按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
not for any worth of its own； but for the sake of the man whom it
purports dimly to represent and some of whose sayings it preserves；
so that in this volume of Memories and Portraits； Robert Young； the
Swanston gardener； may stand alongside of John Todd； the Swanston
shepherd。 Not that John and Robert drew very close together in
their lives； for John was rough； he smelt of the windy brae； and
Robert was gentle； and smacked of the garden in the hollow。
Perhaps it is to my shame that I liked John the better of the two；
he had grit and dash； and that salt of the Old Adam that pleases
men with any savage inheritance of blood； and he was a way…farer
besides； and took my gipsy fancy。 But however that may be； and
however Robert's profile may be blurred in the boyish sketch that
follows； he was a man of a most quaint and beautiful nature； whom；
if it were possible to recast a piece of work so old； I should like
well to draw again with a maturer touch。 And as I think of him and
of John； I wonder in what other country two such men would be found
dwelling together； in a hamlet of some twenty cottages； in the
woody fold of a green hill。
CHAPTER V。 AN OLD SCOTCH GARDENER
I THINK I might almost have said the last： somewhere； indeed； in
the uttermost glens of the Lammermuir or among the southwestern
hills there may yet linger a decrepid representative of this bygone
good fellowship； but as far as actual experience goes； I have only
met one man in my life who might fitly be quoted in the same breath
with Andrew Fairservice； … though without his vices。 He was a man
whose very presence could impart a savour of quaint antiquity to
the baldest and most modern flower…plots。 There was a dignity
about his tall stooping form； and an earnestness in his wrinkled
face that recalled Don Quixote； but a Don Quixote who had come
through the training of the Covenant； and been nourished in his
youth on WALKER'S LIVES and THE HIND LET LOOSE。
Now； as I could not bear to let such a man pass away with no sketch
preserved of his old…fashioned virtues； I hope the reader will take
this as an excuse for the present paper； and judge as kindly as he
can the infirmities of my description。 To me； who find it so
difficult to tell the little that I know； he stands essentially as
a GENIUS LOCI。 It is impossible to separate his spare form and old
straw hat from the garden in the lap of the hill； with its rocks
overgrown with clematis； its shadowy walks； and the splendid
breadth of champaign that one saw from the north…west corner。 The
garden and gardener seem part and parcel of each other。 When I
take him from his right surroundings and try to make him appear for
me on paper； he looks unreal and phantasmal： the best that I can
say may convey some notion to those that never saw him； but to me
it will be ever impotent。
The first time that I saw him； I fancy Robert was pretty old
already： he had certainly begun to use his years as a stalking
horse。 Latterly he was beyond all the impudencies of logic；
considering a reference to the parish register worth all the
reasons in the world； 〃I AM OLD AND WELL STRICKEN IN YEARS；〃 he was
wont to say； and I never found any one bold enough to answer the
argument。 Apart from this vantage that he kept over all who were
not yet octogenarian； he had some other drawbacks as a gardener。
He shrank the very place he cultivated。 The dignity and reduced
gentility of his appearance made the small garden cut a sorry
figure。 He was full of tales of greater situations in his younger
days。 He spoke of castles and parks with a humbling familiarity。
He told of places where under…gardeners had trembled at his looks；
where there were meres and swanneries； labyrinths of walk and
wildernesses of sad shrubbery in his control； till you could not
help feeling that it was condescension on his part to dress your
humbler garden plots。 You were thrown at once into an invidious
position。 You felt that you were profiting by the needs of
dignity； and that his poverty and not his will consented to your
vulgar rule。 Involuntarily you compared yourself with the
swineherd that made Alfred watch his cakes； or some bloated citizen
who may have given his sons and his condescension to the fallen
Dionysius。 Nor were the disagreeables purely fanciful and
metaphysical； for the sway that he exercised over your feelings he
extended to your garden； and； through the garden； to your diet。 He
would trim a hedge； throw away a favourite plant； or fill the most
favoured and fertile section of the garden with a vegetable that
none of us could eat； in supreme contempt for our opinion。 If you
asked him to send you in one of your own artichokes； 〃THAT I WULL；
MEM；〃 he would say； 〃WITH PLEASURE； FOR IT IS MAIR BLESSED TO GIVE
THAN TO RECEIVE。〃 Ay； and even when； by extra twisting of the
screw； we prevailed on him to prefer our commands to his own
inclination； and he went away； stately and sad； professing that
〃OUR WULL WAS HIS PLEASURE；〃 but yet reminding us that he would do
it 〃WITH FEELIN'S；〃 … even then； I say； the triumphant master felt
humbled in his triumph； felt that he ruled on sufferance only； that
he was taking a mean advantage of the other's low estate； and that
the whole scene had been one of those 〃slights that patient merit
of the unworthy takes。〃
In flowers his taste was old…fashioned and catholic； affecting
sunflowers and dahlias； wallflowers and roses and holding in
supreme aversion whatsoever was fantastic； new…fashioned or wild。
There was one exception to this sweeping ban。 Foxgloves； though
undoubtedly guilty on the last count； he not only spared； but
loved； and when the shrubbery was being thinned； he stayed his hand
and dexterously manipulated his bill in order to save every stately
stem。 In boyhood； as he told me once； speaking in that tone that
only actors and the old…fashioned common folk can use nowadays； his
heart grew 〃PROUD〃 within him when he came on a burn…course among
the braes of Manor that shone purple with their graceful trophies；
and not all his apprenticeship and practice for so many years of
precise gardening had banished these boyish recollections from his
heart。 Indeed； he was a man keenly alive to the beauty of all that
was bygone。 He abounded in old stories of his boyhood； and kept
pious account of all his former pleasures； and when he went （on a
holiday） to visit one of the fabled great places of the earth where
he had served before； he came back full of little pre…Raphaelite
reminiscences that showed real passion for the past； such as might
have shaken hands with Hazlitt or Jean…Jacques。
But however his sympathy with his old feelings might affect his
liking for the foxgloves； the very truth was that he scorned all
flowers together。 They were but garnishings； childish toys；