On the day appointed, the different members of the Grippy family
assembled at Kittlestonheugh. Mrs. Charles and her two children were
the last that arrived; and during the drive from Camrachle, both
James and Mary repeated many little instances of Walter’s kindness,
so lasting are the impressions of affection received in the artless
and heedless hours of childhood; and they again anticipated, from the
recollection of his good nature, a long summer day with him of frolic
and mirth.
But they were now several years older, and they had undergone that
unconscious change, by which, though the stores of memory are
unaltered, the moral being becomes another creature, and can no longer
feel towards the same object as it once felt. On alighting from the
carriage, they bounded with light steps and jocund hearts in quest of
their uncle; but, when they saw him sitting by himself in the garden,
they paused, and were disappointed.
They recognised in him the same person whom they formerly knew, but
they had heard he was daft; and they beheld him stooping forward, with
his hands sillily hanging between his knees; and he appeared melancholy
and helpless.
‘Uncle Watty,’ said James, compassionately, ‘what for are ye sitting
there alone?’
Watty looked up, and gazing at him vacantly for a few seconds, said,
‘’Cause naebody will sit wi’ me, for I’m a daft man.’ He then drooped
his head, and sank into the same listless posture in which they had
found him.
‘Do ye no ken me?’ said Mary.
He again raised his eyes, and alternately looked at them both, eagerly
and suspiciously. Mary appeared to have outgrown his recollection, for
he turned from her; but, after some time, he began to discover James;
and a smile of curious wonder gradually illuminated his countenance,
and developed itself into a broad grin of delight, as he said,--
‘What a heap o’ meat, Jamie Walkinshaw, ye maun hae eaten to mak you
sic a muckle laddie;’ and he drew the boy towards him to caress him as
he had formerly done; but the child, escaping from his hands, retired
several paces backward, and eyed him with pity, mingled with disgust.
Walter appeared struck with his look and movement; and again folding
his hands, dropped them between his knees, and hung his head, saying to
himself,--‘But I’m daft; naebody cares for me noo; I’m a cumberer o’
the ground, and a’ my Betty Bodles are ta’en away.’
The accent in which this was expressed touched the natural tenderness
of the little girl; and she went up to him, and said,--‘Uncle, I’m your
wee Betty Bodle; what for will ye no speak to me?’
His attention was again roused, and he took her by the hand, and,
gently stroking her head, said, ‘Ye’re a bonny flower, a lily-like
leddy, and leil in the heart and kindly in the e’e; but ye’re no
my Betty Bodle.’ Suddenly, however, something in the cast of her
countenance reminded him so strongly of her more childish appearance,
that he caught her in his arms, and attempted to dandle her; but the
action was so violent that it frightened the child, and she screamed,
and struggling out of his hands, ran away. James followed her; and
their attention being soon drawn to other objects, poor Walter was left
neglected by all during the remainder of the forenoon.
At dinner he was brought in and placed at the table, with one of the
children on each side; but he paid them no attention.
‘What’s come o’er thee, Watty?’ said his mother. ‘I thought ye would
hae been out o’ the body wi’ your Betty Bodle; but ye ne’er let on ye
see her.’
‘’Cause she’s like a’ the rest,’ said he sorrowfully. ‘She canna abide
me; for ye ken I’m daft--It’s surely an awfu’ leprosy this daftness,
that it gars every body flee me; but I canna help it--It’s no my fau’t,
but the Maker’s that made me, and the laws that found me guilty. But,
Geordie,’ he added, turning to his brother, ‘what’s the use o’ letting
me live in this world, doing nothing, and gude for naething?’
Mrs. Charles felt her heart melt within her at the despondency with
which this was said, and endeavoured to console him; he, however, took
no notice of her attentions, but sat seemingly absorbed in melancholy,
and heedless to the endeavours which even the compassionate children
made to induce him to eat.
‘No,’ said he; ‘I’ll no eat ony mair--it’s even down wastrie for sic
a useless set-by thing as the like o’ me to consume the fruits o’ the
earth. The cost o’ my keep would be a braw thing to Bell Fatherlans,
so I hope, Geordie, ye’ll mak it o’er to her; for when I gae hame I’ll
lie doun and die.’
‘Haud thy tongue, and no fright folk wi’ sic blethers,’ exclaimed his
mother; ‘but eat your dinner, and gang out to the green and play wi’
the weans.’
‘An I were na a daft creature, naebody would bid me play wi’ weans--and
the weans ken that I am sae, and mak a fool o’ me for’t--I dinna like
to be every body’s fool. I’m sure the law, when it found me guilty,
might hae alloot me a mair merciful punishment. Meg Wilcat, that stealt
Provost Murdoch’s cocket-hat, and was whippit for’t at the Cross, was
pitied wi’ many a watery e’e; but every body dauds and dings the daft
Laird o’ Grippy.’
‘Na! as I’m to be trusted,’ exclaimed the Leddy, ‘if I dinna think,
Geordie, that the creature’s coming to its senses again;’ and she added
laughing, ‘and what will come o’ your braw policy, and your planting
and plenishing? for ye’ll hae to gie’t back, and count in the Court to
the last bawbee for a’ the rental besides.’
George was never more at a loss than for an answer to parry this
thrust; but, fortunately for him, Walter rose and left the room,
and, as he had taken no dinner, his mother followed to remonstrate
with him against the folly of his conduct. Her exhortations and her
menaces were, however, equally ineffectual; the poor natural was not
to be moved; he felt his own despised and humiliated state; and the
expectation which he had formed of the pleasure he was to enjoy, in
again being permitted to caress and fondle his Betty Bodle, was so
bitterly disappointed, that it cut him to the heart. No persuasion, no
promise, could entice him to return to the dining-room; but a settled
and rivetted resolution to go back to Glasgow obliged his mother to
desist, and allow him to take his own way. He accordingly quitted the
house, and immediately on arriving at home went to bed. Overpowered
by the calls of hunger, he was next day allured to take some food;
and from day to day after, for several years, he was in the same
manner tempted to eat; but all power of volition, from the period of
the visit, appeared to have become extinct within him. His features
suffered a melancholy change, and he never spoke--nor did he seem to
recognize any one; but gradually, as it were, the whole of his mind and
intellect ebbed away, leaving scarcely the merest instincts of life.
But the woeful form which Nature assumes in the death-bed of fatuity
admonishes us to draw the curtain over the last scene of poor Watty.