The Monastery

Chapter 9

The Scottish laws, which were as wisely and judiciously made as they

were carelessly and ineffectually executed, had in vain endeavoured to

restrain the damage done to agriculture, by the chiefs and landed

proprietors retaining in their service what were called jack-men, from

the _jack_, or doublet, quilted with iron which they wore as

defensive armour. These military retainers conducted themselves with

great insolence towards the industrious part of the community--lived

in a great measure by plunder, and were ready to execute any commands

of their master, however unlawful. In adopting this mode of life, men

resigned the quiet hopes and regular labours of industry, for an

unsettled, precarious, and dangerous trade, which yet had such charms

for those once accustomed to it, that they became incapable of

following any other. Hence the complaint of John Upland, a fictitious

character, representing a countryman, into whose mouth the poets of

the day put their general satires upon men and manners.

Christie of the Clinthill, the horseman who now arrived at the little

Tower of Glendearg, was one of the hopeful company of whom the poet

complains, as was indicated by his "splent on spauld," (iron-plates on

his shoulder,) his rusted spurs, and his long lance. An iron

skull-cap, none of the brightest, bore for distinction a sprig of the

holly, which was Avenel's badge. A long two-edged straight sword,

having a handle made of polished oak, hung down by his side. The

meagre condition of his horse, and the wild and emaciated look of the

rider, showed their occupation could not be accounted an easy or a

thriving one. He saluted Dame Glendinning with little courtesy, and

the monk with less; for the growing, disrespect to the religious

orders had not failed to extend itself among a class of men of such

disorderly habits, although it may be supposed they were tolerably

indifferent alike to the new or the ancient doctrines.

"So, our lady is dead, Dame Glendinning?" said the jack-man; "my

master has sent you even now a fat bullock for her mart--it may serve

for her funeral. I have left him in the upper cleugh, as he is

somewhat kenspeckle, [Footnote: _Kenspeckle>/I>--that which is

easily recognized by the eye.] and is marked both with cut and

birn--the sooner the skin is off, and he is in saultfat, the less like

you are to have trouble--you understand me? Let me have a peck of corn

for my horse, and beef and beer for myself, for I must go on to the

Monastery--though I think this monk hero might do mine errand."

"Thine errand, rude man!" said the Sub-Prior, knitting his brows--

"For God's sake" cried poor Dame Glendinning, terrified at the idea of

a quarrel between them,--"O Christie!---it is the Sub-Prior--O

reverend sir, it is Christie of the Clinthill, the laird's chief

jack-man; ye know that little havings can be expected from the like o'

them."

"Are you a retainer of the Laird of Avenel?" said the monk, addressing

himself to the horseman, "and do you speak thus rudely to a Brother of

Saint Mary's, to whom thy master is so much beholden?"

"He means to be yet more beholden to your house, Sir Monk," answered

the fellow; "for hearing his sister-in-law, the widow of Walter of

Avenel, was on her death-bed, he sent me to say to the Father Abbot

and the brethren, that he will hold the funeral-feast at their

convent, and invites himself thereto, with a score of horse and some

friends, and to abide there for three days and three nights,--having

horse-meat and men's-meat at the charge of the community; of which his

intention he sends due notice, that fitting preparation may be

timeously made."

"Friend," said the Sub-Prior, "believe not that I will do to the

Father Abbot the indignity of delivering such an errand.--Think'st

thou the goods of the church were bestowed upon her by holy princes

and pious nobles, now dead and gone, to be consumed in revelry by

every profligate layman who numbers in his train more followers than

he can support by honest means, or by his own incomings? Tell thy

master, from the Sub-Prior of Saint Mary's, that the Primate hath

issued his commands to us that we submit no longer to this compulsory

exaction of hospitality on slight or false pretences. Our lands and

goods were given to relieve pilgrims and pious persons, not to feast

bands of rude soldiers."

"This to me!" said the angry spearman, "this to me and to my master

--Look to yourself then, Sir Priest, and try if _Ave_ and

_Credo_ will keep bullocks from wandering, and hay-stacks from

burning."

"Dost thou menace the Holy Church's patrimony with waste and

fire-raising," said the Sub-Prior, "and that in the face of the sun? I

call on all who hear me to bear witness to the words this ruffian has

spoken. Remember how the Lord James drowned such as you by scores in

the black pool at Jeddart.-To him and to the Primate will I complain."

The soldier shifted the position of his lance, and brought it down to

a level with the monk's body.

Dame Glendinning began to shriek for assistance. "Tibb Tacket! Martin!

where be ye all?--Christie, for the love of God, consider he is a man

of Holy Kirk!"

"I care not for his spear," said the Sub-Prior; "if I am slain in

defending the rights and privileges of my community, the Primate will

know how to take vengeance."

"Let him look to himself," said Christie, but at the same time

depositing his lance against the wall of the tower; "if the Fife men

spoke true who came hither with the Governor in the last raid, Norman

Leslie has him at feud, and is like to set him hard. We know Norman a

true bloodhound, who will never quit the slot. But I had no design to

offend the holy father," he added, thinking perhaps he had gone a

little too far; "I am a rude man, bred to lance and stirrup, and not

used to deal with book-learned men and priests; and I am willing to

ask his forgiveness--and his blessing, if I have said aught amiss."

"For God's sake! your reverence," said the widow of Glendearg apart to

the Sub-Prior, "bestow on him your forgiveness--how shall we poor folk

sleep in security in the dark nights, if the convent is at feud with

such men as he is?"

"You are right, dame," said the Sub-Prior, "your safety should, and

must be, in the first instance consulted.--Soldier, I forgive thee,

and may God bless thee and send thee honesty."

Christie of the Clinthill made an unwilling inclination with his head,

and muttered apart, "that is as much as to say, God send thee

starvation, But now to my master's demand, Sir Priest? What answer am

I to return?"

"That the body of the widow of Walter of Avenel," answered the Father,

"shall be interred as becomes her rank, and in the tomb of her valiant

husband. For your master's proffered visit of three days, with such a

company and retinue, I have no authority to reply to it; you must

intimate your Chief's purpose to the Reverend Lord Abbot."

"That will cost me a farther ride," said the man, "but it is all in

the day's work.--How now, my lad," said he to Halbert, who was

handling the long lance which he had laid aside; "how do you like such

a plaything?--will you go with me and be a moss-trooper?"

"The Saints in their mercy forbid!" said the poor mother; and then,

afraid of having displeased Christie by the vivacity of her

exclamation, she followed it up by explaining, that since Simon's

death she could not look on a spear or a bow, or any implement of

destruction without trembling.

"Pshaw!" answered Christie, "thou shouldst take another husband, dame,

and drive such follies out of thy thoughts--what sayst thou to such a

strapping lad as I? Why, this old tower of thine is fensible enough,

and there is no want of clenchs, and crags, and bogs, and thickets, if

one was set hard; a man might bide here and keep his half-score of

lads, and as many geldings, and live on what he could lay his hand on,

and be kind to thee, old wench."

"Alas! Master Christie," said the matron, "that you should talk to a

lone woman in such a fashion, and death in the house besides!"

"Lone woman!--why, that is the very reason thou shouldst take a mate.

Thy old friend is dead, why, good--choose thou another of somewhat

tougher frame, and that will not die of the pip like a young chicken.--

Better still--Come, dame, let me have something to eat, and we will talk

more of this."

Dame Elspeth, though she well knew the character of the man, whom in

fact she both disliked and feared, could not help simpering at the

personal address which he thought proper to make to her. She whispered

to the Sub-Prior, "ony thing just to keep him quiet," and went into

the tower to set before the soldier the food he desired, trusting

betwixt good cheer and the power of her own charms, to keep Christie

of the Clinthill so well amused, that the altercation betwixt him and

the holy father should not be renewed.

The Sub-Prior was equally unwilling to hazard any unnecessary rupture

between the community and such a person as Julian of Avenel. He was

sensible that moderation, as well as firmness, was necessary to

support the tottering cause of the Church of Rome; and that, contrary

to former times, the quarrels betwixt the clergy and laity had, in the

present, usually terminated to the advantage of the latter. He

resolved, therefore, to avoid farther strife by withdrawing, but

failed not, in the first place, to possess himself of the volume which

the Sacristan carried off the evening before, and which had been

returned to the glen in such a marvellous manner.

Edward, the younger of Dame Elspeth's boys, made great objections to

the book's being removed, in which Mary would probably have joined,

but that she was now in her little sleeping-chamber with Tibb, who was

exerting her simple skill to console the young lady for her mother's

death. But the younger Glendinning stood up in defence of her

property, and, with a positiveness which had hitherto made no part of

his character, declared, that now the kind lady was dead, the book was

Mary's, and no one but Mary should have it.

"But if it is not a fit book for Mary to read, my dear boy," said the

father, gently, "you would not wish it to remain with her?"

"The lady read it," answered the young champion of property; "and so

it could not be wrong--it shall not be taken away.--I wonder where

Halbert is?--listening to the bravading tales of gay Christie, I

reckon,--he is always wishing for fighting, and now he is out of the

way."

"Why, Edward, you would not fight with me, who am both a priest and

old man?"

"If you were as good a priest as the Pope," said the boy, "and as old

as the hills to boot, you shall not carry away Mary's book without her

leave. I will do battle for it."

"But see you, my love," said the monk, amused with the resolute

friendship manifested by the boy, "I do not take it; I only borrow it;

and I leave in its place my own gay missal, as a pledge I will bring

it again."

Edward opened the missal with eager curiosity, and glanced at the

pictures with which it was illustrated. "Saint George and the dragon--

Halbert will like that; and Saint Michael brandishing his sword over

the head of the Wicked One--and that will do for Halbert too. And see

the Saint John leading his lamb in the wilderness, with his little

cross made of reeds, and his scrip and staff--that shall be my

favourite; and where shall we find one for poor Mary?--here is a

beautiful woman weeping and lamenting herself."

"This is Saint Mary Magdalen repenting of her sins, my dear boy," said

the father.

"That will not suit _our_ Mary; for she commits no faults, and is

never angry with us, but when we do something wrong."

"Then," said the father, "I will show you a Mary, who will protect her

and you, and all good children. See how fairly she is represented,

with her gown covered with golden stars."

The boy was lost in wonder at the portrait of the Virgin, which the

Sub-Prior turned up to him.

"This," he said, "is really like our sweet Mary; and I think I will

let you take away the black book, that has no such goodly shows in it,

and leave this for Mary instead. But you must promise to bring back

the book, good father--for now I think upon it, Mary may like that

best which was her mother's."

"I will certainly return," said the monk, evading his answer, "and

perhaps I may teach you to write and read such beautiful letters as

you see there written, and to paint them blue, green, and yellow, and

to blazon them with gold."

"Ay, and to make such figures as these blessed Saints, and especially

these two Marys?" said the boy.

"With their blessing," said the Sub-Prior, "I can teach you that art

too, so far as I am myself capable of showing, and you of learning

it." "Then," said Edward, "will I paint Mary's picture--and remember

you are to bring back the black book; that you must promise me."

The Sub-Prior, anxious to get rid of the boy's pertinacity, and to set

forward on his return to the convent, without having any further

interview with Christie the galloper, answered by giving the promise

Edward required, mounted his mule, and set forth on his return

homeward.

The November day was well spent ere the Sub-Prior resumed his journey;

for the difficulty of the road, and the various delays which he had

met with at the tower, had detained him longer than he proposed. A

chill easterly wind was sighing among the withered leaves, and

stripping them from the hold they had yet retained on the parent

trees.

"Even so," said the monk, "our prospects in this vale of time grow

more disconsolate as the stream of years passes on. Little have I gained

by my journey, saving the certainty that heresy is busy among us with

more than his usual activity, and that the spirit of insulting religious

orders, and plundering the Church's property, so general in the eastern

districts of Scotland, has now come nearer home."

The tread of a horse which came up behind him, interrupted his reverie,

and he soon saw he was mounted by the same wild rider whom he had left

at the tower.

"Good even, my son, and benedicite," said the Sub-Prior as he passed;

but the rude soldier scarce acknowledged the greeting, by bending his

head; and dashing the spurs into his horse, went on at a pace which

soon left the monk and his mule far behind. And there, thought the

Sub-Prior, goes another plague of the times--a fellow whose birth

designed him to cultivate the earth, but who is perverted by the

unhallowed and unchristian divisions of the country, into a daring and

dissolute robber. The barons of Scotland are now turned masterful

thieves and ruffians, oppressing the poor by violence, and wasting the

Church, by extorting free-quarters from abbeys and priories, without

either shame or reason. I fear me I shall be too late to counsel the

Abbot to make a stand against these daring _sorners_ [Footnote:

To _sorne_, in Scotland, is to exact free quarters against the

will of the landlord. It is declared equivalent to theft, by a statute

passed in the year 1445. The great chieftains oppressed the

monasteries very much by exactions of this nature. The community of

Aberbrothwick complained of an Earl of Angus, I think, who was in the

regular habit of visiting them once a year, with a train of a thousand

horse, and abiding till the whole winter provisions of the convent

were exhausted.]--I must make haste." He struck his mule with his

riding wand accordingly; but, instead of mending her pace, the animal

suddenly started from the path, and the rider's utmost efforts could

not force her forward.

"Art thou, too, infected with the spirit of the times?" said the

Sub-Prior; "thou wert wont to be ready and serviceable, and art now as

restive as any wild jack-man or stubborn heretic of them all."

While he was contending with the startled animal, a voice, like that

of a female, chanted in his ear, or at least very close to it,

But the mule stood as if it had been rooted to the spot, backed from

the point to which it was pressed by its rider, and by her ears laid

close into her neck, and her eyes almost starting from their sockets,

testified that she was under great terror.

While the Sub-Prior, by alternate threats and soothing, endeavoured to

reclaim the wayward animal to her duty, the wild musical voice was again

heard close beside him.

The same voice replied,

"I used to doubt the existence of Cabalists and Rosicrucians," thought

the Sub-Prior, "but, by my Holy Order, I know no longer what to say!--

My pulse beats temperately--my hand is cool--I am fasting from

everything but sin, and possessed of my ordinary faculties--Either

some fiend is permitted to bewilder me, or the tales of Cornelius

Agrippa, Paracelsus, and others who treat of occult philosophy, are

not without foundation.--At the crook of the glen? I could have

desired to avoid a second meeting, but I am on the service of the

Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against me."

He moved around accordingly, but with precaution, and not without

fear; for he neither knew the manner in which, or the place where his

journey might be next interrupted by his invisible attendant. He

descended the glen without interruption for about a mile farther,

when, just at the spot where the brook approached the steep hill, with

a winding so abrupt as to leave scarcely room for a horse to pass, the

mule was again visited with the same symptoms of terror which had

before interrupted her course. Better acquainted than before with the

cause of her restiveness, the Priest employed no effort to make her

proceed, but addressed himself to the object, which he doubted not was

the same that had formerly interrupted him, in the words of solemn

exorcism prescribed by the Church of Rome on such occasions.

In reply to his demand, the voice again sung;--

With some exertion he collected himself, remounted the animal, and

meditating upon his wild adventure, descended the glen till its

junction with the broader valley through which the Tweed winds. The

drawbridge was readily dropped at his first summons; and so much had

he won upon the heart of the churlish warden, that Peter appeared

himself with a lantern to show the Sub-Prior his way over the perilous

pass.

"By my sooth, sir," he said, holding the light up to Father Eustace's

face, "you look sorely travelled and deadly pale--but a little matter

serves to weary out you men of the cell. I now who speak to you--I

have ridden--before I was perched up here on this pillar betwixt wind

and water--it may be thirty Scots miles before I broke my fast, and

have had the red of a bramble rose in my cheek all the while--But will

you taste some food, or a cup of distilled waters?"

"I may not," said Father Eustace, "being under a vow; but I thank you

for your kindness, and pray you to give what I may not accept to the

next poor pilgrim who comes hither pale and fainting, for so it shall

be the better both with him here, and with you hereafter."

"By my faith, and I will do so," said Peter Bridge-Ward, "even for thy

sake--It is strange now, how this Sub-Prior gets round one's heart

more than the rest of these cowled gentry, that think of nothing but

quaffing and stuffing!--Wife, I say--wife, we will give a cup of

distilled waters and a crust of bread unto the next pilgrim that comes

over; and ye may keep for [Footnote: An old-fashioned name for an

earthen jar for holding spirits.] the purpose the grunds of the last

greybeard, and the ill-baked bannock which the bairns couldna eat."

While Peter issued these charitable, and, at the same time, prudent

injunctions, the Sub-Prior, whose mild interference had awakened the

Bridge-Ward to such an act of unwonted generosity, was pacing onward

to the Monastery. In the way, he had to commune with and subdue his

own rebellious heart, an enemy, he was sensible, more formidable than

any which the external powers of Satan could place in his way.

Father Eustace had indeed strong temptation to suppress the

extraordinary incident which had befallen him, which he was the more

reluctant to confess, because he had passed so severe a judgment upon

Father Philip, who, as he was not unwilling to allow, had, on his

return from Glendearg, encountered obstacles somewhat similar to his

own. Of this the Sub-Prior was the more convinced, when, feeling in

his bosom for the Book which he had brought off from the Tower of

Glendearg, he found it was amissing, which he could only account for

by supposing it had been stolen from him during his trance.

"If I confess this strange visitation," thought the Sub-Prior, "I

become the ridicule of all my brethren--I whom the Primate sent hither

to be a watch, as it were, and a check upon their follies. I give the

Abbot an advantage over me which I shall never again recover, and

Heaven only knows how he may abuse it, in his foolish simplicity, to

the dishonour and loss of Holy Kirk.--But then, if I make not true

confession of my shame, with what face can I again presume to admonish

or restrain others?--Avow, proud heart," continued he, addressing

himself, "that the weal of Holy Church interests thee less in this

matter than thine own humiliation--Yes, Heaven has punished thee even

in that point in which thou didst deem thyself most strong, in thy

spiritual pride and thy carnal wisdom. Thou hast laughed at and

derided the inexperience of thy brethren--stoop thyself in turn to

their derision--tell what they may not believe--affirm that which they

will ascribe to idle fear, or perhaps to idle falsehood--sustain the

disgrace of a silly visionary, or a wilful deceiver.--Be it so, I will

do my duty, and make ample confession to my Superior. If the discharge

of this duty destroys my usefulness in this house, God and Our Lady

will send me where I can better serve them."

There was no little merit in the resolution thus piously and

generously formed by Father Eustace. To men of any rank the esteem of

their order is naturally most dear; but in the monastic establishment,

cut off, as the brethren are, from other objects of ambition, as well

as from all exterior friendship and relationship, the place which they

hold in the opinion of each other is all in all.

But the consciousness how much he should rejoice the Abbot and most of

the other monks of Saint Mary's, who were impatient of the

unauthorized, yet irresistible control, which he was wont to exercise

in the affairs of the convent, by a confession which would put him in

a ludicrous, or perhaps even in a criminal point of view, could not

weigh with Father Eustace in comparison with the task which his belief

enjoined.

As, strong in his feelings of duty, he approached the exterior gate of

the Monastery, he was surprised to see torches gleaming, and men

assembled around it, some on horseback, some on foot, while several of

the monks, distinguished through the night by their white scapularies,

were making themselves busy among the crowd. The Sub-Prior was

received with a unanimous shout of joy, which at once made him

sensible that he had himself been the object of their anxiety.

"There he is! there he is! God be thanked--there he is, hale and

fear!" exclaimed the vassals; while the monks exclaimed, "_Te Deum

laudamus_--the blood of thy servants is precious in thy sight!"

"What is the matter, children? what is the matter, my brethren?" said

Father Eustace, dismounting at the gate.

"Nay, brother, if thou know'st not, we will not tell thee till thou

art in the refectory," answered the monks; "suffice it that the Lord

Abbot had ordered these, our zealous and faithful vassals, instantly

to set forth to guard thee from imminent peril--Ye may ungirth your

horses, children, and dismiss; and to-morrow, each who was at this

rendezvous may send to the convent kitchen for a quarter of a yard of

roast beef, and a black-jack full of double ale." [Footnote: It was

one of the few reminiscences of Old Parr, or Henry Jenkins, I forget

which, that, at some convent in the veteran's neighbourhood, the

community, before the dissolution, used to dole out roast-beef in the

measure of feet and yards.]

The vassals dispersed with joyful acclamation, and the monks, with equal

jubilee, conducted the Sub-Prior into the refectory.