Chapter the Twenty-Seventh.
See on yon verdant lawn, the gathering crowd Thickens amain; the buxom nymphs advance, Usher'd by jolly clowns; distinctions cease, Lost in the common joy, and the bold slave Leans on his wealthy master unreproved. _Rural Games_.--SOMERVILLLE.
The re-appearance of the dignified Chamberlain on the street of thevillage was eagerly hailed by the revellers, as a pledge that theplay, or dramatic representation, which had been postponed owing to hisabsence, was now full surely to commence. Any thing like an approachto this most interesting of all amusements, was of recent origin inScotland, and engaged public attention in proportion. All other sportswere discontinued. The dance around the Maypole was arrested--the ringbroken up and dispersed, while the dancers, each leading his partner bythe hand, tripped, off to the silvan theatre. A truce was in likemanner achieved betwixt a huge brown bear and certain mastiffs, whowere tugging and pulling at his shaggy coat, under the mediation of thebear-ward and half a dozen butchers and yeomen, who, by dint of _stavingand tailing_, as it was technically termed, separated the unfortunateanimals, whose fury had for an hour past been their chief amusement.The itinerant minstrel found himself deserted by the audience he hadcollected, even in the most interesting passage of the romance which herecited, and just as he was sending about his boy, with bonnet in hand,to collect their oblations. He indignantly stopped short in the midstof _Rosewal and Lilian_, and, replacing his three-stringed fiddle, orrebeck, in its leathern case, followed the crowd, with no good-will, tothe exhibition which had superseded his own. The juggler had ceased hisexertions of emitting flame and smoke, and was content to respire in themanner of ordinary mortals, rather than to play gratuitously the partof a fiery dragon. In short, all other sports were suspended, so eagerlydid the revellers throng towards the place of representation.
They would err greatly, who should regulate their ideas of this dramaticexhibition upon those derived from a modern theatre; for the rude showsof Thespis were far less different from those exhibited by Euripides onthe stage of Athens, with all its magnificent decorations and pomp ofdresses and of scenery. In the present case, there were no scenes, nostage, no machinery, no pit, box, and gallery, no box-lobby; and, whatmight in poor Scotland be some consolation for other negations, therewas no taking of money at the door. As in the devices of the magnanimousBottom, the actors had a greensward plot for a stage, and a hawthornbush for a greenroom and tiring-house; the spectators being accommodatedwith seats on the artificial bank which had been raised aroundthree-fourths of the playground, the remainder being left open for theentrance and exit of the performers. Here sate the uncritical audience,the Chamberlain in the centre, as the person highest in office, allalive to enjoyment and admiration, and all therefore dead to criticism.
The characters which appeared and disappeared before the amused andinterested audience, were those which fill the earlier stage in allnations--old men, cheated by their wives and daughters, pillaged bytheir sons, and imposed on by their domestics, a braggadocia captain,a knavish pardoner or quaestionary, a country bumpkin and a wanton citydame. Amid all these, and more acceptable than almost the whole puttogether, was the all-licensed fool, the Gracioso of the Spanish drama,who, with his cap fashioned into the resemblance of a coxcomb, and hisbauble, a truncheon terminated by a carved figure wearing a fool's cap,in his hand, went, came, and returned, mingling in every scene of thepiece, and interrupting the business, without having any share himselfin the action, and ever and anon transferring his gibes from the actorson the stage to the audience who sate around, prompt to applaud thewhole.
The wit of the piece, which was not of the most polished kind, waschiefly directed against the superstitious practices of the Catholicreligion; and the stage artillery had on this occasion been levelledby no less a person than Doctor Lundin, who had not only commanded themanager of the entertainment to select one of the numerous satires whichhad been written against the Papists, (several of which were cast in adramatic form,) but had even, like the Prince of Denmark, caused them toinsert, or according to his own phrase, to infuse here and there, afew pleasantries of his own penning, on the same inexhaustible subject,hoping thereby to mollify the rigour of the Lady of Lochleven towardspastimes of this description. He failed not to jog Roland's elbow,who was sitting in state behind him, and recommend to his particularattention those favourite passages. As for the page, to whom, the veryidea of such an exhibition, simple as it was, was entirely new, hebeheld it with the undiminished and ecstatic delight with which menof all ranks look for the first time on dramatic representation, andlaughed, shouted, and clapped his hands as the performance proceeded. Anincident at length took place, which effectually broke off his interestin the business of the scene.
One of the principal personages in the comic part of the drama was,as we have already said, a quaestionary or pardoner, one of thoseitinerants who hawked about from place to place relics, real orpretended, with which he excited the devotion at once, and the charityof the populace, and generally deceived both the one and the other. Thehypocrisy, impudence, and profligacy of these clerical wanderers, hadmade them the subject of satire from the time of Chaucer down to that ofHeywood. Their present representative failed not to follow the same lineof humour, exhibiting pig's bones for relics, and boasting the virtuesof small tin crosses, which had been shaken in the holy porringer atLoretto, and of cockleshells, which had been brought from the shrineof Saint James of Compostella, all which he disposed of to the devoutCatholics at nearly as high a price as antiquaries are now willingto pay for baubles of similar intrinsic value. At length the pardonerpulled from his scrip a small phial of clear water, of which he vauntedthe quality in the following verses:--
Listneth, gode people, everiche one For in the londe of Babylone, Far eastward I wot it lyeth, And is the first londe the sonne espieth, Ther, as he cometh fro out the se; In this ilk londe, as thinketh me, Right as holie legendes tell. Snottreth from a roke a well, And falleth into ane bath of ston, Where chaste Susanne, in times long gon,
Wax wont to wash her bodie and lim Mickle vertue hath that streme, As ye shall se er that ye pas, Ensample by this little glas-- Through nightes cold and dayes hote Hiderward I have it brought; Hath a wife made slip or side, Or a maiden stepp'd aside, Putteth this water under her nese, Wold she nold she, she shall snese.
The jest, as the reader skilful in the antique language of the dramamust at once perceive, turned on the same pivot as in the old minstreltales of the Drinking Horn of King Arthur, and the Mantle made Amiss.But the audience were neither learned nor critical enough to challengeits want of originality. The potent relic was, after such grimace andbuffoonery as befitted the subject, presented successively to eachof the female personages of the drama, not one of whom sustainedthe supposed test of discretion; but, to the infinite delight of theaudience, sneezed much louder and longer than perhaps they themselveshad counted on. The jest seemed at last worn threadbare, and thepardoner was passing on to some new pleasantry, when the jester or clownof the drama, possessing himself secretly of the phial which containedthe wondrous liquor, applied it suddenly to the nose of a young woman,who, with her black silk muffler, or screen drawn over her face, wassitting in the foremost rank of the spectators, intent apparently uponthe business of the stage. The contents of the phial, well calculated tosustain the credit of the pardoner's legend, set the damsel a-sneezingviolently, an admission of frailty which was received with shoutsof rapture by the audience. These were soon, however, renewed at theexpense of the jester himself, when the insulted maiden extricated, erethe paroxysm was well over, one hand from the folds of her mantle, andbestowed on the wag a buffet, which made him reel fully his ownlength from the pardoner, and then acknowledge the favour by instantprostration.
No one pities a jester overcome in his vocation, and the clown met withlittle sympathy, when, rising from the ground, and whimpering forth hiscomplaints of harsh treatment, he invoked the assistance and sympat
hyof the audience. But the Chamberlain, feeling his own dignity insulted,ordered two of his halberdiers to bring the culprit before him. Whenthese official persons first approached the virago, she threw herselfinto an attitude of firm defiance, as if determined to resist theirauthority; and from the sample of strength and spirit which shehad already displayed, they showed no alacrity at executing theircommission. But on half a minute's reflection, the damsel changedtotally her attitude and manner, folded her cloak around her arms inmodest and maiden-like fashion, and walked of her own accord to thepresence of the great man, followed and guarded by the two manfulsatellites. As she moved across the vacant space, and more especiallyas she stood at the footstool of the Doctor's judgment-seat, the maidendiscovered that lightness and elasticity of step, and natural grace ofmanner, which connoisseurs in female beauty know to be seldom dividedfrom it. Moreover, her neat russet-coloured jacket, and short petticoatof the same colour, displayed a handsome form and a pretty leg. Herfeatures were concealed by the screen; but the Doctor, whose gravity didnot prevent his pretensions to be a connoisseur of the school we havehinted at, saw enough to judge favourably of the piece by the sample.
He began, however, with considerable austerity of manner.--"And how now,saucy quean!" said the medical man of office; "what have you to say whyI should not order you to be ducked in the loch, for lifting your handto the man in my presence?"
"Marry," replied the culprit, "because I judge that your honour will notthink the cold bath necessary for my complaints."
"A pestilent jade," said the Doctor, whispering to Roland Graeme; "andI'll warrant her a good one--her voice is as sweet as sirup.--But,my pretty maiden," said he, "you show us wonderful little of thatcountenance of yours--be pleased to throw aside your muffler."
"I trust your honour will excuse me till we are more private," answeredthe maiden; "for I have acquaintance, and I should like ill to be knownin the country as the poor girl whom that scurvy knave put his jestupon."
"Fear nothing for thy good name, my sweet little modicum of candiedmanna," replied the Doctor, "for I protest to you, as I am Chamberlainof Lochleven, Kinross, and so forth, that the chaste Susanna herselfcould not have snuffed that elixir without sternutation, being in trutha curious distillation of rectified _acetum_, or vinegar of the sun,prepared by mine own hands--Wherefore, as thou sayest thou wilt come tome in private, and express thy contrition for the offence whereof thouhast been guilty, I command that all for the present go forward as if nosuch interruption of the prescribed course had taken place."
The damsel curtsied and tripped back to her place. The play proceeded,but it no longer attracted the attention of Roland Graeme.
The voice, the figure, and what the veil permitted to be seen of theneck and tresses of the village damsel, bore so strong a resemblance tothose of Catherine Seyton, that he felt like one bewildered in themazes of a changeful and stupifying dream. The memorable scene ofthe hostelrie rushed on his recollection, with all its doubtful andmarvellous circumstances. Were the tales of enchantment which hehad read in romances realized in this extraordinary girl? Could shetransport herself from the walled and guarded Castle of Lochleven,moated with its broad lake, (towards which he cast back a look as if toascertain it was still in existence,) and watched with such scrupulouscare as the safety of a nation demanded?--Could she surmount all theseobstacles, and make such careless and dangerous use of her liberty, asto engage herself publicly in a quarrel in a village fair? Roland wasunable to determine whether the exertions which it must have cost herto gain her freedom or the use to which she had put it, rendered her themost unaccountable creature.
Lost in these meditations, he kept his gaze fixed on the subject ofthem; and in every casual motion, discovered, or thought he discovered,something which reminded him still more strongly of Catherine Seyton.It occurred to him more than once, indeed, that he might be deceivinghimself by exaggerating some casual likeness into absolute identity.But then the meeting at the hostelrie of Saint Michael's returned to hismind, and it seemed in the highest degree improbable, that, undersuch various circumstances, mere imagination should twice have foundopportunity to play him the selfsame trick. This time, however, hedetermined to have his doubts resolved, and for this purpose he sateduring the rest of the play like a greyhound in the slip, ready tospring upon the hare the instant that she was started. The damsel, whomhe watched attentively lest she should escape in the crowd when thespectacle was closed, sate as if perfectly unconscious that she wasobserved. But the worthy Doctor marked the direction of his eyes, andmagnanimously suppressed his own inclination to become the Theseusto this Hippolyta, in deference to the rights of hospitality, whichenjoined him to forbear interference with the pleasurable pursuitsof his young friend. He passed one or two formal gibes upon the fixedattention which the page paid to the unknown, and upon his own jealousy;adding, however, that if both were to be presented to the patient atonce, he had little doubt she would think the younger man the sounderprescription. "I fear me," he added, "we shall have no news of the knaveAuchtermuchty for some time, since the vermin whom I sent after him seemto have proved corbie-messengers. So you have an hour or two on yourhands, Master Page; and as the minstrels are beginning to strike up, nowthe play is ended, why, an you incline for a dance, yonder is the green,and there sits your partner--I trust you will hold me perfect in mydiagnostics, since I see with half an eye what disease you are sick of,and have administered a pleasing remedy.
"_Discernit sapiens res_ (as Chambers hath it) _quas confundit asellus_."
The page hardly heard the end of the learned adage, or the chargewhich the Chamberlain gave him to be within reach, in case of the wainsarriving suddenly, and sooner than expected--so eager he was at onceto shake himself free of his learned associate, and to satisfy hiscuriosity regarding the unknown damsel. Yet in the haste with which hemade towards her he found time to reflect, that, in order to secure anopportunity of conversing with her in private, he must not alarm herat first accosting her. He therefore composed his manner and gait,and advancing with becoming self-confidence before three or fourcountry-fellows who were intent on the same design, but knew not so wellhow to put their request into shape, he acquainted her that he, as thedeputy of the venerable Chamberlain, requested the honour of her hand asa partner.
"The venerable Chamberlain," said the damsel frankly, reaching the pageher hand, "does very well to exercise this part of his privilege bydeputy; and I suppose the laws of the revels leave me no choice but toaccept of his faithful delegate."
"Provided, fair damsel," said the page, "his choice of a delegate is notaltogether distasteful to you."
"Of that, fair sir," replied the maiden, "I will tell you more when wehave danced the first measure."
Catherine Seyton had admirable skill in gestic lore, and was sometimescalled on to dance for the amusement of her royal mistress. RolandGraeme had often been a spectator of her skill, and sometimes, atthe Queen's command, Catherine's partner on such occasions. He was,therefore, perfectly acquainted with Catherine's mode of dancing; andobserved that his present partner, in grace, in agility, in quicknessof ear, and precision of execution, exactly resembled her, save that theScottish jig, which he now danced with her, required a more violentand rapid motion, and more rustic agility, than the stately pavens,lavoltas, and courantoes, which he had seen her execute in the chamberof Queen Mary. The active duties of the dance left him little time forreflection, and none for conversation; but when their _pas de deux_was finished, amidst the acclamations of the villagers, who had seldomwitnessed such an exhibition, he took an opportunity, when they yieldedup the green to another couple, to use the privilege of a partner andenter into conversation with the mysterious maiden, whom he still heldby the hand.
"Fair partner, may I not crave the name of her who has graced me thusfar?"
"You may," said the maiden; "but it is a question whether I shall answeryou."
"And why?" asked Roland.
"Because nobody gives anything
for nothing--and you can tell me nothingin return which I care to hear."
"Could I not tell you my name and lineage, in exchange for yours?"returned Roland.
"No!" answered the maiden, "for you know little of either."
"How?" said the page, somewhat angrily.
"Wrath you not for the matter," said the damsel; "I will show you in aninstant that I know more of you than you do of yourself."
"Indeed," answered Graeme; "for whom then do you take me?"
"For the wild falcon," answered she, "whom a dog brought in his mouth toa certain castle, when he was but an unfledged eyas--for the hawkwhom men dare not fly, lest he should check at game, and pounce oncarrion--whom folk must keep hooded till he has the proper light of hiseyes, and can discover good from evil."
"Well--be it so," replied Roland Graeme; "I guess at a part of yourparable, fair mistress mine--and perhaps I know as much of you as youdo of me, and can well dispense with the information which you are soniggard in giving."
"Prove that," said the maiden, "and I will give you credit for morepenetration than I judged you to be gifted withal."
"It shall be proved instantly," said Roland Graeme. "The first letter ofyour name is S, and the last N."
"Admirable," said his partner, "guess on."
"It pleases you to-day," continued Roland, "to wear the snood andkirtle, and perhaps you may be seen to-morrow in hat and feather, hoseand doublet."
"In the clout! in the clout! you have hit the very white," said thedamsel, suppressing a great inclination to laugh.
"You can switch men's eyes out of their heads, as well as the heart outof their bosoms."
These last words were uttered in a low and tender tone, which, toRoland's great mortification, and somewhat to his displeasure, was sofar from allaying, that it greatly increased, his partner's dispositionto laughter. She could scarce compose herself while she replied, "If youhad thought my hand so formidable," extricating it from his hold, "youwould not have grasped it so hard; but I perceive you know me so fully,that there is no occasion to show you my face."
"Fair Catherine," said the page, "he were unworthy ever to have seenyou, far less to have dwelt so long in the same service, and under thesame roof with you, who could mistake your air, your gesture, your stepin walking or in dancing, the turn of your neck, the symmetry of yourform--none could be so dull as not to recognize you by so many proofs;but for me, I could swear even to that tress of hair that escapes fromunder your muffler."
"And to the face, of course, which that muffler covers," said themaiden, removing her veil, and in an instant endeavouring to replace it.She showed the features of Catherine; but an unusual degree of petulantimpatience inflamed them, when, from some awkwardness in her managementof the muffler, she was unable again to adjust it with that dexteritywhich was a principal accomplishment of the coquettes of the time.
"The fiend rive the rag to tatters!" said the damsel, as the veilfluttered about her shoulders, with an accent so earnest and decided,that it made the page start. He looked again at the damsel's face, butthe information which his eyes received, was to the same purport asbefore. He assisted her to adjust her muffler, and both were foran instant silent. The damsel spoke first, for Roland Graeme wasoverwhelmed with surprise at the contrarieties which Catherine Seytonseemed to include in her person and character.
"You are surprised," said the damsel to him, "at what you see andhear--But the times which make females men, are least of all fitted formen to become women; yet you yourself are in danger of such a change."
"I in danger of becoming effeminate!" said the page.
"Yes, you, for all the boldness of your reply," said the damsel. "Whenyou should hold fast your religion, because it is assailed on all sidesby rebels, traitors, and heretics, you let it glide out of your breastlike water grasped in the hand. If you are driven from the faith ofyour fathers from fear of a traitor, is not that womanish?--If youare cajoled by the cunning arguments of a trumpeter of heresy, or thepraises of a puritanic old woman, is not that womanish?--If you arebribed by the hope of spoil and preferment, is not that womanish?--Andwhen you wonder at my venting a threat or an execration, should you notwonder at yourself, who, pretending to a gentle name and aspiringto knighthood, can be at the same time cowardly, silly, andself-interested!"
"I would that a man would bring such a charge," said the page; "heshould see, ere his life was a minute older, whether he had cause toterm me coward or no."
"Beware of such big words," answered the maiden; "you said but anon thatI sometimes wear hose and doublet."
"But remain still Catharine Seyton, wear what you list," said the page,endeavouring again to possess himself of her hand.
"You indeed are pleased to call me so," replied the maiden, evading hisintention, "but I have many other names besides."
"And will you not reply to that," said the page, "by which you aredistinguished beyond every other maiden in Scotland?"
The damsel, unallured by his praises, still kept aloof, and sung withgaiety a verse from an old ballad,
"Oh, some do call me Jack, sweet love, And some do call me Gill; But when I ride to Holyrood, My name is Wilful Will."
"Wilful Will" exclaimed the page, impatiently; "say rather Will o' theWisp--Jack with the Lantern--for never was such a deceitful or wanderingmeteor!"
"If I be such," replied the maiden, "I ask no fools to follow me--Ifthey do so, it is at their own pleasure, and must be on their own properperil."
"Nay, but, dearest Catherine," said Roland Graeme, "be for one instantserious."
"If you will call me your dearest Catherine, when I have given you somany names to choose upon," replied the damsel, "I would ask you how,supposing me for two or three hours of my life escaped from yondertower, you have the cruelty to ask me to be serious during the onlymerry moments I have seen perhaps for months?"
"Ay, but, fair Catherine, there are moments of deep and true feeling,which are worth ten thousand years of the liveliest mirth; and such wasthat of yesterday, when you so nearly--"
"So nearly what?" demanded the damsel, hastily.
"When you approached your lips so near to the sign you had traced on myforehead."
"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed she, in a yet fiercer tone, and with amore masculine manner than she had yet exhibited,-"Catherine Seytonapproach her lips to a man's brow, and thou that man!--vassal, thouliest!"
The page stood astonished; but, conceiving he had alarmed the damsel'sdelicacy by alluding to the enthusiasm of a moment, and the manner inwhich she had expressed it, he endeavoured to falter forth an apology.His excuses, though he was unable to give them any regular shape, wereaccepted by his companion, who had indeed suppressed her indignationafter its first explosion--"Speak no more on't," she said. "And now letus part; our conversation may attract more notice than is convenient foreither of us."
"Nay, but allow me at least to follow you to some sequestered place."
"You dare not," replied the maiden.
"How," said the youth, "dare not? where is it you dare go, where I darenot follow?"
"You fear a Will o' the Wisp," said the damsel; "how would you face afiery dragon, with an enchantress mounted on its back?"
"Like Sir Eger, Sir Grime, or Sir Greysteil," said the page; "but bethere such toys to be seen here?"
"I go to Mother Nicneven's," answered the maid; "and she is witch enoughto rein the horned devil, with a red silk thread for a bridle, and arowan-tree switch for a whip."
"I will follow you," said the page.
"Let it be at some distance," said the maiden.
And wrapping her mantle round her with more success than on her formerattempt, she mingled with the throng, and walked towards the village,heedfully followed by Roland Graeme at some distance, and underevery precaution which he could use to prevent his purpose from beingobserved.