Chronicles of the Canongate, 1st SeriesScott, Walter
General
Chronicles of the Canongate, 1st Series
Scott, Walter
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Scots -- Foreign countries -- Fiction
An hour’s brisk walking, or thereabouts, placed me in front of
Duntarkin, which had also, I found, undergone considerable alterations,
though it had not been altogether demolished like the principal
mansion. An inn-yard extended before the door of the decent little
jointure-house, even amidst the remnants of the holly hedges which had
screened the lady’s garden. Then a broad, raw-looking, new-made road
intruded itself up the little glen, instead of the old horseway, so
seldom used that it was almost entirely covered with grass. It is
a great enormity, of which gentlemen trustees on the highways are
sometimes guilty, in adopting the breadth necessary for an avenue to the
metropolis, where all that is required is an access to some sequestered
and unpopulous district. I do not say anything of the expense--that
the trustees and their constituents may settle as they please. But the
destruction of silvan beauty is great when the breadth of the road is
more than proportioned to the vale through which it runs, and lowers, of
course, the consequence of any objects of wood or water, or broken and
varied ground, which might otherwise attract notice and give pleasure.
A bubbling runnel by the side of one of those modern Appian or Flaminian
highways is but like a kennel; the little hill is diminished to a
hillock--the romantic hillock to a molehill, almost too small for sight.
Such an enormity, however, had destroyed the quiet loneliness of
Duntarkin, and intruded its breadth of dust and gravel, and its
associations of pochays and mail-coaches, upon one of the most
sequestered spots in the Middle Ward of Clydesdale. The house was
old and dilapidated, and looked sorry for itself, as if sensible of
a derogation; but the sign was strong and new, and brightly painted,
displaying a heraldic shield (three shuttles in a field diapre), a web
partly unfolded for crest, and two stout giants for supporters, each one
holding a weaver’s beam proper. To have displayed this monstrous emblem
on the front of the house might have hazarded bringing down the wall,
but for certain would have blocked up one or two windows. It was
therefore established independent of the mansion, being displayed in an
iron framework, and suspended upon two posts, with as much wood and
iron about it as would have builded a brig; and there it hung, creaking,
groaning, and screaming in every blast of wind, and frightening for five
miles’ distance, for aught I know, the nests of thrushes and linnets,
the ancient denizens of the little glen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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