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The Abbot

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> The Abbot




"Follow me, then," said Henderson, "and we will seek the Lady
Lochleven."

They found her at breakfast with her grandson George Douglas.--"Peace
be with your ladyship!" said the preacher, bowing to his patroness;
"Roland Graeme awaits your order."

"Young man," said the lady, "our chaplain hath warranted for thy
fidelity, and we are determined to give you certain errands to do for
us in our town of Kinross."

"Not by my advice," said Douglas, coldly.

"I said not that it was," answered the lady, something sharply. "The
mother of thy father may, I should think, be old enough to judge for
herself in a matter so simple.--Thou wilt take the skiff, Roland, and
two of my people, whom Dryfesdale or Randal will order out, and fetch
off certain stuff of plate and hangings, which should last night be
lodged at Kinross by the wains from Edinburgh."

"And give this packet," said George Douglas, "to a servant of ours,
whom you will find in waiting there.--It is the report to my father,"
he added, looking towards his grandmother, who acquiesced by bending
her head.

"I have already mentioned to Master Henderson," said Roland Graeme,
"that as my duty requires my attendance on the Queen, her Grace's
permission for my journey ought to be obtained before I can undertake
your commission."

"Look to it, my son," said the old lady, "the scruple of the youth is
honourable."

"Craving your pardon, madam, I have no wish to force myself on her
presence thus early," said. Douglas, in an indifferent tone; "it might
displease her, and were no way agreeable to me."

"And I," said the Lady Lochleven, "although her temper hath been more
gentle of late, have no will to undergo, without necessity, the
rancour of her wit."

"Under your permission, madam," said the chaplain, "I will myself
render your request to the Queen. During my long residence in this
house she hath not deigned to see me in private, or to hear my
doctrine; yet so may Heaven prosper my labours, as love for her soul,
and desire to bring her into the right path, was my chief desire for
coming hither."

"Take care, Master Henderson," said Douglas, in a tone which seemed
almost sarcastic, "lest you rush hastily on an adventure to which you
have no vocation--you are learned, and know the adage, _Ne
accesseris in consilium nisi vocatus_.--Who hath required this at
your hand?"

"The Master to whose service I am called," answered the preacher,
looking upward,--"He who hath commanded me to be earnest in season and
out of season."

"Your acquaintance hath not been much, I think, with courts or
princes," continued the young Esquire.

"No, sir," replied Henderson, "but like my Master Knox, I see nothing
frightful in the fair face of a pretty lady."

"My son," said the Lady of Lochleven, "quench not the good man's zeal
--let him do the errand to this unhappy Princess."

"With more willingness than I would do it myself," said George
Douglas. Yet something in his manner appeared to contradict his
words.

The minister went accordingly, followed by Roland Graeme, and,
demanding an audience of the imprisoned Princess, was admitted. He
found her with her ladies engaged in the daily task of embroidery. The
Queen received him with that courtesy, which, in ordinary cases, she
used towards all who approached her, and the clergyman, in opening his
commission, was obviously somewhat more embarrassed than he had
expected to be.--"The good Lady of Lochleven--may it please your
Grace--"

He made a short pause, during which Mary said, with a smile, "My Grace
would, in truth, be well pleased, were the Lady Lochleven our
_good_ lady--But go on--what is the will of the good Lady of
Lochleven?"

"She desires, madam," said the chaplain, "that your Grace will permit
this young gentleman, your page, Roland Graeme, to pass to Kinross, to
look after some household stuff and hangings, sent hither for the
better furnishing your Grace's apartments."

"The Lady of Lochleven," said the Queen, "uses needless ceremony, in
requesting our permission for that which stands within her own
pleasure. We well know that this young gentleman's attendance on us
had not been so long permitted, were he not thought to be more at the
command of that good lady than at ours.--But we cheerfully yield
consent that he shall go on her errand--with our will we would doom no
living creature to the captivity which we ourselves must suffer."

"Ay, madam," answered the preacher, "and it is doubtless natural for
humanity to quarrel with its prison-house. Yet there have been those,
who have found, that time spent in the house of temporal captivity may
be so employed as to redeem us from spiritual slavery."

"I apprehend your meaning, sir," replied the Queen, "but I have heard
your apostle--I have heard Master John Knox; and were I to be
perverted, I would willingly resign to the ablest and most powerful of
heresiarchs, the poor honour he might acquire by overcoming my faith
and my hope."

"Madam," said the preacher, "it is not to the talents or skill of the
husbandman that God gives the increase--the words which were offered
in vain by him whom you justly call our apostle, during the bustle and
gaiety of a court, may yet find better acceptance during the leisure
for reflection which this place affords. God knows, lady, that I speak
in singleness of heart, as one who would as soon compare himself to
the immortal angels, as to the holy man whom you have named. Yet would
you but condescend to apply to their noblest use, those talents and
that learning which all allow you to be possessed of--would you afford
us but the slightest hope that you would hear and regard what can be
urged against the blinded superstition and idolatry in which you are
brought up, sure am I, that the most powerfully-gifted of my brethren,
that even John Knox himself, would hasten hither, and account the
rescue of your single soul from the nets of Romish error--"

"I am obliged to you and to them for their charity," said Mary; "but
as I have at present but one presence-chamber, I would reluctantly see
it converted into a Huguenot synod."

"At least, madam, be not thus obstinately blinded in your errors! Hear
one who has hungered and thirsted, watched and prayed, to undertake
the good work of your conversion, and who would be content to die the
instant that a work so advantageous for yourself and so beneficial to
Scotland were accomplished--Yes, lady, could I but shake the remaining
pillar of the heathen temple in this land--and that permit me to term
your faith in the delusions of Rome--I could be content to die
overwhelmed in the ruins!"

"I will not insult your zeal, sir," replied Mary, "by saying you are
more likely to make sport for the Philistines than to overwhelm
them--your charity claims my thanks, for it is warmly expressed and
may be truly purposed--But believe as well of me as I am willing to
do of you, and think that I may be as anxious to recall you to the
ancient and only road, as you are to teach me your new by-ways to
paradise."

"Then, madam, if such be your generous purpose," said Henderson,
eagerly, "--what hinders that we should dedicate some part of that
time, unhappily now too much at your Grace's disposal, to discuss a
question so weighty? You, by report of all men, are both learned and
witty; and I, though without such advantages, am strong in my cause as
in a tower of defence. Why should we not spend some space in
endeavouring to discover which of us hath the wrong side in this
important matter?"

"Nay," said Queen Mary, "I never alleged my force was strong enough to
accept of a combat _en champ clos_, with a scholar and a polemic.
Besides, the match is not equal. You, sir, might retire when you felt
the battle go against you, while I am tied to the stake, and have no
permission to say the debate wearies me.--I would be alone."

She curtsied low to him as she uttered these words; and Henderson,
whose zeal was indeed ardent, but did not extend to the neglect of
delicacy, bowed in return, and prepared to withdraw.

"I would," he said, "that my earnest wish, my most zealous prayer,
could procure to your Grace any blessing or comfort, but especially
that in which alone blessing or comfort is, as easily as the slightest
intimation of your wish will remove me from your presence."

He was in the act of departing, when Mary said to him with much
courtesy, "Do me no injury in your thoughts, good sir; it may be, that
if my time here be protracted longer--as surely I hope it will not,
trusting that either my rebel subjects will repent of their
disloyalty, or that my faithful lieges will obtain the upper hand--but
if my time be here protracted, it may be I shall have no displeasure
in hearing one who seems so reasonable and compassionate as yourself,
and I may hazard your contempt by endeavouring to recollect and repeat
the reasons which schoolmen and councils give for the faith that is in
me,--although I fear that, God help me! my Latin has deserted me with
my other possessions. This must, however, be for another day.
Meanwhile, sir, let the Lady of Lochleven employ my page as she
lists--I will not afford suspicion by speaking a word to him before he
goes.--Roland Graeme, my friend, lose not an opportunity of amusing
thyself--dance, sing, run, and leap--all may be done merrily on the
mainland; but he must have more than quicksilver in his veins who
would frolic here."

"Alas! madam," said the preacher, "to what is it you exhort the youth,
while time passes, and eternity summons? Can our salvation be insured
by idle mirth, or our good work wrought out without fear and
trembling?"

"I cannot fear or tremble," replied the Queen; "to Mary Stewart such
emotions are unknown. But if weeping and sorrow on my part will atone
for the boy's enjoying an hour of boyish pleasure, be assured the
penance shall be duly paid."

"Nay, but, gracious lady," said the preacher, "in this you greatly
err;--our tears and our sorrows are all too little for our own faults
and follies, nor can we transfer them, as your church falsely teaches,
to the benefit of others."

"May I pray you, sir," answered the Queen, "with as little offence as
such a prayer may import, to transfer yourself elsewhere? We are sick
at heart, and may not now be disposed with farther controversy--and
thou, Roland, take this little purse;" (then, turning to the divine,
she said, showing its contents,) "Look, reverend sir,--it contains
only these two or three gold testoons, a coin which, though bearing my
own poor features, I have ever found more active against me than on my
side, just as my subjects take arms against me, with my own name for
their summons and signal.--Take this purse, that thou mayest want no
means of amusement. Fail not--fail not to bring met back news from
Kinross; only let it be such as, without suspicion or offence, may be
told in the presence of this reverend gentleman, or of the good Lady
Lochleven herself."

The last hint was too irresistible to be withstood; and Henderson
withdrew, half mortified, half pleased, with his reception; for Mary,
from long habit, and the address which was natural to her, had
learned, in an extraordinary degree, the art of evading discourse
which was disagreeable to her feelings or prejudices, without
affronting those by whom it was proffered.

Roland Graeme retired with the chaplain, at a signal from his lady;
but it did not escape him, that as he left the room, stepping
backwards, and making the deep obeisance due to royalty, Catherine
Seyton held up her slender forefinger, with a gesture which he alone
could witness, and which seemed to say, "Remember what has passed
betwixt us."

The young page had now his last charge from the Lady of Lochleven.
"There are revels," she said, "this day at the village--my son's
authority is, as yet, unable to prevent these continued workings of
the ancient leaven of folly which the Romish priests have kneaded into
the very souls of the Scottish peasantry. I do not command thee to
abstain from them--that would be only to lay a snare for thy folly, or
to teach thee falsehood; but enjoy these vanities with moderation, and
mark them as something thou must soon learn to renounce and contemn.
Our chamberlain at Kinross, Luke Lundin,--Doctor, as he foolishly
calleth himself,--will acquaint thee what is to be done in the matter
about which thou goest. Remember thou art trusted--show thyself,
therefore, worthy of trust."

When we recollect that Roland Graeme was not yet nineteen, and that he
had spent his whole life in the solitary Castle of Avenel, excepting
the few hours he had passed in Edinburgh, and his late residence at
Lochleven, (the latter period having very little served to enlarge his
acquaintance with the gay world.) we cannot wonder that his heart
beat, high with hope and curiosity, at the prospect of partaking the
sport even of a country wake. He hastened to his little cabin, and
turned over the wardrobe with which (in every respect becoming his
station) he had been supplied from Edinburgh, probably by order of the
Earl of Murray. By the Queen's command he had hitherto waited upon her
in mourning, or at least in sad-coloured raiment. Her condition, she
said, admitted of nothing more gay. But now he selected the gayest
dress his wardrobe afforded; composed of scarlet slashed with black
satin, the royal colours of Scotland--combed his long curled hair--
disposed his chain and medal round a beaver hat of the newest block;
and with the gay falchion which had reached him in so mysterious a
manner, hung by his side in an embroidered belt, his apparel, added to
his natural frank mien and handsome figure, formed a most commendable
and pleasing specimen of the young gallant of the period. He sought to
make his parting reverence to the Queen and her ladies, but old
Dryfesdale hurried him to the boat.

"We will have no private audiences," he said, "my master; since you
are to be trusted with somewhat, we will try at least to save thee
from the temptation of opportunity. God help thee, child," he added,
with a glance of contempt at his gay clothes, "an the bear-ward be
yonder from Saint Andrews, have a care thou go not near him."

"And wherefore, I pray you?" said Roland.

"Lest he take thee for one of his runaway jackanapes," answered the
steward, smiling sourly.

"I wear not my clothes at thy cost," said Roland indignantly.

"Nor at thine own either, my son" replied the steward, "else would thy
garb more nearly resemble thy merit and thy station."

Roland Graeme suppressed with difficulty the repartee which arose to
his lips, and, wrapping his scarlet mantle around him, threw himself
into the boat, which two rowers, themselves urged by curiosity to see
the revels, pulled stoutly towards the west end of the lake. As they
put off, Roland thought he could discover the face of Catherine
Seyton, though carefully withdrawn from observation, peeping from a
loophole to view his departure. He pulled off his hat, and held it up
as a token that he saw and wished her adieu. A white kerchief waved
for a second across the window, and for the rest of the little voyage,
the thoughts of Catherine Seyton disputed ground in his breast with
the expectations excited by the approaching revel. As they drew nearer
and nearer the shore, the sounds of mirth and music, the laugh, the
halloo, and the shout, came thicker upon the ear, and in a trice the
boat was moored, and Roland Graeme hastened in quest of the
chamberlain, that, being informed what time he had at his own
disposal, he might lay it out to the best advantage.




Chapter the Twenty-Sixth.


Room for the master of the ring, ye swains,
Divide your crowded ranks--before him march
The rural minstrelsy, the rattling drum,
The clamorous war-pipe, and far-echoing horn.
_Rural Sports_.--SOMERVILLE.

No long space intervened ere Roland Graeme was able to discover among
the crowd of revellers, who gambolled upon the open space which
extends betwixt the village and the lake, a person of so great
importance as Dr. Luke Lundin, upon whom devolved officially the
charge of representing the lord of the land, and who was attended for
support of his authority by a piper, a drummer, and four sturdy clowns
armed with rusty halberds, garnished with party-coloured ribbons;
myrmidons who, early as the day was, had already broken more than one
head in the awful names of the Laird of Lochleven and his chamberlain.

[Footnote: At Scottish fairs, the bailie, or magistrate, deputed by
the lord in whose name the meeting is held, attends the fair with his
guard, decides trifling disputes, and punishes on the spot any petty
delinquencies. His attendants are usually armed with halberds, and
sometimes, at least, escorted by music. Thus, in the "Life and Death
of Habbie Simpson," we are told of that famous minstrel,--

"At fairs he play'd before the spear-men,
And gaily graithed in their gear-men;--
Steel bonnets, jacks, and swords shone clear then,
Like ony bead;
Now wha shall play before sic weir-men,
Since Habbie's dead! ]

As soon as this dignitary was informed that the castle skiff had
arrived, with a gallant, dressed like a lord's son at the least, who
desired presently to speak to him, he adjusted his ruff and his black
coat, turned round his girdle till the garnished hilt of his long
rapier became visible, and walked with due solemnity towards the
beach. Solemn indeed he was entitled to be, even on less important
occasions, for he had been bred to the venerable study of medicine, as
those acquainted with the science very soon discovered from the
aphorisms which ornamented his discourse. His success had not been
equal to his pretensions; but as he was a native of the neighbouring
kingdom of Fife, and bore distant relation to, or dependence upon, the
ancient family of Lundin of that Ilk, who were bound in close
friendship with the house of Lochleven, he had, through their
interest, got planted comfortably enough in his present station upon
the banks of that beautiful lake. The profits of his chamberlainship
being moderate, especially in those unsettled times, he had eked it
out a little with some practice in his original profession; and it was
said that the inhabitants of the village and barony of Kinross were
not more effectually thirled (which may be translated enthralled) to
the baron's mill, than they were to the medical monopoly of the
chamberlain. Wo betide the family of the rich boor, who presumed to
depart this life without a passport from Dr. Luke Lundin! for if his
representatives had aught to settle with the baron, as it seldom
happened otherwise, they were sure to find a cold friend in the
chamberlain. He was considerate enough, however, gratuitously to help
the poor out of their ailments, and sometimes out of all their other
distresses at the same time.

Formal, in a double proportion, both as a physician and as a person in
office, and proud of the scraps of learning which rendered his
language almost universally unintelligible, Dr. Luke Lundin approached
the beach, and hailed the page as he advanced towards him.--"The
freshness of the morning upon you, fair sir--You are sent, I warrant
me, to see if we observe here the regimen which her good ladyship hath
prescribed, for eschewing all superstitious observances and idle
anilities in these our revels. I am aware that her good ladyship would
willingly have altogether abolished and abrogated them--But as I had
the honour to quote to her from the works of the learned Hercules of
Saxony, _omnis curatio est vel canonica vel coacta_,--that is,
fair sir, (for silk and velvet have seldom their Latin _ad
unguem_,) every cure must be wrought either by art and induction of
rule, or by constraint; and the wise physician chooseth the former.
Which argument her ladyship being pleased to allow well of, I have
made it my business so to blend instruction and caution with
delight--_fiat mixtio_, as we say--that I can answer that the
vulgar mind will be defecated and purged of anile and Popish fooleries
by the medicament adhibited, so that the _primae vice_ being
cleansed, Master Henderson, or any other able pastor, may at will
throw in tonics, and effectuate a perfect moral cure, _tuto, cito,
jucunde_."

"I have no charge, Dr. Lundin," replied the page--

"Call me not doctor," said the chamberlain, "since I have laid aside
my furred gown and bonnet, and retired me into this temporality of
chamberlainship."

"Oh, sir," said the page, who was no stranger by report to the
character of this original, "the cowl makes not the monk, neither the
cord the friar--we have all heard of the cures wrought by Dr.
Lundin."

"Toys, young sir--trifles," answered the leech with grave disclamation
of superior skill; "the hit-or-miss practice of a poor retired
gentleman, in a short cloak and doublet--Marry, Heaven sent its
blessing--and this I must say, better fashioned mediciners have
brought fewer patients through--_lunga roba corta scienzia_,
saith the Italian--ha, fair sir, you have the language?"

Roland Graeme did not think it necessary to expound to this learned
Theban whether he understood him or no; but, leaving that matter
uncertain, he told him he came in quest of certain packages which
should have arrived at Kinross, and been placed under the
chamberlain's charge the evening before.

"Body o' me!" said Doctor Lundin, "I fear our common carrier, John
Auchtermuchty, hath met with some mischance, that he came not up last
night with his wains--bad land this to journey in, my master; and the
fool will travel by night too, although, (besides all maladies from
your _tussis_ to your _pestis_, which walk abroad in the
night-air,) he may well fall in with half a dozen swash-bucklers, who
will ease him at once of his baggage and his earthly complaints. I
must send forth to inquire after him, since he hath stuff of the
honourable household on hand--and, by our Lady, he hath stuff of mine
too--certain drugs sent me from the city for composition of my
alexipharmics--this gear must be looked to.--Hodge," said he,
addressing one of his redoubted body-guard, "do thou and Toby Telford
take the mickle brown aver and the black cut-tailed mare, and make out
towards the Kerry-craigs, and see what tidings you can have of
Auchtermuchty and his wains--I trust it is only the medicine of the
pottle-pot, (being the only _medicamentum_ which the beast
useth,) which hath caused him to tarry on the road. Take the ribbons
from your halberds, ye knaves, and get on your jacks, plate-sleeves,
and knapskulls, that your presence may work some terror if you meet
with opposers." He then added, turning to Roland Graeme, "I warrant
me, we shall have news of the wains in brief season. Meantime it will
please you to look upon the sports; but first to enter my poor lodging
and take your morning's cup. For what saith the school of Salerno?

_Poculum, mane haustum,
Restaurat naturam exhaustam."_

"Your learning is too profound for me," replied the page; "and so
would your draught be likewise, I fear."

"Not a whit, fair sir--a cordial cup of sack, impregnated with
wormwood, is the best anti-pestilential draught; and, to speak truth,
the pestilential miasmata are now very rife in the atmosphere. We live
in a happy time, young man," continued he, in a tone of grave irony,
"and have many blessings unknown to our fathers--Here are two
sovereigns in the land, a regnant and a claimant--that is enough of
one good thing--but if any one wants more, he may find a king in every
peel-house in the country; so if we lack government, it is not for
want of governors. Then have we a civil war to phlebotomize us every
year, and to prevent our population from starving for want of
food--and for the same purpose we have the Plague proposing us a
visit, the best of all recipes for thinning a land, and converting
younger brothers into elder ones. Well, each man in his vocation. You
young fellows of the sword desire to wrestle, fence, or so forth, with
some expert adversary; and for my part, I love to match myself for
life or death against that same Plague."

As they proceeded up the street of the little village towards the
Doctor's lodgings, his attention was successively occupied by the
various personages whom he met, and pointed out to the notice of his
companion.

"Do you see that fellow with the red bonnet, the blue jerkin, and the
great rough baton in his hand?--I believe that clown hath the strength
of a tower--he has lived fifty years in the world, and never
encouraged the liberal sciences by buying one penny-worth of
medicaments.--But see you that man with the _facies
hippocratica_?" said he, pointing out a thin peasant, with swelled
legs, and a most cadaverous countenance; "that I call one of the
worthiest men in the barony--he breakfasts, luncheons, dines, and sups
by my advice, and not without my medicine; and, for his own single
part, will go farther to clear out a moderate stock of pharmaceutics,
than half the country besides.--How do you, my honest friend?" said he
to the party in question, with a tone of condolence.

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