by Walter Scott
A scene so different from what last night's journey had presaged produceda proportional effect upon Mannering. Beneath his eye lay the modernhouse--an awkward mansion, indeed, in point of architecture, but wellsituated, and with a warm, pleasant exposure. 'How happily,' thought ourhero, 'would life glide on in such a retirement! On the one hand, thestriking remnants of ancient grandeur, with the secret consciousness offamily pride which they inspire; on the other, enough of modern eleganceand comfort to satisfy every moderate wish. Here then, and with thee,Sophia!'
We shall not pursue a lover's day-dream any farther. Mannering stood aminute with his arms folded, and then turned to the ruined castle.
On entering the gateway, he found that the rude magnificence of the innercourt amply corresponded with the grandeur of the exterior. On the oneside ran a range of windows lofty and large, divided by carved mullionsof stone, which had once lighted the great hall of the castle; on theother were various buildings of different heights and dates, yet sounited as to present to the eye a certain general effect of uniformity offront. The doors and windows were ornamented with projections exhibitingrude specimens of sculpture and tracery, partly entire and partly brokendown, partly covered by ivy and trailing plants, which grew luxuriantlyamong the ruins. That end of the court which faced the entrance had alsobeen formerly closed by a range of buildings; but owing, it was said, toits having been battered by the ships of the Parliament under Deane,during the long civil war, this part of the castle was much more ruinousthan the rest, and exhibited a great chasm, through which Mannering couldobserve the sea, and the little vessel (an armed lugger), which retainedher station in the centre of the bay. [Footnote: The outline of the abovedescription, as far as the supposed ruins are concerned, will be foundsomewhat to resemble the noble remains of Carlaverock Castle, six orseven miles from Dumfries, and near to Lochar Moss.] While Mannering wasgazing round the ruins, he heard from the interior of an apartment on theleft hand the voice of the gipsy he had seen on the preceding evening. Hesoon found an aperture through which he could observe her without beinghimself visible; and could not help feeling that her figure, heremployment, and her situation conveyed the exact impression of an ancientsibyl.
She sate upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved apartment,part of which she had swept clean to afford a smooth space for theevolutions of her spindle. A strong sunbeam through a lofty and narrowwindow fell upon her wild dress and features, and afforded her light forher occupation; the rest of the apartment was very gloomy. Equipt in ahabit which mingled the national dress of the Scottish common people withsomething of an Eastern costume, she spun a thread drawn from wool ofthree different colours, black, white, and grey, by assistance of thoseancient implements of housewifery now almost banished from the land, thedistaff and spindle. As she spun, she sung what seemed to be a charm.Mannering, after in vain attempting to make himself master of the exactwords of her song, afterwards attempted the following paraphrase of what,from a few intelligible phrases, he concluded to be its purport:--
Twist ye, twine ye! even so Mingle shades of joy and woe, Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife, In the thread of human life.
While the mystic twist is spinning, And the infant's life beginning, Dimly seen through twilight bending, Lo, what varied shapes attending!
Passions wild, and Follies vain, Pleasures soon exchanged for pain, Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear In the magic dance appear.
Now they wax, and now they dwindle, Whirling with the whirling spindle. Twist ye, twine ye! even so Mingle human bliss and woe.
Ere our translator, or rather our free imitator, had arranged thesestanzas in his head, and while he was yet hammering out a rhyme forDWINDLE, the task of the sibyl was accomplished, or her wool wasexpended. She took the spindle, now charged with her labours, and,undoing the thread gradually, measured it by casting it over her elbowand bringing each loop round between her forefinger and thumb. When shehad measured it out, she muttered to herself--'A hank, but not a haillane--the full years o' three score and ten, but thrice broken, and thriceto OOP (i.e. to unite); he'll be a lucky lad an he win through wi't.'
Our hero was about to speak to the prophetess, when a voice, hoarse asthe waves with which it mingled, hallooed twice, and with increasingimpatience--'Meg, Meg Merrilies! Gipsy--hag--tausend deyvils!'
'I am coming, I am coming, Captain,' answered Meg; and in a moment or twothe impatient commander whom she addressed made his appearance from thebroken part of the ruins.
He was apparently a seafaring man, rather under the middle size, and witha countenance bronzed by a thousand conflicts with the north-east wind.His frame was prodigiously muscular, strong, and thick-set; so that itseemed as if a man of much greater height would have been an inadequatematch in any close personal conflict. He was hard-favoured, and, whichwas worse, his face bore nothing of the insouciance, the careless,frolicsome jollity and vacant curiosity, of a sailor on shore. Thesequalities, perhaps, as much as any others, contribute to the highpopularity of our seamen, and the general good inclination which oursociety expresses towards them. Their gallantry, courage, and hardihoodare qualities which excite reverence, and perhaps rather humble pacificlandsmen in their presence; and neither respect nor a sense ofhumiliation are feelings easily combined with a familiar fondness towardsthose who inspire them. But the boyish frolics, the exulting highspirits, the unreflecting mirth of a sailor when enjoying himself onshore, temper the more formidable points of his character. There wasnothing like these in this man's face; on the contrary, a surly and evensavage scowl appeared to darken features which would have been harsh andunpleasant under any expression or modification. 'Where are you, MotherDeyvilson?' he said, with somewhat of a foreign accent, though speakingperfectly good English. 'Donner and blitzen! we have been staying thishalf-hour. Come, bless the good ship and the voyage, and be cursed to yefor a hag of Satan!'
At this moment he noticed Mannering, who, from the position which he hadtaken to watch Meg Merrilies's incantations, had the appearance of someone who was concealing himself, being half hidden by the buttress behindwhich he stood. The Captain, for such he styled himself, made a suddenand startled pause, and thrust his right hand into his bosom between hisjacket and waistcoat as if to draw some weapon. 'What cheer, brother? youseem on the outlook, eh?' Ere Mannering, somewhat struck by the man'sgesture and insolent tone of voice, had made any answer, the gipsyemerged from her vault and joined the stranger. He questioned her in anundertone, looking at Mannering--'A shark alongside, eh?'
She answered in the same tone of under-dialogue, using the cant languageof her tribe--'Cut ben whids, and stow them; a gentry cove of the ken.'[Footnote: Meaning--Stop your uncivil language; that is a gentleman fromthe house below.]
The fellow's cloudy visage cleared up. 'The top of the morning to you,sir; I find you are a visitor of my friend Mr. Bertram. I beg pardon, butI took you for another sort of a person.'
Mannering replied, 'And you, sir, I presume, are the master of thatvessel in the bay?'
'Ay, ay, sir; I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick, of the YungfrauwHagenslaapen, well known on this coast; I am not ashamed of my name, norof my vessel--no, nor of my cargo neither for that matter.'
'I daresay you have no reason, sir.'
'Tausend donner, no; I'm all in the way of fair trade. Just loaded yonderat Douglas, in the Isle of Man--neat cogniac--real hyson andsouchong--Mechlin lace, if you want any--right cogniac--we bumped ashorea hundred kegs last night.'
'Really, sir, I am only a traveller, and have no sort of occasion foranything of the kind at present.'
'Why, then, good-morning to you, for business must be minded--unlessye'll go aboard and take schnaps; you shall have a pouch-full of teaashore. Dirk Hatteraick knows how to be civil.'
There was a mixture of impudence, hardihood, and suspicious fear aboutthis man which was inexpressibly disgusting. His manners were those of aruffian, conscious of the suspici
on attending his character, yet aimingto bear it down by the affectation of a careless and hardy familiarity.Mannering briefly rejected his proffered civilities; and, after a surlygood-morning, Hatteraick retired with the gipsy to that part of the ruinsfrom which he had first made his appearance. A very narrow staircase herewent down to the beach, intended probably for the convenience of thegarrison during a siege. By this stair the couple, equally amiable inappearance and respectable by profession, descended to the sea-side. Thesoi-disant captain embarked in a small boat with two men, who appeared towait for him, and the gipsy remained on the shore, reciting or singing,and gesticulating with great vehemence.
