of penance;

sometimes he swung them perpendicularly, like a pendulum, on each side;

and anon he slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his breast, like

the substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his usual flogging

exercise, when his cattle are idle upon the stand, in a clear frosty

day. His gait was as singular as his gestures, for at times he hopped

with great perseverance on the right foot, then exchanged that

supporter to advance in the same manner on the left, and then putting

his feet close together he hopped upon both at once. His attire also

was antiquated and extravagant. It consisted in a sort of grey jerkin,

with scarlet cuffs and slashed sleeves, showing a scarlet lining; the

other parts of the dress corresponded in colour, not forgetting a pair

of scarlet stockings, and a scarlet bonnet, proudly surmounted with a

turkey’s feather. Edward, whom he did not seem to observe, now

perceived confirmation in his features of what the mien and gestures

had already announced. It was apparently neither idiocy nor insanity

which gave that wild, unsettled, irregular expression to a face which

naturally was rather handsome, but something that resembled a compound

of both, where the simplicity of the fool was mixed with the

extravagance of a crazed imagination. He sung with great earnestness,

and not without some taste, a fragment of an old Scottish ditty:—

False love, and hast thou play’d me this

In summer among the flowers?

I will repay thee back again

In winter among the showers.

Unless again, again, my love,

Unless you turn again;

As you with other maidens rove,

I’ll smile on other men.[*]

[* This is a genuine ancient fragment, with some alteration in the two

last lines.]

Here lifting up his eyes, which had hitherto been fixed in observing

how his feet kept time to the tune, he beheld Waverley, and instantly

doffed his cap, with many grotesque signals of surprise, respect, and

salutation. Edward, though with little hope of receiving an answer to

any constant question, requested to know whether Mr. Bradwardine were

at home, or where he could find any of the domestics. The questioned

party replied, and, like the witch of Thalaba, “still his speech was

song,”—

The Knight’s to the mountain

His bugle to wind;

The Lady’s to greenwood

Her garland to bind.

The bower of Burd Ellen

Has moss on the floor,

That the step of Lord William

Be silent and sure.

This conveyed no information, and Edward, repeating his queries,

received a rapid answer, in which, from the haste and peculiarity of

the dialect, the word “butler” was alone intelligible. Waverley then

requested to see the butler; upon which the fellow, with a knowing look

and nod of intelligence, made a signal to Edward to follow, and began

to dance and caper down the alley up which he had made his approaches.

A strange guide this, thought Edward, and not much unlike one of

Shakespeare’s roynish clowns. I am not over prudent to trust to his

pilotage; but wiser men have been led by fools. By this time he reached

the bottom of the alley, where, turning short on a little parterre of

flowers, shrouded from the east and north by a close yew hedge, he

found an old man at work without his coat, whose appearance hovered

between that of an upper servant and gardener; his red nose and ruffled

shirt belonging to the former profession; his hale and sunburnt visage,

with his green apron, appearing to indicate

“Old Adam’s likeness, set to dress this garden.”

The major domo, for such he was, and indisputably the second officer of

state in the barony (nay, as chief minister of the interior, superior

even to Bailie Macwheeble in his own department of the kitchen and

cellar)—the major domo laid down his spade, slipped on his coat in

haste, and with a wrathful look at Edward’s guide, probably excited by

his having introduced a stranger while he was engaged in this

laborious, and, as he might suppose it, degrading office, requested to

know the gentleman’s commands. Being informed that he wished to pay his

respects to his master, that his name was Waverley, and so forth, the

old man’s countenance assumed a great deal of respectful importance.

“He could take it upon his conscience to say, his honour would have

exceeding pleasure in seeing him. Would not Mr. Waverley choose some

refreshment after his journey? His honour was with the folk who were

getting doon the dark hag; the twa gardener lads (an emphasis on the

word twa) had been ordered to attend him; and he had been just amusing

himself in the mean time with dressing Miss Rose’s flower-bed, that he

might be near to receive his honour’s orders, if need were; he was very

fond of a garden, but had little time for such divertisements.”

“He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the week at no rate

whatever,” said Edward’s fantastic conductor.

A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, and he

commanded him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, in a tone which admitted

no discussion, to look for his honour at the dark hag, and tell him

there was a gentleman from the south had arrived at the Ha’.

“Can this poor fellow deliver a letter?” asked Edward.

“With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects. I would hardly

trust him with a long message by word of mouth—though he is more knave

than fool.”

Waverley delivered his credentials to Mr. Gellatley, who seemed to

confirm the butler’s last observation, by twisting his features at him,

when he was looking another way, into the resemblance of the grotesque

face on the bole of a German tobacco pipe; after which, with an odd

_congé_ to Waverley, he danced off to discharge his errand.

“He is an innocent, sir,” said the butler; “there is one such in almost

every town in the country, but ours is brought far ben. He used to work

a day’s turn weel enough; but he helped Miss Rose when she was flemit

with the Laird of Killancureit’s new English bull, and since that time

we ca’ him Davie Do-little; indeed we might ca’ him Davie Do-naething,

for since he got that gay clothing, to please his honour and my young

mistress (great folks will have their fancies), he has done naething

but dance up and down about the _toun_, without doing a single turn,

unless trimming the laird’s fishing-wand or busking his flies, or may

be catching a dish of trouts at an orra time. But here comes Miss Rose,

who, I take burden upon me for her, will be especial glad to see one of

the house of Waverley at her father’s mansion of Tully-Veolan.”

But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unworthy historian than to

be introduced at the end of a chapter.

In the mean while it may be noticed, that Waverley learned two things

from this colloquy: that in Scotland a single house was called a

“town”, and a natural fool an “innocent”.[8]