The Abbot

Chapter 21

At the gate of the court-yard of Lochleven appeared the stately form

of the Lady Lochleven, a female whose early charms had captivated

James V., by whom she became mother of the celebrated Regent Murray.

As she was of noble birth (being a daughter of the house of Mar) and

of great beauty, her intimacy with James did not prevent her being

afterwards sought in honourable marriage by many gallants of the time,

among whom she had preferred Sir William Douglas of Lochleven. But

well has it been said

In every respect, the unfortunate Queen Mary, now the compulsory

guest, or rather prisoner, of this sullen lady, was obnoxious to her

hostess. Lady Lochleven disliked her as the daughter of Mary of

Guise, the legal possessor of those rights over James's heart and

hand, of which she conceived herself to have been injuriously

deprived; and yet more so as the professor of a religion which she

detested worse than Paganism.

Such was the dame, who, with stately mien, and sharp yet handsome

features, shrouded by her black velvet coif, interrogated the domestic

who steered her barge to the shore, what had become of Lindesay and

Sir Robert Melville. The man related what had passed, and she smiled

scornfully as she replied, "Fools must be flattered, not foughten

with.--Row back--make thy excuse as thou canst--say Lord Ruthven hath

already reached this castle, and that he is impatient for Lord

Lindesay's presence. Away with thee, Randal--yet stay--what galopin

is that thou hast brought hither?"

"So please you, my lady, he is the page who is to wait upon----"

"Ay, the new male minion," said the Lady Lochleven; "the female

attendant arrived yesterday. I shall have a well-ordered house with

this lady and her retinue; but I trust they will soon find some others

to undertake such a charge. Begone, Randal--and you" (to Roland

Graeme) "follow me to the garden."

She led the way with a slow and stately step to the small garden,

which, enclosed by a stone wall ornamented with statues, and an

artificial fountain in the centre, extended its dull parterres on the

side of the court-yard, with which it communicated by a low and arched

portal. Within the narrow circuit of its formal and limited walks,

Mary Stewart was now learning to perform the weary part of a prisoner,

which, with little interval, she was doomed to sustain during the

remainder of her life. She was followed in her slow and melancholy

exercise by two female attendants; but in the first glance which

Roland Graeme bestowed upon one so illustrious by birth, so

distinguished by her beauty, accomplishments, and misfortunes, he was

sensible of the presence of no other than the unhappy Queen of

Scotland.

Her face, her form, have been so deeply impressed upon the

imagination, that even at the distance of nearly three centuries, it

is unnecessary to remind the most ignorant and uninformed reader of

the striking traits which characterize that remarkable countenance,

which seems at once to combine our ideas of the majestic, the

pleasing, and the brilliant, leaving us to doubt whether they express

most happily the queen, the beauty, or the accomplished woman. Who is

there, that, at the very mention of Mary Stewart's name, has not her

countenance before him, familiar as that of the mistress of his youth,

or the favourite daughter of his advanced age? Even those who feel

themselves compelled to believe all, or much, of what her enemies laid

to her charge, cannot think without a sigh upon a countenance

expressive of anything rather than the foul crimes with which she was

charged when living, and which still continue to shade, if not to

blacken, her memory. That brow, so truly open and regal--those

eyebrows, so regularly graceful, which yet were saved from the charge

of regular insipidity by the beautiful effect of the hazel eyes which

they overarched, and which seem to utter a thousand histories--the

nose, with all its Grecian precision of outline--the mouth, so well

proportioned, so sweetly formed, as if designed to speak nothing but

what was delightful to hear--the dimpled chin--the stately swan-like

neck, form a countenance, the like of which we know not to have

existed in any other character moving in that class of life, where the

actresses as well as the actors command general and undivided

attention. It is in vain to say that the portraits which exist of this

remarkable woman are not like each other; for, amidst their

discrepancy, each possesses general features which the eye at once

acknowledges as peculiar to the vision which our imagination has

raised while we read her history for the first time, and which has

been impressed upon it by the numerous prints and pictures which we

have seen. Indeed we cannot look on the worst of them, however

deficient in point of execution, without saying that it is meant for

Queen Mary; and no small instance it is of the power of beauty, that

her charms should have remained the subject not merely of admiration,

but of warm and chivalrous interest, after the lapse of such a length

of time. We know that by far the most acute of those who, in latter

days, have adopted the unfavourable view of Mary's character, longed,

like the executioner before his dreadful task was performed, to kiss

the fair hand of her on whom he was about to perform so horrible a

duty.

Dressed, then, in a deep mourning robe, and with all those charms of

face, shape, and manner, with which faithful tradition has made each

reader familiar, Mary Stewart advanced to meet the Lady of Lochleven,

who, on her part, endeavoured to conceal dislike and apprehension

under the appearance of respectful indifference. The truth was, that

she had experienced repeatedly the Queen's superiority in that species

of disguised yet cutting sarcasm, with which women can successfully

avenge themselves, for real and substantial injuries. It may be well

doubted, whether this talent was not as fatal to its possessor as the

many others enjoyed by that highly gifted, but most unhappy female;

for, while it often afforded her a momentary triumph over her keepers,

it failed not to exasperate their resentment; and the satire and

sarcasm in which she had indulged were frequently retaliated by the

deep and bitter hardships which they had the power of inflicting. It

is well known that her death was at length hastened by a letter which

she wrote to Queen Elizabeth, in which she treated her jealous rival,

and the Countess of Shrewsbury, with the keenest irony and ridicule.

As the ladies met together, the Queen said, bending her head at the

same time, in return to the obeisance of the Lady Lochleven, "We are

this day fortunate--we enjoy the company of our amiable hostess at an

unusual hour, and during a period which we have hitherto been

permitted to give to our private exercise. But our good hostess knows

well she has at all times access to our presence, and need not observe

the useless ceremony of requiring our permission."

"I am sorry my presence is deemed an intrusion by your Grace," said

the Lady of Lochleven. "I came but to announce the arrival of an

addition to your train," motioning with her hand towards Roland

Graeme; "a circumstance to which ladies are seldom indifferent."

"Oh! I crave your ladyship's pardon; and am bent to the earth with

obligations for the kindness of my nobles--or my sovereigns, shall I

call them?--who have permitted me such a respectable addition to my

personal retinue."

"They have indeed studied, Madam," said the Lady of Lochleven, "to

show their kindness towards your Grace--something at the risk perhaps

of sound policy, and I trust their doings will not be misconstrued."

"Impossible!" said the Queen; "the bounty which permits the daughter

of so many kings, and who yet is Queen of the realm, the attendance of

two waiting-women and a boy, is a grace which Mary Stewart can never

sufficiently acknowledge. Why! my train will be equal to that of any

country dame in this your kingdom of Fife, saving but the lack of a

gentleman-usher, and a pair or two of blue-coated serving-men. But I

must not forget, in my selfish joy, the additional trouble and charges

to which this magnificent augmentation of our train will put our kind

hostess, and the whole house of Lochleven. It is this prudent anxiety,

I am aware, which clouds your brows, my worthy lady. But be of good

cheer; the crown of Scotland has many a fair manor, and your

affectionate son, and my no less affectionate brother, will endow the

good knight your husband with the best of them, ere Mary should be

dismissed from this hospitable castle from your ladyship's lack of

means to support the charges."

"The Douglasses of Lochleven, madam," answered the lady, "have known

for ages how to discharge their duty to the State, without looking for

reward, even when the task was both irksome and dangerous."

"Nay! but, my dear Lochleven," said the Queen, "you are over

scrupulous--I pray you accept of a goodly manor; what should support

the Queen of Scotland in this her princely court, saving her own

crown-lands--and who should minister to the wants of a mother, save an

affectionate son like the Earl of Murray, who possesses so wonderfully

both the power and inclination?--Or said you it was the danger of the

task which clouded your smooth and hospitable brow?--No doubt, a page

is a formidable addition to my body-guard of females; and I bethink me

it must have been for that reason that my Lord of Lindesay refused

even now to venture within the reach of a force so formidable, without

being attended by a competent retinue."

The Lady Lochleven started, and looked something surprised; and Mary

suddenly changing her manner from the smooth ironical affectation of

mildness to an accent of austere command, and drawing up at the same

time her fine person, said, with the full majesty of her rank, "Yes!

Lady of Lochleven; I know that Ruthven is already in the castle, and

that Lindesay waits on the bank the return of your barge to bring him

hither along with Sir Robert Melville. For what purpose do these

nobles come--and why am I not in ordinary decency apprised of their

arrival?"'

"Their purpose, madam," replied the Lady of Lochleven, "they must

themselves explain--but a formal annunciation were needless, where

your Grace hath attendants who can play the espial so well."

"Alas! poor Fleming," said the Queen, turning to the elder of the

female attendants, "thou wilt be tried, condemned, and gibbeted, for a

spy in the garrison, because thou didst chance to cross the great hall

while my good Lady of Lochleven was parleying at the full pitch of her

voice with her pilot Randal. Put black wool in thy ears, girl, as you

value the wearing of them longer. Remember, in the Castle of

Lochleven, ears and tongues are matters not of use, but for show

merely. Our good hostess can hear, as well as speak, for us all. We

excuse your farther attendance, my lady hostess," she said, once more

addressing the object of her resentment, "and retire to prepare for an

interview with our rebel lords. We will use the ante-chamber of our

sleeping apartment as our hall of audience. You, young man," she

proceeded, addressing Roland Graeme, and at once softening the

ironical sharpness of her manner into good-humoured raillery, "you,

who are all our male attendance, from our Lord High Chamberlain down

to our least galopin, follow us to prepare our court."

She turned, and walked slowly towards the castle. The Lady of

Lochleven folded her arms, and smiled in bitter resentment, as she

watched her retiring steps.

"The whole male attendance!" she muttered, repeating the Queen's last

words, "and well for thee had it been had thy train never been

larger;" then turning to Roland, in whose way she had stood while

making this pause, she made room for him to pass, saying at the same

time, "Art thou already eaves-dropping? follow thy mistress, minion,

and, if thou wilt, tell her what I have now said."

Roland Graeme hastened after his royal mistress and her attendants,

who had just entered a postern-gate communicating betwixt the castle

and the small garden. They ascended a winding-stair as high as the

second story, which was in a great measure occupied by a suite of

three rooms, opening into each other, and assigned as the dwelling of

the captive Princess. The outermost was a small hall or ante-room,

within which opened a large parlour, and from that again the Queen's

bedroom. Another small apartment, which opened into the same parlour,

contained the beds of the gentlewomen in waiting.

Roland Graeme stopped, as became his station, in the outermost of

these apartments, there to await such orders as might be communicated

to him. From the grated window of the room he saw Lindesay, Melville,

and their followers disembark; and observed that they were met at the

castle gate by a third noble, to whom Lindesay exclaimed, in his loud

harsh voice, "My Lord of Ruthven, you have the start of us!"

At this instant, the page's attention was called to a burst of

hysterical sobs from the inner apartment, and to the hurried

ejaculations of the terrified females, which led him almost instantly

to hasten to their assistance. When he entered, he saw that the Queen

had thrown herself into the large chair which stood nearest the door,

and was sobbing for breath in a strong fit of hysterical affection.

The elder female supported her in her arms, while the younger bathed

her face with water and with tears alternately.

"Hasten, young man!" said the elder lady, in alarm, "fly--call in

assistance--she is swooning!"

But the Queen ejaculated in a faint and broken voice, "Stir not, I

charge you!--call no one to witness--I am better--I shall

recover instantly." And, indeed, with an effort which seemed like that

of one struggling for life, she sate up in her chair, and endeavoured

to resume her composure, while her features yet trembled with the

violent emotion of body and mind which she had undergone. "I am

ashamed of my weakness, girls," she said, taking the hands of her

attendants; "but it is over--and I am Mary Stewart once more. The

savage tone of that man's voice--my knowledge of his insolence--

the name which he named--the purpose for which they come--may

excuse a moment's weakness, and it shall be a moment's only." She

snatched from her head the curch or cap, which had been disordered

during her hysterical agony, shook down the thick clustered tresses of

dark brown which had been before veiled under it--and, drawing her

slender fingers across the labyrinth which they formed, she arose from

the chair, and stood like the inspired image of a Grecian prophetess

in a mood which partook at once of sorrow and pride, of smiles and of

tears. "We are ill appointed," she said, "to meet our rebel subjects;

but, as far as we may, we will strive to present ourselves as becomes

their Queen. Follow me, my maidens," she said; "what says thy

favourite song, my Fleming?

"To the death, madam," said Graeme, in a determined tone.

"Then keep the door of mine apartment," said the Queen; "keep it till

they offer actual violence, or till we shall be fitly arrayed to

receive these intrusive visiters."

"I will defend it till they pass over my body," said Roland Graeme;

any hesitation which he had felt concerning the line of conduct he

ought to pursue being completely swept away by the impulse of the

moment.

"Not so, my good youth," answered Mary; "not so, I command. If I have

one faithful subject beside me, much need, God wot, I have to care for

his safety. Resist them but till they are put to the shame of using

actual violence, and then give way, I charge you. Remember my

commands." And, with a smile expressive at once of favour and of

authority, she turned from him, and, followed by her attendants,

entered the bedroom.

The youngest paused for half a second ere she followed her companion,

and made a signal to Roland Graeme with her hand. He had been already

long aware that this was Catherine Seyton--a circumstance which could

not much surprise a youth of quick intellects, who recollected the

sort of mysterious discourse which had passed betwixt the two matrons

at the deserted nunnery, and on which his meeting with Catherine in

this place seemed to cast so much light. Yet such was the engrossing

effect of Mary's presence, that it surmounted for the moment even the

feelings of a youthful lover; and it was not until Catherine Seyton

had disappeared, that Roland began to consider in what relation they

were to stand to each other. "She held up her hand to me in a

commanding manner," he thought; "perhaps she wanted to confirm my

purpose for the execution of the Queen's commands; for I think she

could scarce purpose to scare me with the sort of discipline which she

administered to the groom in the frieze-jacket, and to poor Adam

Woodcock. But we will see to that anon; meantime, let us do justice to

the trust reposed in us by this unhappy Queen. I think my Lord of

Murray will himself own that it is the duty of a faithful page to

defend his lady against intrusion on her privacy."

Accordingly, he stepped to the little vestibule, made fast, with lock

and bar, the door which opened from thence to the large staircase, and

then sat himself down to attend the result. He had not long to wait--a

rude and strong hand first essayed to lift the latch, then pushed and

shook the door with violence, and, when it resisted his attempt to

open it, exclaimed, "Undo the door there, you within!"

"Why, and at whose command," said the page, "am I to undo the door

of the apartments of the Queen of Scotland?"

Another vain attempt, which made hinge and bolt jingle, showed that

the impatient applicant without would willingly have entered

altogether regardless of his challenge; but at length an answer was

returned.

"Undo the door, on your peril--the Lord Lindesay comes to speak with

the Lady Mary of Scotland."

"The Lord Lindesay, as a Scottish noble," answered the page, "must

await his Sovereign's leisure."

An earnest altercation ensued amongst those without, in which Roland

distinguished the remarkable harsh voice of Lindesay in reply to Sir

Robert Melville, who appeared to have been using some soothing

language--"No! no! no! I tell thee, no! I will place a petard against

the door rather than be baulked by a profligate woman, and bearded by

an insolent footboy."

"Yet, at least," said Melville, "let me try fair means in the first

instance. Violence to a lady would stain your scutcheon for ever. Or

await till my Lord Ruthven comes."

"I will await no longer," said Lindesay; "it is high time the business

were done, and we on our return to the council. But thou mayest try

thy fair play, as thou callest it, while I cause my train to prepare

the petard. I came hither provided with as good gunpowder as blew up

the Kirk of Field."

"For God's sake, be patient," said Melville; and, approaching the

door, he said, as speaking to those within, "Let the Queen know, that

I, her faithful servant, Robert Melville, do entreat her, for her own

sake, and to prevent worse consequences, that she will undo the door,

and admit Lord Lindesay, who brings a mission from the Council of

State."

"I will do your errand to the Queen," said the page, "and report to

you her answer."

He went to the door of the bedchamber, and tapping against it gently,

it was opened by the elderly lady, to whom he communicated his errand,

and returned with directions from the Queen to admit Sir Robert

Melville and Lord Lindesay. Roland Graeme returned to the vestibule,

and opened the door accordingly, into which the Lord Lindesay strode,

with the air of a soldier who has fought his way into a conquered

fortress; while Melville, deeply dejected, followed him more slowly.

"I draw you to witness, and to record," said the page to this last,

"that, save for the especial commands of the Queen, I would have made

good the entrance, with my best strength, and my best blood, against

all Scotland."

"Be silent, young man," said Melville, in a tone of grave rebuke; "add

not brands to fire--this is no time to make a flourish of thy boyish

chivalry."

"She has not appeared even yet," said Lindesay, who had now reached

the midst of the parlour or audience-room; "how call you this

trifling?"

"Patience, my lord," replied Sir Robert, "time presses not--and Lord

Ruthven hath not as yet descended."

At this moment the door of the inner apartment opened, and Queen Mary

presented herself, advancing with an air of peculiar grace and

majesty, and seeming totally unruffled, either by the visit, or by the

rude manner in which it had been enforced. Her dress was a robe of

black velvet; a small ruff, open in front, gave a full view of her

beautifully formed chin and neck, but veiled the bosom. On her head

she wore a small cap of lace, and a transparent white veil hung from

her shoulders over the long black robe, in large loose folds, so that

it could be drawn at pleasure over the face and person. She wore a

cross of gold around her neck, and had her rosary of gold and ebony

hanging from her girdle. She was closely followed by her two ladies,

who remained standing behind her during the conference. Even Lord

Lindesay, though the rudest noble of that rude age, was surprised into

something like respect by the unconcerned and majestic mien of her,

whom he had expected to find frantic with impotent passion, or

dissolved in useless and vain sorrow, or overwhelmed with the fears

likely in such a situation to assail fallen royalty.

"We fear we have detained you, my Lord of Lindesay," said the Queen,

while she curtsied with dignity in answer to his reluctant obeisance;

"but a female does not willingly receive her visiters without some

minutes spent at the toilette. Men, my lord, are less dependant on

such ceremonies."

Lord Lindesay, casting his eye down on his own travel-stained and

disordered dress, muttered something of a hasty journey, and the Queen

paid her greeting to Sir Robert Melville with courtesy, and even, as

it seemed, with kindness. There was then a dead pause, during which

Lindesay looked towards the door, as if expecting with impatience the

colleague of their embassy. The Queen alone was entirely

unembarrassed, and, as if to break the silence, she addressed Lord

Lindesay, with a glance at the large and cumbrous sword which he wore,

as already mentioned, hanging from his neck.

"You have there a trusty and a weighty travelling companion, my lord.

I trust you expected to meet with no enemy here, against whom such a

formidable weapon could be necessary? it is, methinks, somewhat a

singular ornament for a court, though I am, as I well need to be, too

much of a Stuart to fear a sword."

"It is not the first time, madam," replied Lindesay, bringing round

the weapon so as to rest its point on the ground, and leaning one hand

on the huge cross-handle, "it is not the first time that this weapon

has intruded itself into the presence of the House of Stewart."

"Possibly, my lord," replied the Queen, "it may have done service to

my ancestors--Your ancestors were men of loyalty"

"Ay, madam," replied he, "service it hath done; but such as kings love

neither to acknowledge nor to reward. It was the service which the

knife renders to the tree when trimming it to the quick, and depriving

it of the superfluous growth of rank and unfruitful suckers, which rob

it of nourishment."

"You talk riddles, my lord," said Mary; "I will hope the explanation

carries nothing insulting with it."

"You shall judge, madam," answered Lindesay. "With this good sword was

Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, girded on the memorable day when he

acquired the name of Bell-the-Cat, for dragging from the presence of

your great grandfather, the third James of the race, a crew of

minions, flatterers, and favourites whom he hanged over the bridge of

Lauder, as a warning to such reptiles how they approach a Scottish

throne. With this same weapon, the same inflexible champion of

Scottish honour and nobility slew at one blow Spens of Kilspindie, a

courtier of your grandfather, James the fourth, who had dared to speak

lightly of him in the royal presence. They fought near the brook of

Fala; and Bell-the-Cat, with this blade, sheared through the thigh of

his opponent, and lopped the limb as easily as a shepherd's boy slices

a twig from a sapling."

"My lord," replied the Queen, reddening, "my nerves are too good to be

alarmed even by this terrible history--May I ask how a blade so

illustrious passed from the House of Douglas to that of

Lindesay?--Methinks it should have been preserved as a consecrated

relic, by a family who have held all that they could do against their

king, to be done in favour of their country."

"Nay, madam," said Melville, anxiously interfering, "ask not that

question of Lord Lindesay--And you, my lord, for shame--for decency--

forbear to reply to it."

"It is time that this lady should hear the truth," replied Lindesay.

"And be assured," said the Queen, "that she will be moved to anger by

none that you can tell her, my lord. There are cases in which just

scorn has always the mastery over just anger."

"Then know," said Lindesay, "that upon the field of Carberry-hill,

when that false and infamous traitor and murderer, James, sometime

Earl of Bothwell, and nicknamed Duke of Orkney, offered to do personal

battle with any of the associated nobles who came to drag him to

justice, I accepted his challenge, and was by the noble Earl of Morton

gifted with his good sword that I might therewith fight it out--Ah! so

help me Heaven, had his presumption been one grain more, or his

cowardice one grain less, I should have done such work with this good

steel on his traitorous corpse, that the hounds and carrion-crows

should have found their morsels daintily carved to their use !"

The Queen's courage well-nigh gave way at the mention of Bothwell's

name--a name connected with such a train of guilt, shame, and

disaster. But the prolonged boast of Lindesay gave her time to rally

herself, and to answer with an appearance of cold contempt--"It is

easy to slay an enemy who enters not the lists. But had Mary Stewart

inherited her father's sword as well as his sceptre, the boldest of

her rebels should not upon that day have complained that they had no

one to cope withal. Your lordship will forgive me if I abridge this

conference. A brief description of a bloody fight is long enough to

satisfy a lady's curiosity; and unless my Lord of Lindesay has

something more important to tell us than of the deeds which old

Bell-the-Cat achieved, and how he would himself have emulated them,

had time and tide permitted, we will retire to our private apartment,

and you, Fleming, shall finish reading to us yonder little treatise

_Des Rodomontades Espagnolles_."

"Tarry, madam," said Lindesay, his complexion reddening in his turn,

"I know your quick wit too well of old to have sought an interview

that you might sharpen its edge at the expense of my honour. Lord

Ruthven and myself, with Sir Robert Melville as a concurrent, come to

your Grace on the part of the Secret Council, to tender to you what

much concerns the safety of your own life and the welfare of the

State."

"The Secret Council?" said the Queen; "by what powers can it subsist

or act, while I, from whom it holds its character, am here detained

under unjust restraint? But it matters not--what concerns the welfare

of Scotland shall be acceptable to Mary Stewart, come from whatever

quarter it will--and for what concerns her own life, she has lived

long enough to be weary of it, even at the age of twenty-five.--Where

is your colleague, my lord?--why tarries he?"

"He comes, madam," said Melville, and Lord Ruthven entered at the

instant, holding in his hand a packet. As the Queen returned his

salutation she became deadly pale, but instantly recovered herself by

dint of strong and sudden resolution, just as the noble, whose

appearance seemed to excite such emotions in her bosom, entered the

apartment in company with George Douglas, the youngest son of the

Knight of Lochleven, who, during the absence of his father and

brethren, acted as Seneschal of the Castle, under the direction of the

elder Lady Lochleven, his father's mother.