Chapter the Fourteenth.
Not the wild billow, when it breaks its barrier-- Not the wild wind, escaping from its cavern-- Not the wild fiend, that mingles both together, And pours their rage upon the ripening harvest, Can match the wild freaks of this mirthful meeting-- Comic, yet fearful--droll, and yet destructive. THE CONSPIRACY.
The monks ceased their song, which, like that of the choristers in thelegend of the Witch of Berkley, died away in a quaver of consternation;and, like a flock of chickens disturbed by the presence of thekite, they at first made a movement to disperse and fly in differentdirections, and then, with despair, rather than hope, huddled themselvesaround their new Abbot; who, retaining the lofty and undismayed lookwhich had dignified him through the whole ceremony, stood on the higherstep of the altar, as if desirous to be the most conspicuous mark onwhich danger might discharge itself, and to save his companions by hisself-devotion, since he could afford them no other protection.
Involuntarily, as it were, Magdalen Graeme and the page stepped from thestation which hitherto they had occupied unnoticed, and approached tothe altar, as desirous of sharing the fate which approached the monks,whatever that might be. Both bowed reverently low to the Abbot; andwhile Magdalen seemed about to speak, the youth, looking towards themain entrance, at which the noise now roared most loudly, and which wasat the same time assailed with much knocking, laid his hand upon hisdagger.
The Abbot motioned to both to forbear: "Peace, my sister," he said, in alow tone, but which, being in a different key from the tumultuary soundswithout, could be distinctly heard, even amidst the tumult;--"Peace," hesaid, "my sister; let the new Superior of Saint Mary's himself receiveand reply to the grateful acclamations of the vassals, who come tocelebrate his installation.--And thou, my son, forbear, I charge thee,to touch thy earthly weapon;--if it is the pleasure of our protectress,that her shrine be this day desecrated by deeds of violence, andpolluted by blood-shedding, let it not, I charge thee, happen throughthe deed of a Catholic son of the church."
The noise and knocking at the outer gate became now every moment louder;and voices were heard impatiently demanding admittance. The Abbot, withdignity, and with a step which even the emergency of danger renderedneither faltering nor precipitate, moved towards the portal, anddemanded to know, in a tone of authority, who it was that disturbedtheir worship, and what they desired?
There was a moment's silence, and then a loud laugh from without. Atlength a voice replied, "We desire entrance into the church; and whenthe door is opened you will soon see who we are."
"By whose authority do you require entrance?" said the Father.
"By authority of the right reverend Lord Abbot of Unreason."
[Footnote: We learn from no less authority than that of NapoleonBonaparte, that there is but a single step between the sublime andridiculous; and it is a transition from one extreme to another; so veryeasy, that the vulgar of every degree are peculiarly captivated with it.Thus the inclination to laugh becomes uncontrollable, when the solemnityand gravity of time, place, and circumstances, render it peculiarlyimproper. Some species of general license, like that which inspired theancient Saturnalia, or the modern Carnival, has been commonly indulgedto the people at all times and in almost all countries. But it was, Ithink, peculiar to the Roman Catholic Church, that while they studiedhow to render their church rites imposing and magnificent, by all thatpomp, music, architecture, and external display could add to them, theynevertheless connived, upon special occasions, at the frolics of therude vulgar, who, in almost all Catholic countries, enjoyed, or at leastassumed, the privilege of making: some Lord of the revels, who, underthe name of the Abbot of Unreason, the Boy Bishop, or the Presidentof Fools, occupied the churches, profaned the holy places by a mockimitation of the sacred rites, and sung indecent parodies on hymns ofthe church. The indifference of the clergy, even when their power wasgreatest, to the indecent exhibitions which they always tolerated, andsometimes encouraged, forms a strong contrast to the sensitiveness withwhich they regarded any serious attempt, by preaching or writing, toimpeach any of the doctrines of the church. It could only be compared tothe singular apathy with which they endured, and often admired the grossnovels which Chaucer, Dunbar, Boccacio, Bandello, and others, composedupon the bad morals of the clergy. It seems as if the churchmen in bothinstances had endeavoured to compromise with the laity, and allowed themoccasionally to gratify their coarse humour by indecent satire, providedthey would abstain from any grave question concerning the foundationof the doctrines on which was erected such an immense fabric ofecclesiastical power.
But the sports thus licensed assumed a very different appearance, sosoon as the Protestant doctrines began to prevail; and the license whichtheir forefathers had exercised in mere gaiety of heart, and withoutthe least intention of dishonouring religion by their frolics, were nowpersevered in by the common people as a mode of testifying their utterdisregard for the Roman priesthood and its ceremonies.
I may observe, for example, the case of an apparitor sent to Borthwickfrom the Primate of Saint Andrews, to cite the lord of that castle, whowas opposed by an Abbot of Unreason, at whose command the officer of thespiritual court was appointed to be ducked in a mill-dam, and obliged toeat up his parchment citation.
The reader may be amused with the following whimsical details of thisincident, which took place in the castle of Borthwick, in the year 1517.It appears, that in consequence of a process betwixt Master GeorgeHay de Minzeane and the Lord Borthwick, letters of excommunicationhad passed against the latter, on account of the contumacy of certainwitnesses. William Langlands, an apparitor or macer (_bacularius_) ofthe See of St Andrews, presented these letters to the curate of thechurch of Borthwick, requiring him to publish the same at the service ofhigh mass. It seems that the inhabitants of the castle were at thistime engaged in the favourite sport of enacting the Abbot of Unreason,a species of high jinks, in which a mimic prelate was elected, who, likethe Lord of Misrule in England, turned all sort of lawful authority, andparticularly the church ritual, into ridicule. This frolicsome personwith his retinue, notwithstanding of the apparitor's character, enteredthe church, seized upon the primate's officer without hesitation, and,dragging him to the mill-dam on the south side of the castle, compelledhim to leap into the water. Not contented with this partial immersion,the Abbot of Unreason pronounced, that Mr. William Langlands was not yetsufficiently bathed, and therefore caused his assistants to lay himon his back in the stream, and duck him in the most satisfactory andperfect manner. The unfortunate apparitor was then conducted back tothe church, where, for his refreshment after his bath, the letters ofexcommunication were torn to pieces, and steeped in a bowl of wine; themock abbot being probably of opinion that a tough parchment was butdry eating, Langlands was compelled to eat the letters, and swallowthe wine, and dismissed by the Abbot of Unreason, with the comfortableassurance, that if any more such letters should arrive during thecontinuance of his office, "they should a' gang the same gate," _i. e._go the same road.
A similar scene occurs betwixt a sumner of the Bishop of Rochester,and Harpool, the servant of Lord Cobham, in the old play of Sir JohnOldcastle, when the former compels the church-officer to eat hiscitation. The dialogue, which may be found in the note, contains mostof the jests which may be supposed, appropriate to such an extraordinaryoccasion:
_Harpool_ Marry, sir, is, this process parchment?
_Sumner._ Yes, marry is it.
_Harpool._ And this seal wax?
_Sumner._ It is so.
_Harpool._ If this be parchment, and this be wax, eat you this parchmentand wax, or I will make parchment of your skin, and beat your brainsinto wax. Sirrah Sumner, despatch--devour, sirrah, devour.
_Sumner._ I am my Lord of Rochester's sumner; I came to do my office,and thou shall answer it.
_Harpool._ Sirrah, no railing, but, betake thyself to thy teeth. Thoushalt, eat no worse than thou bringest with thee. Thou bringest it formy lo
rd; and wilt thou bring my lord worse than thou wilt eat thyself?
_Sumner._ Sir. I brought it not my lord to eat.
_Harpool._ O, do you Sir me now? All's one for that; I'll make you eatit for bringing it.
_Sumner._ I cannot eat it.
_Harpool._ Can you not? 'Sblood, I'll beat you till you have a stomach!(_Beats him._)
_Sumner._ Oh, hold, hold, good Mr. Servingman; I will eat it.
_Harpool._ Be champing, be chewing, sir, or I will chew you, you rogue.Tough wax is the purest of the honey.
_Sumner._ The purest of the honey?--O Lord, sir, oh! oh!
_Harpool._ Feed, feed; 'tis wholesome, rogue, wholesome. Cannot you,like an honest sumner, walk with the devil your brother, to fetch inyour bailiff's rents, but you must come to a nobleman's house withprocess! If the seal were broad as the lead which covers RochesterChurch, thou shouldst eat it.
_Sumner._ Oh, I am almost choked--I am almost choked!
_Harpool._ Who's within there? Will you shame my lord? Is there no beerin the house? Butler, I say.
_Enter_ BUTLER.
_Butler._ Here, here.
_Harpool._ Give him beer. Tough old sheep skin's but dry meat.
_First Part of Sir John Oldcastle_, Act II. Scene I.]
replied the voice from without; and, from the laugh--which followed,it seemed as if there was something highly ludicrous couched under thisreply.
"I know not, and seek not to know, your meaning," replied the Abbot,"since it is probably a rude one. But begone, in the name of God, andleave his servants in peace. I speak this, as having lawful authority tocommand here."
"Open the door," said another rude voice, "and we will try titles withyou, Sir Monk, and show you a superior we must all obey."
"Break open the doors if he dallies any longer," said a third, "and downwith the carrion monks who would bar us of our privilege!" A generalshout followed. "Ay, ay, our privilege! our privilege! down with thedoors, and with the lurdane monks, if they make opposition!"
The knocking was now exchanged for blows with great, hammers, to whichthe doors, strong as they were, must soon have given way. But the Abbot,who saw resistance would be in vain, and who did not wish to incense theassailants by an attempt at offering it, besought silence earnestly, andwith difficulty obtained a hearing. "My children," said he, "I willsave you from committing a great sin. The porter will presently undo thegate--he is gone to fetch the keys--meantime I pray you to consider withyourselves, if you are in a state of mind to cross the holy threshold."
"Tillyvally for your papistry!" was answered from without; "we are inthe mood of the monks when they are merriest, and that is when they supbeef-brewis for lanten-kail. So, if your porter hath not the gout, lethim come speedily, or we heave away readily.--Said I well, comrades?"
"Bravely said, and it shall be as bravely done," said the multitude; andhad not the keys arrived at that moment, and the porter in hasty terrorperformed his office, throwing open the great door, the populace wouldhave saved him the trouble. The instant he had done so, the affrightedjanitor fled, like one who has drawn the bolts of a flood-gate, andexpects to be overwhelmed by the rushing inundation. The monks, with oneconsent, had withdrawn themselves behind the Abbot, who alone kept hisstation, about three yards from the entrance, showing no signs of fearor perturbation. His brethren--partly encouraged by his devotion, partlyashamed to desert him, and partly animated by a sense of duty.--remainedhuddled close together, at the back of their Superior. There was a loudlaugh and huzza when the doors were opened; but, contrary to what mighthave been expected, no crowd of enraged assailants rushed into thechurch. On the contrary, there was a cry of "A halt!-a halt--to order,my masters! and let the two reverend fathers greet each other, asbeseems them."
The appearance of the crowd who were thus called to order, was grotesquein the extreme. It was composed of men, women, and children, ludicrouslydisguised in various habits, and presenting groups equally diversifiedand grotesque. Here one fellow with a horse's head painted before him,and a tail behind, and the whole covered with a long foot-cloth, whichwas supposed to hide the body of the animal, ambled, caracoled, pranced,and plunged, as he performed the celebrated part of the hobby-horse,
[Footnote: This exhibition, the play-mare of Scotland, stood high amongholyday gambols. It must be carefully separated from the woodenchargers which furnish out our nurseries. It gives rise to Hamlet'sejaculation,--
But oh, but oh, the hobby-horse is forgot!
There is a very comic scene in Beaumont and Fletcher's play of "WomanPleased," where Hope-on-high Bombye, a puritan cobbler, refuses to dancewith the hobby-horse. There was much difficulty and great variety in themotions which the hobby-horse was expected to exhibit.
The learned Mr. Douce, who has contributed so much to the illustrationof our theatrical antiquities, has given us a full account of thispageant, and the burlesque horsemanship which it practised.
"The hobby-horse," says Mr. Douce, "was represented by a man equippedwith as much pasteboard as was sufficient to form the head and hinderparts of a horse, the quadrupedal defects being concealed by a longmantle or footcloth that nearly touched the ground. The former, on thisoccasion, exerted all his skill in burlesque horsemanship. In Sympson'splay of the Law-breakers, 1636, a miller personates the hobby-horse, andbeing angry that the Mayor of the city is put in competition with him,exclaims, 'Let the mayor play the hobby-horse among his brethren, an hewill; I hope our town-lads cannot want a hobby-horse. Have I practisedmy reins, my careers, my prankers, my ambles, my false trots, my smoothambles, and Canterbury paces, and shall master mayor put me besidethe hobby-horse? Have I borrowed the fore-horse bells, his plumes, hisbraveries; nay, had his mane new shorn and frizzled, and shall the mayorput me beside the hobby-horse?" --_Douce's Illustrations_, vol. II. p.468]
so often alluded to in our ancient drama; and which still flourisheson the stage in the battle that concludes Bayes's tragedy. To rivalthe address and agility displayed by this character, another personageadvanced in the more formidable character of a huge dragon, with gildedwings, open jaws, and a scarlet tongue, cloven at the end, which madevarious efforts to overtake and devour a lad, dressed as the lovelySabaea, daughter of the King of Egypt, who fled before him; while amartial Saint George, grotesquely armed with a goblet for a helmet, anda spit for a lance, ever and anon interfered, and compelled the monsterto relinquish his prey. A bear, a wolf, and one or two other wildanimals, played their parts with the discretion of Snug the joiner; forthe decided preference which they gave to the use of their hind legs,was sufficient, without any formal annunciation, to assure the mosttimorous spectators that they had to do with habitual bipeds. There wasa group of outlaws with Robin Hood and Little John at their head
[Footnote: The representation of Robin Hood was the darling Maygame bothin England and Scotland, and doubtless the favourite personification wasoften revived, when the Abbot of Unreason, or other pretences of frolic,gave an unusual decree of license.
The Protestant clergy, who had formerly reaped advantage from theopportunities which these sports afforded them of directing their ownsatire and the ridicule of the lower orders against the Catholic church,began to find that, when these purposes were served, their favouritepastimes deprived them of the wish to attend divine worship, anddisturbed the frame of mind in which it can be attended to advantage.The celebrated Bishop Latimer gives a very _naive_ account of the mannerin which, bishop as he was, he found himself compelled to give place toRobin Hood and his followers.
"I came once myselfe riding on a journey homeward from London, and Isent word over night into the towne that I would preach there in themorning, because it was holiday, and me thought it was a holidayesworke. The church stood in my way, and I took my horse and my company,and went thither, (I thought I should have found a great company inthe church,) and when I came there the church doore was fast locked. Itarryed there halfe an houre and more. At last the key was found, andone of the parish comes to
me and said,--'Sir, this is a busie day withus, we cannot hear you; it is Robin Hood's day. The parish are goneabroad to gather for Robin Hood. I pray you let them not.' I was fainethere to give place to Robin Hood. I thought my rochet should have beenregarded, though I were not: but it would not serve, it was faine togive place to Robin Hood's men. It is no laughing matter, my friends,it is a weeping matter, a heavie matter, a heavie matter. Under thepretence for gathering for Robin Hood, a traytour, and a theif, to putout a preacher; to have his office lesse esteemed; to preferre RobinHood before the ministration of God's word; and all this hath come ofunpreaching prelates. This realme hath been ill provided for, that ithath had such corrupt judgments in it, to prefer Robin Hood to God'sword."--_Bishop Latimer's sixth Sermon before King Edward_.
While the English Protestants thus preferred the outlaw's pageant to thepreaching of their excellent Bishop, the Scottish calvinistic clergy,with the celebrated John Knox at their head, and backed by the authorityof the magistrates of Edinburgh, who had of late been chosen exclusivelyfrom this party, found it impossible to control the rage of thepopulace, when they attempted to deprive them of the privilege ofpresenting their pageant of Robin Hood.
[Note on old Scottish spelling: leading y = modern 'th'; leading v =modern 'u']
(561) "Vpon the xxi day of Junij. Archibalde Dowglas of Kilspindie,Provest of Edr., David Symmer and Adame Fullartoun, baillies of thesamyne, causit ane cordinare servant, callit James Gillion takin ofbefoir, for playing in Edr. with Robene Hude, to wnderly the law, andput him to the knawlege of ane assyize qlk yaij haid electit of yairfavoraris, quha with schort deliberatioun condemnit him to be hangit forye said cryme. And the deaconis of ye craftismen fearing vproare, maidgreat solistatuis at ye handis of ye said provost and baillies, and alsrequirit John Knox, minister, for eschewing of tumult, to superceid yeexecution of him, vnto ye tyme yai suld adverteis my Lord Duke yairof.And yan, if it wes his mynd and will yat he should be disponit vpoun, yesaid deaconis and craftismen sould convey him yaire; quha answerit, yatyai culd na way stope ye executioun of justice. Quhan ye time of ye saidpouer mans hanging approchit, and yat ye hangman wes cum to ye jibbatwith ye ledder, vpoune ye qlk ye said cordinare should have bene hangit,ane certaine and remanent craftischilder, quha wes put to ye horne withye said Gillione, ffor ye said Robene Huide's _playes_, and vyris yairassistaris and favoraris, past to wappinis, and yai brak down ye saidjibbat, and yan chacit ye said provest, baillies, and Alexr. Guthrie, inye said Alexander's writing buith, and held yame yairin; and yairefterpast to ye tolbuyt, and becaus the samyne was steiket, and onnawayesculd get the keyes thairof, thai brak the said tolbuith dore with foureharberis, per force, (the said provest and baillies luckand thairon.)and not onlie put thar the said Gillione to fredome and libertie, andbrocht him furth of the said tolbuit, bot alsua the remanent presonarisbeing thairintill; and this done, the said craftismen's servands, withthe said condempnit cordonar, past doun to the Netherbow, to have pastfurth thairat; bot becaus the samyne on thair coming thairto wescloset, thai past vp agane the Hie streit of the said bourghe to theCastellhill, and in this menetymne the saidis provest and baillies, andthair assistaris being in the writing buith of the said Alexr. Guthrie,past and enterit in the said tolbuyt, and in the said servandes passagevp the Hie streit, then schote furth thairof at thame ane dog, and hurtane servand of the said childer. This being done, thair wes nathingvthir but the one partie schuteand out and castand stanes furth of thesaid tolbuyt, and the vther pairtie schuteand hagbuttis in the sameagane. Aund sua the craftismen's servandis, aboue written, held andinclosit the said provest and baillies continewallie in the saidtolbuyth, frae three houris efternone, quhill aught houris at even,and na man of the said town prensit to relieve their said provest andbaillies. And than thai send to the maisters of the Castell, to caustham if thai mycht stay the said servandis, quha maid ane maner to dothe same, bot thai could not bring the same to ane finall end, fforthe said servands wold on noways stay fra, quhill thai had revengit thehurting of ane of them; and thairefter the constable of the castell comedown thairfra, and he with the said maisters treatet betwix the saidpties in this maner:--That the said provost and baillies sall remit tothe said craftischilder, all actioun, cryme, and offens that thai hadcommittit aganes thame in any tyme bygane; and band and oblast thamenever to pursew them thairfor; and als commandit thair maisters toresaue them agane in thair services, as thai did befoir. And this beingproclainit at the mercat cross, thai scalit, and the said provest andbailies come furth of the same tolbouyth." &c. &c. &c.
John Knox, who writes at large upon this tumult, informs us it wasinflamed by the deacons of craftes, who, resenting; the superiorityassumed over them by the magistrates, would yield no assistance to putdown the tumult. "They will be magistrates alone," said the recusantdeacons, "e'en let them rule the populace alone;" and accordinglythey passed quietly to take _their four-hours penny_, and left themagistrates to help themselves as they could. Many persons wereexcommunicated for this outrage, and not admitted to church ordinancestill they had made satisfaction.] --the best representation exhibitedat the time; and no great wonder, since most of the actors were, byprofession, the banished men and thieves whom they presented. Othermasqueraders there were, of a less marked description. Men weredisguised as women, and women as men--children wore the dress of agedpeople, and tottered with crutch-sticks in their hands, furred gownson their little backs, and caps on their round heads--while grandsiresassumed the infantine tone as well as the dress of children. Besidesthese, many had their faces painted, and wore their shirts over therest of their dress; while coloured pasteboard and ribbons furnished outdecorations for others. Those who wanted all these properties,blacked their faces, and turned their jackets inside out; and thus thetransmutation of the whole assembly into a set of mad grotesque mummers,was at once completed.
The pause which the masqueraders made, waiting apparently for someperson of the highest authority amongst them, gave those within theAbbey Church full time to observe all these absurdities. They were at noloss to comprehend their purpose and meaning.
Few readers can be ignorant, that at an early period, and during theplenitude of her power, the Church of Rome not only connived at,but even encouraged, such Saturnalian licenses as the inhabitants ofKennaquhair and the neighbourhood had now in hand, and that the vulgar,on such occasions, were not only permitted but encouraged by a number ofgambols, sometimes puerile and ludicrous, sometimes immoral and profane,to indemnify themselves for the privations and penances imposed on themat other seasons. But, of all other topics for burlesque and ridicule,the rites and ceremonial of the church itself were most frequentlyresorted to; and, strange to say, with the approbation of the clergythemselves.
While the hierarchy flourished in full glory, they do not appear tohave dreaded the consequences of suffering the people to become soirreverently familiar with things sacred; they then imagined the laityto be much in the condition of the labourer's horse, which does notsubmit to the bridle and the whip with greater reluctance, because, atrare intervals, he is allowed to frolic at large in his pasture, andfling out his heels in clumsy gambols at the master who usually driveshim. But, when times changed--when doubt of the Roman Catholic doctrine,and hatred of their priesthood, had possessed the reformed party, theclergy discovered, too late, that no small inconvenience arose fromthe established practice of games and merry-makings, in which theythemselves, and all they held most sacred, were made the subject ofridicule. It then became obvious to duller politicians than the Romishchurchmen, that the same actions have a very different tendency whendone in the spirit of sarcastic insolence and hatred, than whenacted merely in exuberance of rude and uncontrollable spirits. They,therefore, though of the latest, endeavoured, where they had anyremaining influence, to discourage the renewal of these indecorousfestivities. In this particular, the Catholic clergy were joined by mostof the reformed preachers, who were more shocked at the profanity andimmorality of many of these exhibitions, than disposed to profi
t bythe ridiculous light in which they placed the Church of Rome and herobservances. But it was long ere these scandalous and immoral sportscould be abrogated;--the rude multitude continued attached to theirfavourite pastimes, and, both in England and Scotland, the mitre of theCatholic--the rochet of the reformed bishop--and the cloak and band ofthe Calvinistic divine--were, in turn, compelled to give place to thosejocular personages, the Pope of Fools, the Boy-Bishop, and the Abbot ofUnreason. [Footnote: From the interesting novel entitled Anastasius, itseems the same burlesque ceremonies were practised in the Greek Church.]
It was the latter personage who now, in full costume, made his approachto the great door of the church of St. Mary's, accoutred in such amanner as to form a caricature, or practical parody, on the costume andattendants of the real Superior, whom he came to beard on the very dayof his installation, in the presence of his clergy, and in the chancelof his church. The mock dignitary was a stout-made under-sized fellow,whose thick squab form had been rendered grotesque by a supplementalpaunch, well stuffed. He wore a mitre of leather, with the front like agrenadier's cap, adorned with mock embroidery, and trinkets of tin. Thissurmounted a visage, the nose of which was the most prominent feature,being of unusual size, and at least as richly gemmed as his head-gear.His robe was of buckram, and his cope of canvass, curiously painted, andcut into open work. On one shoulder was fixed the painted figure of anowl; and he bore in the right hand his pastoral staff, and in the left asmall mirror having a handle to it, thus resembling a celebratedjester, whose adventures, translated into English, were whilom extremelypopular, and which may still be procured in black letter, for about onesterling pound per leaf.
The attendants of this mock dignitary had their proper dresses andequipage, bearing the same burlesque resemblance to the officers ofthe Convent which their leader did to the Superior. They followed theirleader in regular procession, and the motley characters, which hadwaited his arrival, now crowded into the church in his train, shoutingas they came,--"A hall, a hall! for the venerable Father Howleglas, thelearned Monk of Misrule, and the Right Reverend Abbot of Unreason!"
The discordant minstrelsy of every kind renewed its din; the boysshrieked and howled, and the men laughed and hallooed, and the womengiggled and screamed, and the beasts roared, and the dragon walloppedand hissed, and the hobby-horse neighed, pranced, and capered, and therest frisked and frolicked, clashing their hobnailed shoes against thepavement, till it sparkled with the marks of their energetic caprioles.
It was, in fine, a scene of ridiculous confusion, that deafened the ear,made the eyes giddy, and must have altogether stunned any indifferentspectator; the monks, whom personal apprehension and a consciousnessthat much of the popular enjoyment arose from the ridicule beingdirected against them, were, moreover, little comforted by thereflection, that, bold in their disguise, the mummers who whooped andcapered around them, might, on slight provocation, turn their jest intoearnest, or at least proceed to those practical pleasantries, whichat all times arise so naturally out of the frolicsome and mischievousdisposition of the populace. They looked to their Abbot amid the tumult,with such looks as landsmen cast upon the pilot when the storm is at thehighest--looks which express that they are devoid of all hope arisingfrom their own exertions, and not very confident in any success likelyto attend those of their Palinurus.
The Abbot himself seemed at a stand; he felt no fear, but he wassensible of the danger of expressing his rising indignation, which hewas scarcely able to suppress. He made a gesture with his hand as ifcommanding silence, which was at first only replied to by redoubledshouts, and peals of wild laughter. When, however, the same motion,and as nearly in the same manner, had been made by Howleglas, it wasimmediately obeyed by his riotous companions, who expected fresh foodfor mirth in the conversation betwixt the real and mock Abbot, havingno small confidence in the vulgar wit and impudence of their leader.Accordingly, they began to shout, "To it, fathers--to it I"--"Fightmonk, fight madcap--Abbot against Abbot is fair play, and so is reasonagainst unreason, and malice against monkery!"
"Silence, my mates!" said Howleglas; "cannot two learned Fathers ofthe Church hold communion together, but you must come here with yourbear-garden whoop and hollo, as if you were hounding forth a mastiffupon a mad bull? I say silence! and let this learned Father and meconfer, touching matters affecting our mutual state and authority."
"My children"-said Father Ambrose.
"_My_ children too,--and happy children they are!" said his burlesquecounterpart; "many a wise child knows not its own father, and it is wellthey have two to choose betwixt."
"If thou hast aught in thee, save scoffing and ribaldry," said the realAbbot, "permit me, for thine own soul's sake, to speak a few words tothese misguided men."
"Aught in me but scoffing, sayest thou?" retorted the Abbot of Unreason;"why, reverend brother, I have all that becomes mine office at thistime a-day--I have beef, ale, and brandy-wine, with other condiments notworth mentioning; and for speaking, man--why, speak away, and we willhave turn about, like honest fellows."
During this discussion the wrath of Magdalen Graeme had risen to theuttermost; she approached the Abbot, and placing herself by his side,said in a low and yet distinct tone-"Wake and arouse thee, Father--thesword of Saint Peter is in thy hand--strike and avenge Saint Peter'spatrimony!--Bind them in the chains which, being riveted by the churchon earth, are riveted in Heaven--"
"Peace, sister!" said the Abbot; "let not their madness destroy ourdiscretion--I pray thee, peace, and let me do mine office. It is thefirst, peradventure it may be the last time, I shall be called on todischarge it."
"Nay, my holy brother!" said Howleglas, "I rede you, take the holysister's advice--never throve convent without woman's counsel."
"Peace, vain man!" said the Abbot; "and you, my brethren--"
"Nay, nay!" said the Abbot of Unreason, "no speaking to the lay people,until you have conferred with your brother of the cowl. I swear by bell,book, and candle, that no one of my congregation shall listen to oneword you have to say; so you had as well address yourself to me whowill."
To escape a conference so ludicrous, the Abbot again attempted an appealto what respectful feelings might yet remain amongst the inhabitants ofthe Halidome, once so devoted to their spiritual Superiors. Alas!the Abbot of Unreason had only to nourish his mock crosier, and thewhooping, the hallooing, and the dancing, were renewed with a vehemencewhich would have defied the lungs of Stentor.
"And now, my mates," said the Abbot of Unreason, "once again dight yourgabs and be hushed-let us see if the Cock of Kennaquhair will fight orflee the pit."
There was again a dead silence of expectation, of which Father Ambroseavailed himself to address his antagonist, seeing plainly that he couldgain an audience on no other terms. "Wretched man!" said he, "hast thouno better employment for thy carnal wit, than to employ it in leadingthese blind and helpless creatures into the pit of utter darkness?"
"Truly, my brother," replied Howleglas, "I can see little differencebetwixt your employment and mine, save that you make a sermon of a jest,and I make a jest of a sermon."
"Unhappy being," said the Abbot, "who hast no better subject ofpleasantry than that which should make thee tremble--no sounder jestthan thine own sins, and no better objects for laughter than those whocan absolve thee from the guilt of them!"
"Verily, my reverend brother," said the mock Abbot, "what you saymight be true, if, in laughing at hypocrites, I meant to laugh atreligion.--Oh, it is a precious thing to wear a long dress, with agirdle and a cowl--we become a holy pillar of Mother Church, and a boymust not play at ball against the walls for fear of breaking a paintedwindow!"
"And will you, my friends," said the Abbot, looking round and speakingwith a vehemence which secured him a tranquil audience for sometime,--"will you suffer a profane buffoon, within the very church ofGod, to insult his ministers? Many of you--all of you, perhaps--havelived under my holy predecessors, who were called upon to rule in thischurch where I am ca
lled upon to suffer. If you have worldly goods, theyare their gift; and, when you scorned not to accept better gifts--themercy and forgiveness of the church--were they not ever at yourcommand?--did we not pray while you were jovial--wake while you slept?"
"Some of the good wives of the Halidome were wont to say so," saidthe Abbot of Unreason; but his jest met in this instance but slightapplause, and Father Ambrose, having gained a moment's attention,hastened to improve it.
"What!" said he; "and is this grateful--is it seemly--is it honest--toassail with scorn a few old men, from whose predecessors you hold all,and whose only wish is to die in peace among these fragments of what wasonce the light of the land, and whose daily prayer is, that they may beremoved ere that hour comes when the last spark shall be extinguished,and the land left in the darkness which it has chosen rather than light?We have not turned against you the edge of the spiritual sword, torevenge our temporal persecution; the tempest of your wrath hathdespoiled us of land, and deprived us almost of our daily food, but wehave not repaid it with the thunders of excommunication--we only prayyour leave to live and die within the church which is our own, invokingGod, our Lady, and the Holy Saints to pardon your sins, and our own,undisturbed by scurril buffoonery and blasphemy."
This speech, so different in tone and termination from that which thecrowd had expected, produced an effect upon their feelings unfavourableto the prosecution of their frolic. The morris-dancers stood still--thehobby-horse surceased his capering--pipe and tabor were mute, and"silence, like a heavy cloud," seemed to descend on the once noisyrabble. Several of the beasts were obviously moved to compunction; thebear could not restrain his sobs, and a huge fox was observed to wipehis eyes with his tail. But in especial the dragon, lately so formidablyrampant, now relaxed the terror of his claws, uncoiled his tremendousrings, and grumbled out of his fiery throat in a repentant tone, "Bythe mass, I thought no harm in exercising our old pastime, but an I hadthought the good Father would have taken it so to heart, I would as soonhave played your devil, as your dragon."
In this momentary pause, the Abbot stood amongst the miscellaneous andgrotesque forms by which he was surrounded, triumphant as Saint Anthony,in Callot's Temptations; but Howleglas would not so resign his purpose.
"And how now, my masters!" said he, "is this fair play or no? Have younot chosen me Abbot of Unreason, and is it lawful for any of you tolisten to common sense to-day? Was I not formally elected by you insolemn chapter, held in Luckie Martin's change-house, and will you nowdesert me, and give up your old pastime and privilege? Play out theplay--and he that speaks the next word of sense or reason, or bids usthink or consider, or the like of that, which befits not the day, I willhave him solemnly ducked in the mill-dam!"
The rabble, mutable as usual, huzzaed, the pipe and tabor struck up, thehobby-horse pranced, the beasts roared, and even the repentant dragonbegan again to coil up his spires, and prepare himself for freshgambols. But the Abbot might still have overcome, by his eloquence andhis entreaties, the malicious designs of the revellers, had not DameMagdalen Graeme given loose to the indignation which she had longsuppressed.
"Scoffers," she said, "and men of Belial--Blasphemous heretics, andtruculent tyrants----"
"Your patience, my sister, I entreat and I command you!" said the Abbot;"let me do my duty--disturb me not in mine office!"
But Dame Magdalen continued to thunder forth her threats in the nameof Popes and Councils, and in the name of every Saint, from St. Michaeldownward.
"My comrades!" said the Abbot of Unreason, "this good dame hath notspoken a single word of reason, and therein may esteem herself free fromthe law. But what she spoke was meant for reason, and, therefore, unlessshe confesses and avouches all which she has said to be nonsense, itshall pass for such, so far as to incur our statutes. Wherefore, holydame, pilgrim, or abbess, or whatever thou art, be mute with thy mummeryor beware the mill-dam. We will have neither spiritual nor temporalscolds in our Diocese of Unreason!"
As he spoke thus, he extended his hand towards the old woman, while hisfollowers shouted, "A doom--a doom!" and prepared to second his purpose,when lo! it was suddenly frustrated. Roland Graeme had witnessed withindignation the insults offered to his old spiritual preceptor, but yethad wit enough to reflect he could render him no assistance, but mightwell, by ineffective interference, make matters worse. But when he sawhis aged relative in danger of personal violence, he gave way to thenatural impetuosity of his temper, and, stepping forward, struck hisponiard into the body of the Abbot of Unreason, whom the blow instantlyprostrated on the pavement.