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The Abbot

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> The Abbot




Women's wits are proverbially quick, but apparently those of Catherine
suggested no better expedient than fairly to betake herself to speed
of foot, in hopes of baffling the page's vivacity, by getting safely
lodged before he could discover where. But a youth of eighteen, in
pursuit of a mistress, is not so easily outstripped. Catherine fled
across a paved court, decorated with large formal vases of stone, in
which yews, cypresses, and other evergreens, vegetated in sombre
sullenness, and gave a correspondent degree of solemnity to the high
and heavy building in front of which they were placed as ornaments,
aspiring towards a square portion of the blue hemisphere,
corresponding exactly in extent to the quadrangle in which they were
stationed, and all around which rose huge black walls, exhibiting
windows in rows of five stories, with heavy architraves over each,
bearing armorial and religious devices.

Through this court Catherine Seyton flashed like a hunted doe, making
the best use of those pretty legs which had attracted the commendation
even of the reflective and cautious Adam Woodcock. She hastened
towards a large door in the centre of the lower front of the court,
pulled the bobbin till the latch flew up, and ensconced herself in the
ancient mansion. But, if she fled like a doe, Roland Graeme followed
with the speed and ardour of a youthful stag-hound, loosed for the
first time on his prey. He kept her in view in spite of her efforts;
for it is remarkable what an advantage, in such a race, the gallant
who desires to see, possesses over the maiden who wishes not to be
seen--an advantage which I have known counterbalance a great start in
point of distance. In short, he saw the waving of her screen, or veil,
at one corner, heard the tap of her foot, light as that was, as it
crossed the court, and caught a glimpse of her figure just as she
entered the door of the mansion.

Roland Graeme, inconsiderate and headlong as we have described him,
having no knowledge of real life but from the romances which he had
read, and not an idea of checking himself in the midst of any eager
impulse; possessed, besides, of much courage and readiness, never
hesitated for a moment to approach the door through which the object
of his search had disappeared. He, too, pulled the bobbin, and the
latch, though heavy and massive, answered to the summons, and arose.
The page entered with the same precipitation which had marked his
whole proceeding, and found himself in a large hall, or vestibule,
dimly enlightened by latticed casements of painted glass, and rendered
yet dimmer through the exclusion of the sunbeams, owing to the height
of the walls of those buildings by which the court-yard was enclosed.
The walls of the hall were surrounded with suits of ancient and rusted
armour, interchanged with huge and massive stone scutcheons, bearing
double tressures, fleured and counter-fleured, wheat-sheaves,
coronets, and so forth, things to which Roland Graeme gave not a
moment's attention.

In fact, he only deigned to observe the figure of Catherine Seyton,
who, deeming herself safe in the hall, had stopped to take breath
after her course, and was reposing herself for a moment on a large
oaken settle which stood at the upper end of the hall. The noise of
Roland's entrance at once disturbed her; she started up with a faint
scream of surprise, and escaped through one of the several
folding-doors which opened into this apartment as a common centre.
This door, which Roland Graeme instantly approached, opened on a large
and well-lighted gallery, at the upper end of which he could hear
several voices, and the noise of hasty steps approaching towards the
hall or vestibule. A little recalled to sober thought by an appearance
of serious danger, he was deliberating whether he should stand fast or
retire, when Catherine Seyton re-entered from a side door, running
towards him with as much speed as a few minutes since she had fled
from him.

"Oh, what mischief brought you hither?" she said; "fly--fly, or you
are a dead man,--or stay--they come--flight is impossible--say you
came to ask for Lord Seyton."

She sprung from him and disappeared through the door by which she had
made her second appearance; and, at the same instant, a pair of large
folding-doors at the upper end of the gallery flew open with
vehemence, and six or seven young gentlemen, richly dressed, pressed
forward into the apartment, having, for the greater part, their swords
drawn.

"Who is it," said one, "dare intrude on us in our own mansion?"

"Cut him to pieces," said another; "let him pay for this day's
insolence and violence--he is some follower of the Rothes."

"No, by Saint Mary," said another; "he is a follower of the arch-fiend
and ennobled clown Halbert Glendinning, who takes the style of
Avenel--once a church-vassal, now a pillager of the church."

"It is so," said a fourth; "I know him by the holly-sprig, which is
their cognizance. Secure the door, he must answer for this insolence."

Two of the gallants, hastily drawing their weapons, passed on to the
door by which Roland had entered the hall, and stationed themselves
there as if to prevent his escape. The others advanced on Graeme, who
had just sense enough to perceive that any attempt at resistance would
be alike fruitless and imprudent. At once, and by various voices, none
of which sounded amicably, the page was required to say who he was,
whence he came, his name, his errand, and who sent him hither. The
number of the questions demanded of him at once, afforded a momentary
apology for his remaining silent, and ere that brief truce had
elapsed, a personage entered the hall, at whose appearance those who
had gathered fiercely around Roland, fell back with respect.

This was a tall man, whose dark hair was already grizzled, though his
high and haughty features retained all the animation of youth. The
upper part of his person was undressed to his Holland shirt, whose
ample folds were stained with blood. But he wore a mantle of crimson,
lined with rich fur, cast around him, which supplied the deficiency of
his dress. On his head he had a crimson velvet bonnet, looped up on
one side with a small golden chain of many links, which, going thrice
around the hat, was fastened by a medal, agreeable to the fashion
amongst the grandees of the time.

"Whom have you here, sons and kinsmen," said he, "around whom you
crowd thus roughly?--Know you not that the shelter of this roof should
secure every one fair treatment, who shall come hither either in fair
peace, or in open and manly hostility?"

"But here, my lord," answered one of the youths, "is a knave who comes
on treacherous espial!"

"I deny the charge!" said Roland Graeme, boldly, "I came to inquire
after my Lord Seyton."

"A likely tale," answered his accusers, "in the mouth of a follower of
Glendinning."

"Stay, young men," said the Lord Seyton, for it was that nobleman
himself, "let me look at this youth--By heaven, it is the very same
who came so boldly to my side not very many minutes since, when some
of my own knaves bore themselves with more respect to their own
worshipful safety than to mine! Stand back from him, for he well
deserves honour and a friendly welcome at your hands, instead of this
rough treatment."

They fell back on all sides, obedient to Lord Seyton's commands, who,
taking Roland Graeme by the hand, thanked him for his prompt and
gallant assistance, adding, that he nothing doubted, "the same
interest which he had taken in his cause in the affray, brought him
hither to inquire after his hurt."

Roland bowed low in acquiescence.

"Or is there any thing in which I can serve you, to show my sense of
your ready gallantry?"

But the page, thinking it best to abide by the apology for his visit
which the Lord Seyton had so aptly himself suggested, replied, "that
to be assured of his lordship's safety, had been the only cause of his
intrusion. He judged," he added, "he had seen him receive some hurt in
the affray."

"A trifle," said Lord Seyton; "I had but stripped my doublet, that the
chirurgeon might put some dressing on the paltry scratch, when these
rash boys interrupted us with their clamour."

Roland Graeme, making a low obeisance, was now about to depart, for,
relieved from the danger of being treated as a spy, he began next to
fear, that his companion, Adam Woodcock, whom he had so
unceremoniously quitted, would either bring him into some farther
dilemma, by venturing into the hotel in quest of him, or ride off and
leave him behind altogether. But Lord Seyton did not permit him to
escape so easily. "Tarry," he said, "young man, and let me know thy
rank and name. The Seyton has of late been more wont to see friends
and followers shrink from his side, than to receive aid from
strangers-but a new world may come around, in which he may have the
chance of rewarding his well-wishers."

"My name is Roland Graeme, my lord," answered the youth, "a page,
who, for the present, is in the service of Sir Halbert Glendinning."

"I said so from the first," said one of the young men; "my life I
will wager, that this is a shaft out of the heretic's quiver-a
stratagem from first to last, to injeer into your confidence some
espial of his own. They know how to teach both boys and women to play
the intelligencers."

"That is false, if it be spoken of me," said Roland; "no man in
Scotland should teach me such a foul part!"

"I believe thee, boy," said Lord Seyton, "for thy strokes were too
fair to be dealt upon an understanding with those that were to receive
them. Credit me, however, I little expected to have help at need from
one of your master's household; and I would know what moved thee in my
quarrel, to thine own endangering?"

"So please you, my lord," said Roland, "I think my master himself
would not have stood by, and seen an honourable man borne to earth by
odds, if his single arm could help him. Such, at least, is the lesson
we were taught in chivalry, at the Castle of Avenel."

"The good seed hath fallen into good ground, young man," said Seyton;
"but, alas! if thou practise such honourable war in these
dishonourable days, when right is every where borne down by mastery,
thy life, my poor boy, will be but a short one."

"Let it be short, so it be honourable," said Roland Graeme; "and
permit me now, my lord, to commend me to your grace, and to take my
leave. A comrade waits with my horse in the street."

"Take this, however, young man," said Lord Seyton,

[Footnote: George, fifth Lord Seton, was immovably faithful to Queen
Mary during all the mutabilities of her fortune. He was grand master
of the household, in which capacity he had a picture painted of
himself, with his official baton, and the following motto:

In adversitate, patiens;
In prosperitate, benevolus.
Hazard, yet forward.

On various parts of his castle he inscribed, as expressing his
religious and political creed, the legend:

Un Dieu, un Foy, un Roy, un Loy.

He declined to be promoted to an earldom, which Queen Mary offered him
at the same time when she advanced her natural brother to be Earl of
Mar, and afterwards of Murray.

On his refusing this honour, Mary wrote, or caused to be written, the
following lines in Latin and French:

Sunt comites, ducesque alii; sunt denique reges;
Sethom dominum sit satis esse mihi.

Il y a des comptes, des roys, des ducs; ainsi
C'est assez pour moy d'estre Seigneur de Seton.

Which may be thus rendered:--

Earl, duke, or king, be thou that list to be:
Seton, thy lordship is enough for me.

This distich reminds us of the "pride which aped humility," in the
motto of the house of Couci:

Je suis ni roy, ni prince aussi;
Je suis le Seigneur de Coucy.

After the battle of Langside, Lord Seton was obliged to retire abroad
for safety, and was an exile for two years, during which he was
reduced to the necessity of driving a waggon in Flanders for his
subsistence. He rose to favour in James VI's reign, and assuming his
paternal property, had himself painted in his waggoner's dress, and in
the act of driving a wain with four horses, on the north end of a
stately gallery at Seton Castle]

undoing from his bonnet the golden chain and medal, "and wear it for
my sake."

With no little pride Roland Graeme accepted the gift, which he hastily
fastened around his bonnet, as he had seen gallants wear such an
ornament, and renewing his obeisance to the Baron, left the hall,
traversed the court, and appeared in the street, just as Adam
Woodcock, vexed and anxious at his delay, had determined to leave the
horses to their fate, and go in quest of his youthful comrade. "Whose
barn hast thou broken next?" he exclaimed, greatly relieved by his
appearance, although his countenance indicated that he had passed
through an agitating scene.

"Ask me no questions," said Roland, leaping gaily on his horse; "but
see how short time it takes to win a chain of gold," pointing to that
which he now wore.

"Now, God forbid that thou hast either stolen it, or reft it by
violence," said the falconer; "for, otherwise, I wot not how the devil
thou couldst compass it. I have been often here, ay, for months at an
end, and no one gave me either chain or medal."

"Thou seest I have got one on shorter acquaintance with the city,"
answered the page, "but set thine honest heart at rest; that which is
fairly won and freely given, is neither reft nor stolen."

"Marry, hang thee, with thy fanfarona [Footnote: A name given to the
gold chains worn by the military men of the period. It is of Spanish
origin: for the fashion of wearing these costly ornaments was much
followed amongst the conquerors of the New World.] about thy neck!"
said the falconer; "I think water will not drown, nor hemp strangle
thee. Thou hast been discarded as my lady's page, to come in again as
my lord's squire; and for following a noble young damsel into some
great household, thou gettest a chain and medal, where another would
have had the baton across his shoulders, if he missed having the dirk
in his body. But here we come in front of the old Abbey. Bear thy good
luck with you when you cross these paved stones, and, by our Lady, you
may brag Scotland."

As he spoke, they checked their horses, where the huge old vaulted
entrance to the Abbey or Palace of Holyrood crossed the termination of
the street down which they had proceeded. The courtyard of the palace
opened within this gloomy porch, showing the front of an irregular
pile of monastic buildings, one wing of which is still extant, forming
a part of the modern palace, erected in the days of Charles I.

At the gate of the porch the falconer and page resigned their horses
to the serving-man in attendance; the falconer commanding him with an
air of authority, to carry them safely to the stables. "We follow," he
said, "the Knight of Avenel--We must bear ourselves for what we are
here," said he in a whisper to Roland, "for every one here is looked
on as they demean themselves; and he that is too modest must to the
wall, as the proverb says; therefore cock thy bonnet, man, and let us
brook the causeway bravely."

Assuming, therefore, an air of consequence, corresponding to what he
supposed to be his master's importance and quality, Adam Woodcock led
the way into the courtyard of the Palace of Holyrood.

He appears to have been fond of the arts; for there exists a beautiful
family-piece of him in the centre of his family. Mr. Pinkerton, in his
Scottish Iconographia, published an engraving of this curious
portrait. The original is the property of Lord Somerville, nearly
connected with the Seton family, and is at present at his lordship's
fishing villa of the Pavilion, near Melrose.




Chapter the Eighteenth.


--The sky is clouded, Gaspard,
And the vexed ocean sleeps a troubled sleep,
Beneath a lurid gleam of parting sunshine.
Such slumber hangs o'er discontented lands,
While factions doubt, as yet, if they have strength
To front the open battle.
ALBION--A POEM.

The youthful page paused on the entrance of the court-yard, and
implored his guide to give him a moment's breathing space. "Let me but
look around me, man," said he; "you consider not I have never seen
such a scene as this before.--And this is Holyrood--the resort of the
gallant and gay, and the fair, and the wise, and the powerful!"

"Ay, marry, is it!" said Woodcock; "but I wish I could hood thee as
they do the hawks, for thou starest as wildly as if you sought another
fray or another fanfarona. I would I had thee safely housed, for thou
lookest wild as a goss-hawk."

It was indeed no common sight to Roland, the vestibule of a palace
traversed by its various groups,--some radiant with gaiety--some
pensive, and apparently weighed down by affairs concerning the state,
or concerning themselves. Here the hoary statesman, with his cautious
yet commanding look, his furred cloak and sable pantoufles; there the
soldier in buff and steel, his long sword jarring against the
pavement, and his whiskered upper lip and frowning brow, looking an
habitual defiance of danger, which perhaps was not always made good;
there again passed my lord's serving-man, high of heart, and bloody of
hand, humble to his master and his master's equals, insolent to all
others. To these might be added, the poor suitor, with his anxious
look and depressed mien--the officer, full of his brief authority,
elbowing his betters, and possibly his benefactors, out of the
road--the proud priest, who sought a better benefice--the proud baron,
who sought a grant of church lands--the robber chief, who came to
solicit a pardon for the injuries he had inflicted on his
neighbors--the plundered franklin, who came to seek vengeance for that
which he had himself received. Besides there was the mustering and
disposition of guards and soldiers--the despatching of messengers,
and the receiving them--the trampling and neighing of horses without
the gate--the flashing of arms, and rustling of plumes, and jingling
of spurs, within it. In short, it was that gay and splendid confusion,
in which the eye of youth sees all that is brave and brilliant, and
that of experience much that is doubtful, deceitful, false, and
hollow--hopes that will never be gratified--promises which will never
be fulfilled--pride in the disguise of humility--and insolence in that
of frank and generous bounty.

As, tired of the eager and enraptured attention which the page gave to
a scene so new to him, Adam Woodcock endeavoured to get him to move
forward, before his exuberance of astonishment should attract the
observation of the sharp-witted denizens of the court, the falconer
himself became an object of attention to a gay menial in a dark-green
bonnet and feather, with a cloak of a corresponding colour, laid down,
as the phrase then went, by six broad bars of silver lace, and welted
with violet and silver. The words of recognition burst from both at
once. "What! Adam Woodcock at court!" and "What! Michael
Wing-the-wind--and how runs the hackit greyhound bitch now?"

"The waur for the wear, like ourselves, Adam--eight years this grass
--no four legs will carry a dog forever; but we keep her for the
breed, and so she 'scapes Border doom--But why stand you gazing there?
I promise you my lord has wished for you, and asked for you."

"My Lord of Murray asked for me, and he Regent of the kingdom too!"
said Adam. "I hunger and thirst to pay my duty to my good lord;--but I
fancy his good lordship remembers the day's sport on Carnwath-moor;
and my Drummelzier falcon, that beat the hawks from the Isle of Man,
and won his lordship a hundred crowns from the Southern baron whom
they called Stanley."

"Nay, not to flatter thee, Adam," said his court-friend, "he remembers
nought of thee, or of thy falcon either. He hath flown many a higher
flight since that, and struck his quarry too. But come, come hither
away; I trust we are to be good comrades on the old score."

"What!" said Adam, "you would have me crush a pot with you; but I must
first dispose of my eyas, where he will neither have girl to chase,
nor lad to draw sword upon."

"Is the youngster such a one?" said Michael.

"Ay, by my hood, he flies at all game," replied Woodcock.

"Then had he better come with us," said Michael Wing-the-wind; "for we
cannot have a proper carouse just now, only I would wet my lips, and
so must you. I want to hear the news from Saint Mary's before you see
my lord, and I will let you know how the wind sits up yonder."

While he thus spoke, he led the way to a side door which opened into
the court; and threading several dark passages with the air of one who
knew the most secret recesses of the palace, conducted them to a small
matted chamber, where he placed bread and cheese and a foaming flagon
of ale before the falconer and his young companion, who immediately
did justice to the latter in a hearty draught, which nearly emptied
the measure. Having drawn his breath, and dashed the froth from his
whiskers, he observed, that his anxiety for the boy had made him
deadly dry.

"Mend your draught," said his hospitable friend, again supplying the
flagon from a pitcher which stood beside. "I know the way to the
butterybar. And now, mind what I say--this morning the Earl of Morton
came to my lord in a mighty chafe."

"What! they keep the old friendship, then?" said Woodcock.

"Ay, ay, man, what else?" said Michael; "one hand must scratch the
other. But in a mighty chafe was my Lord of Morton, who, to say truth,
looketh on such occasions altogether uncanny, and, as it were,
fiendish; and he says to my lord,--for I was in the chamber taking
orders about a cast of hawks that are to be fetched from
Darnoway--they match your long-winged falcons, friend Adam."

"I will believe that when I see them fly as high a pitch," replied
Woodcock, this professional observation forming a sort of parenthesis.

"However," said Michael, pursuing his tale, "my Lord of Morton, in a
mighty chafe, asked my Lord Regent whether he was well dealt
with--'for my brother,' said he, 'should have had a gift to be
Commendator of Kennaqubair, and to have all the temporalities erected
into a lordship of regality for his benefit; and here,' said he, 'the
false monks have had the insolence to choose a new Abbot to put his
claim in my brother's way; and moreover, the rascality of the
neighbourhood have burnt and plundered all that was left in the Abbey,
so that my brother will not have a house to dwell in, when he hath
ousted the lazy hounds of priests.' And my lord, seeing him chafed,
said mildly to him, 'These are shrewd tidings, Douglas, but I trust
they be not true; for Halbert Glendinning went southward yesterday,
with a band of spears, and assuredly, had either of these chances
happened, that the monks had presumed to choose an Abbot, or that the
Abbey had been burnt, as you say, he had taken order on the spot for
the punishment of such insolence, and had despatched us a messenger.'
And the Earl of Morton replied--now I pray you, Adam, to notice, that
I say this out of love to you and your lord, and also for old
comradeship, and also because Sir Halbert hath done me good, and may
again--and also because I love not the Earl of Morton, as indeed more
fear than like him--so then it were a foul deed in you to betray
me.--'But,' said the Earl to the Regent, 'take heed, my lord, you
trust not this Glendinning too far--he comes of churl's blood, which
was never true to the nobles'--by Saint Andrew, these were his very
words.--'And besides,' he said, 'he hath a brother, a monk in Saint
Mary's, and walks all by his guidance, and is making friends on the
Border with Buccleuch and with Ferniehirst, [Footnote: Both these
Border Chieftains were great friends of Queen Mary.] and will join
hand with them, were there likelihood of a new world.' And my lord
answered, like a free noble lord as he is; 'Tush! my Lord of Morton, I
will be warrant for Glendinning's faith; and for his brother, he is a
dreamer, that thinks of nought but book and breviary--and if such hap
have chanced as you tell of, I look to receive from Glendinning the
cowl of a hanged monk, and the head of a riotous churl, by way of
sharp and sudden justice.'--And my Lord of Morton left the place, and,
as it seemed to me, somewhat malecontent. But since that time, my lord
has asked me more than once whether there has arrived no messenger
from the Knight of Avenel. And all this I have told you, that you may
frame your discourse to the best purpose, for it seems to me that my
lord will not be well-pleased, if aught has happened like what my Lord
of Morton said, and if your lord hath not ta'en strict orders with
it."

There was something in this communication which fairly blanked the
bold visage of Adam Woodcock, in spite of the reinforcement which his
natural hardihood had received from the berry-brown ale of Holyrood.

"What was it he said about a churl's head, that grim Lord of Morton?"
said the discontented falconer to his friend.

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