The Abbot

Chapter 14

Involuntarily, as it were, Magdalen Graeme and the page stepped from

the station which hitherto they had occupied unnoticed, and approached

to the altar, as desirous of sharing the fate which approached the

monks, whatever that might be. Both bowed reverently low to the Abbot;

and while Magdalen seemed about to speak, the youth, looking towards

the main entrance, at which the noise now roared most loudly, and

which was at the same time assailed with much knocking, laid his hand

upon his dagger.

The Abbot motioned to both to forbear: "Peace, my sister," he said, in

a low tone, but which, being in a different key from the tumultuary

sounds without, could be distinctly heard, even amidst the

tumult;--"Peace," he said, "my sister; let the new Superior of Saint

Mary's himself receive and reply to the grateful acclamations of the

vassals, who come to celebrate 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, and polluted by blood-shedding, let it not, I

charge thee, happen through the 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, with dignity, and with a step which even the emergency of

danger rendered neither faltering nor precipitate, moved towards the

portal, and demanded to know, in a tone of authority, who it was that

disturbed their worship, and what they desired?

There was a moment's silence, and then a loud laugh from without. At

length a voice replied, "We desire entrance into the church; and when

the 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 Napoleon

Bonaparte, that there is but a single step between the sublime and

ridiculous; and it is a transition from one extreme to another; so

very easy, that the vulgar of every degree are peculiarly captivated

with it. Thus the inclination to laugh becomes uncontrollable, when

the solemnity and gravity of time, place, and circumstances, render it

peculiarly improper. Some species of general license, like that which

inspired the ancient Saturnalia, or the modern Carnival, has been

commonly indulged to the people at all times and in almost all

countries. But it was, I think, peculiar to the Roman Catholic Church,

that while they studied how to render their church rites imposing and

magnificent, by all that pomp, music, architecture, and external

display could add to them, they nevertheless connived, upon special

occasions, at the frolics of the rude vulgar, who, in almost all

Catholic countries, enjoyed, or at least assumed, the privilege of

making: some Lord of the revels, who, under the name of the Abbot of

Unreason, the Boy Bishop, or the President of Fools, occupied the

churches, profaned the holy places by a mock imitation of the sacred

rites, and sung indecent parodies on hymns of the church. The

indifference of the clergy, even when their power was greatest, to the

indecent exhibitions which they always tolerated, and sometimes

encouraged, forms a strong contrast to the sensitiveness with which

they regarded any serious attempt, by preaching or writing, to impeach

any of the doctrines of the church. It could only be compared to the

singular apathy with which they endured, and often admired the gross

novels which Chaucer, Dunbar, Boccacio, Bandello, and others, composed

upon the bad morals of the clergy. It seems as if the churchmen in

both instances had endeavoured to compromise with the laity, and

allowed them occasionally to gratify their coarse humour by indecent

satire, provided they would abstain from any grave question concerning

the foundation of the doctrines on which was erected such an immense

fabric of ecclesiastical power.

But the sports thus licensed assumed a very different appearance, so

soon as the Protestant doctrines began to prevail; and the license

which their forefathers had exercised in mere gaiety of heart, and

without the least intention of dishonouring religion by their frolics,

were now persevered in by the common people as a mode of testifying

their utter disregard for the Roman priesthood and its ceremonies.

I may observe, for example, the case of an apparitor sent to Borthwick

from the Primate of Saint Andrews, to cite the lord of that castle,

who was opposed by an Abbot of Unreason, at whose command the officer

of the spiritual court was appointed to be ducked in a mill-dam, and

obliged to eat up his parchment citation.

The reader may be amused with the following whimsical details of this

incident, which took place in the castle of Borthwick, in the year

1517. It appears, that in consequence of a process betwixt Master

George Hay de Minzeane and the Lord Borthwick, letters of

excommunication had passed against the latter, on account of the

contumacy of certain witnesses. William Langlands, an apparitor or

macer (_bacularius_) of the See of St Andrews, presented these

letters to the curate of the church of Borthwick, requiring him to

publish the same at the service of high mass. It seems that the

inhabitants of the castle were at this time engaged in the favourite

sport of enacting the Abbot of Unreason, a species of high jinks, in

which a mimic prelate was elected, who, like the Lord of Misrule in

England, turned all sort of lawful authority, and particularly the

church ritual, into ridicule. This frolicsome person with his retinue,

notwithstanding of the apparitor's character, entered the church,

seized upon the primate's officer without hesitation, and, dragging

him to the mill-dam on the south side of the castle, compelled him to

leap into the water. Not contented with this partial immersion, the

Abbot of Unreason pronounced, that Mr. William Langlands was not yet

sufficiently bathed, and therefore caused his assistants to lay him on

his back in the stream, and duck him in the most satisfactory and

perfect manner. The unfortunate apparitor was then conducted back to

the church, where, for his refreshment after his bath, the letters of

excommunication were torn to pieces, and steeped in a bowl of wine;

the mock abbot being probably of opinion that a tough parchment was

but dry eating, Langlands was compelled to eat the letters, and

swallow the wine, and dismissed by the Abbot of Unreason, with the

comfortable assurance, that if any more such letters should arrive

during the continuance 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 John

Oldcastle, when the former compels the church-officer to eat his

citation. The dialogue, which may be found in the note, contains most

of the jests which may be supposed, appropriate to such an

extraordinary occasion:

_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

parchment and wax, or I will make parchment of your skin, and beat

your brains into 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.

Thou shalt, eat no worse than thou bringest with thee. Thou bringest

it for my lord; 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 eat it 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

in your bailiff's rents, but you must come to a nobleman's house with

process! If the seal were broad as the lead which covers Rochester

Church, 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 beer in 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

this reply.

"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, and

leave his servants in peace. I speak this, as having lawful authority

to command here."

"Open the door," said another rude voice, "and we will try titles with

you, Sir Monk, and show you a superior we must all obey."

"Break open the doors if he dallies any longer," said a third, "and

down with the carrion monks who would bar us of our privilege!" A

general shout followed. "Ay, ay, our privilege! our privilege! down

with the doors, and with the lurdane monks, if they make opposition!"

The knocking was now exchanged for blows with great, hammers, to which

the 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 the assailants by an attempt at offering it, besought silence

earnestly, and with difficulty obtained a hearing. "My children," said

he, "I will save you from committing a great sin. The porter will

presently undo the gate--he is gone to fetch the keys--meantime I pray

you to consider with yourselves, if you are in a state of mind to

cross the holy threshold."

"Tillyvally for your papistry!" was answered from without; "we are in

the mood of the monks when they are merriest, and that is when they

sup beef-brewis for lanten-kail. So, if your porter hath not the gout,

let him come speedily, or we heave away readily.--Said I well,

comrades?"

"Bravely said, and it shall be as bravely done," said the multitude;

and had not the keys arrived at that moment, and the porter in hasty

terror performed his office, throwing open the great door, the

populace would have saved him the trouble. The instant he had done so,

the affrighted janitor fled, like one who has drawn the bolts of a

flood-gate, and expects to be overwhelmed by the rushing inundation.

The monks, with one consent, had withdrawn themselves behind the

Abbot, who alone kept his station, about three yards from the

entrance, showing no signs of fear or perturbation. His

brethren--partly encouraged by his devotion, partly ashamed to desert

him, and partly animated by a sense of duty.--remained huddled close

together, at the back of their Superior. There was a loud laugh and

huzza when the doors were opened; but, contrary to what might have

been expected, no crowd of enraged assailants rushed into the church.

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, as beseems

them."

The appearance of the crowd who were thus called to order, was

grotesque in the extreme. It was composed of men, women, and children,

ludicrously disguised in various habits, and presenting groups equally

diversified and 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, which was 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

among holyday gambols. It must be carefully separated from the wooden

chargers which furnish out our nurseries. It gives rise to Hamlet's

ejaculation,--

But oh, but oh, the hobby-horse is forgot!

There is a very comic scene in Beaumont and Fletcher's play of "Woman

Pleased," where Hope-on-high Bombye, a puritan cobbler, refuses to

dance with the hobby-horse. There was much difficulty and great

variety in the motions which the hobby-horse was expected to exhibit.

The learned Mr. Douce, who has contributed so much to the illustration

of our theatrical antiquities, has given us a full account of this

pageant, and the burlesque horsemanship which it practised.

"The hobby-horse," says Mr. Douce, "was represented by a man equipped

with as much pasteboard as was sufficient to form the head and hinder

parts of a horse, the quadrupedal defects being concealed by a long

mantle or footcloth that nearly touched the ground. The former, on

this occasion, exerted all his skill in burlesque horsemanship. In

Sympson's play of the Law-breakers, 1636, a miller personates the

hobby-horse, and being 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 he will; I hope our town-lads cannot want a

hobby-horse. Have I practised my reins, my careers, my prankers, my

ambles, my false trots, my smooth ambles, and Canterbury paces, and

shall master mayor put me beside the hobby-horse? Have I borrowed the

fore-horse bells, his plumes, his braveries; nay, had his mane new

shorn and frizzled, and shall the mayor put me beside the

hobby-horse?"

--_Douce's Illustrations_, vol. II. p. 468]

so often alluded to in our ancient drama; and which still flourishes

on the stage in the battle that concludes Bayes's tragedy. To rival

the address and agility displayed by this character, another personage

advanced in the more formidable character of a huge dragon, with

gilded wings, open jaws, and a scarlet tongue, cloven at the end,

which made various efforts to overtake and devour a lad, dressed as

the lovely Sabaea, daughter of the King of Egypt, who fled before him;

while a martial Saint George, grotesquely armed with a goblet for a

helmet, and a spit for a lance, ever and anon interfered, and

compelled the monster to relinquish his prey. A bear, a wolf, and one

or two other wild animals, played their parts with the discretion of

Snug the joiner; for the decided preference which they gave to the use

of their hind legs, was sufficient, without any formal annunciation,

to assure the most timorous spectators that they had to do with

habitual bipeds. There was a group of outlaws with Robin Hood and

Little John at their head

[Footnote: The representation of Robin Hood was the darling Maygame

both in England and Scotland, and doubtless the favourite

personification was often 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 the

opportunities which these sports afforded them of directing their own

satire and the ridicule of the lower orders against the Catholic

church, began to find that, when these purposes were served, their

favourite pastimes deprived them of the wish to attend divine worship,

and disturbed the frame of mind in which it can be attended to

advantage. The celebrated Bishop Latimer gives a very _naive_

account of the manner in which, bishop as he was, he found himself

compelled to give place to Robin Hood and his followers.

"I came once myselfe riding on a journey homeward from London, and I

sent word over night into the towne that I would preach there in the

morning, because it was holiday, and me thought it was a holidayes

worke. 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 in

the church,) and when I came there the church doore was fast locked.

I tarryed there halfe an houre and more. At last the key was found,

and one of the parish comes to me and said,--'Sir, this is a busie day

with us, we cannot hear you; it is Robin Hood's day. The parish are

gone abroad to gather for Robin Hood. I pray you let them not.' I was

faine there to give place to Robin Hood. I thought my rochet should

have been regarded, though I were not: but it would not serve, it was

faine to give 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 the pretence for gathering for Robin Hood, a traytour, and a

theif, to put out a preacher; to have his office lesse esteemed; to

preferre Robin Hood before the ministration of God's word; and all

this hath come of unpreaching prelates. This realme hath been ill

provided for, that it hath had such corrupt judgments in it, to prefer

Robin Hood to God's word."--_Bishop Latimer's sixth Sermon before

King Edward_.

While the English Protestants thus preferred the outlaw's pageant to

the preaching of their excellent Bishop, the Scottish calvinistic

clergy, with the celebrated John Knox at their head, and backed by the

authority of the magistrates of Edinburgh, who had of late been chosen

exclusively from this party, found it impossible to control the rage

of the populace, when they attempted to deprive them of the privilege

of presenting 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 the

samyne, causit ane cordinare servant, callit James Gillion takin of

befoir, for playing in Edr. with Robene Hude, to wnderly the law, and

put him to the knawlege of ane assyize qlk yaij haid electit of yair

favoraris, quha with schort deliberatioun condemnit him to be hangit

for ye said cryme. And the deaconis of ye craftismen fearing vproare,

maid great solistatuis at ye handis of ye said provost and baillies,

and als requirit John Knox, minister, for eschewing of tumult, to

superceid ye execution 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, ye said deaconis and craftismen sould convey him

yaire; quha answerit, yat yai culd na way stope ye executioun of

justice. Quhan ye time of ye said pouer mans hanging approchit, and

yat ye hangman wes c*m to ye jibbat with ye ledder, vpoune ye qlk ye

said cordinare should have bene hangit, ane certaine and remanent

craftischilder, quha wes put to ye horne with ye said Gillione, ffor

ye said Robene Huide's _playes_, and vyris yair assistaris and

favoraris, past to wappinis, and yai brak down ye said jibbat, and yan

chacit ye said provest, baillies, and Alexr. Guthrie, in ye said

Alexander's writing buith, and held yame yairin; and yairefter past to

ye tolbuyt, and becaus the samyne was steiket, and onnawayes culd get

the keyes thairof, thai brak the said tolbuith dore with foure

harberis, per force, (the said provest and baillies luckand thairon.)

and not onlie put thar the said Gillione to fredome and libertie, and

brocht him furth of the said tolbuit, bot alsua the remanent

presonaris being thairintill; and this done, the said craftismen's

servands, with the said condempnit cordonar, past doun to the

Netherbow, to have past furth thairat; bot becaus the samyne on thair

coming thairto wes closet, thai past vp agane the Hie streit of the

said bourghe to the Castellhill, and in this menetymne the saidis

provest and baillies, and thair assistaris being in the writing buith

of the said Alexr. Guthrie, past and enterit in the said tolbuyt, and

in the said servandes passage vp the Hie streit, then schote furth

thairof at thame ane dog, and hurt ane servand of the said childer.

This being done, thair wes nathing vthir but the one partie schuteand

out and castand stanes furth of the said tolbuyt, and the vther

pairtie schuteand hagbuttis in the same agane. Aund sua the

craftismen's servandis, aboue written, held and inclosit the said

provest and baillies continewallie in the said tolbuyth, frae three

houris efternone, quhill aught houris at even, and na man of the said

town prensit to relieve their said provest and baillies. And than thai

send to the maisters of the Castell, to caus tham if thai mycht stay

the said servandis, quha maid ane maner to do the same, bot thai could

not bring the same to ane finall end, ffor the said servands wold on

noways stay fra, quhill thai had revengit the hurting of ane of them;

and thairefter the constable of the castell come down thairfra, and he

with the said maisters treatet betwix the said pties in this

maner:--That the said provost and baillies sall remit to the said

craftischilder, all actioun, cryme, and offens that thai had committit

aganes thame in any tyme bygane; and band and oblast thame never to

pursew them thairfor; and als commandit thair maisters to resaue them

agane in thair services, as thai did befoir. And this being proclainit

at the mercat cross, thai scalit, and the said provest and bailies

come furth of the same tolbouyth." &c. &c. &c.

John Knox, who writes at large upon this tumult, informs us it was

inflamed by the deacons of craftes, who, resenting; the superiority

assumed over them by the magistrates, would yield no assistance to put

down the tumult. "They will be magistrates alone," said the recusant

deacons, "e'en let them rule the populace alone;" and accordingly they

passed quietly to take _their four-hours penny_, and left the

magistrates to help themselves as they could. Many persons were

excommunicated for this outrage, and not admitted to church ordinances

till they had made satisfaction.]

--the best representation exhibited at the time; and no great wonder,

since most of the actors were, by profession, the banished men and

thieves whom they presented. Other masqueraders there were, of a less

marked description. Men were disguised as women, and women as

men--children wore the dress of aged people, and tottered with

crutch-sticks in their hands, furred gowns on their little backs, and

caps on their round heads--while grandsires assumed the infantine tone

as well as the dress of children. Besides these, many had their faces

painted, and wore their shirts over the rest of their dress; while

coloured pasteboard and ribbons furnished out decorations for others.

Those who wanted all these properties, blacked their faces, and turned

their jackets inside out; and thus the transmutation of the whole

assembly into a set of mad grotesque mummers, was at once completed.

The pause which the masqueraders made, waiting apparently for some

person of the highest authority amongst them, gave those within the

Abbey Church full time to observe all these absurdities. They were at

no loss to comprehend their purpose and meaning.

Few readers can be ignorant, that at an early period, and during the

plenitude of her power, the Church of Rome not only connived at, but

even encouraged, such Saturnalian licenses as the inhabitants of

Kennaquhair and the neighbourhood had now in hand, and that the

vulgar, on such occasions, were not only permitted but encouraged by a

number of gambols, sometimes puerile and ludicrous, sometimes immoral

and profane, to indemnify themselves for the privations and penances

imposed on them at other seasons. But, of all other topics for

burlesque and ridicule, the rites and ceremonial of the church itself

were most frequently resorted to; and, strange to say, with the

approbation of the clergy themselves.

While the hierarchy flourished in full glory, they do not appear to

have dreaded the consequences of suffering the people to become so

irreverently familiar with things sacred; they then imagined the laity

to be much in the condition of the labourer's horse, which does not

submit to the bridle and the whip with greater reluctance, because, at

rare intervals, he is allowed to frolic at large in his pasture, and

fling out his heels in clumsy gambols at the master who usually drives

him. But, when times changed--when doubt of the Roman Catholic

doctrine, and hatred of their priesthood, had possessed the reformed

party, the clergy discovered, too late, that no small inconvenience

arose from the established practice of games and merry-makings, in

which they themselves, and all they held most sacred, were made the

subject of ridicule. It then became obvious to duller politicians than

the Romish churchmen, that the same actions have a very different

tendency when done in the spirit of sarcastic insolence and hatred,

than when acted merely in exuberance of rude and uncontrollable

spirits. They, therefore, though of the latest, endeavoured, where

they had any remaining influence, to discourage the renewal of these

indecorous festivities. In this particular, the Catholic clergy were

joined by most of the reformed preachers, who were more shocked at the

profanity and immorality of many of these exhibitions, than disposed

to profit by the ridiculous light in which they placed the Church of

Rome and her observances. But it was long ere these scandalous and

immoral sports could be abrogated;--the rude multitude continued

attached to their favourite pastimes, and, both in England and

Scotland, the mitre of the Catholic--the rochet of the reformed

bishop--and the cloak and band of the Calvinistic divine--were, in

turn, compelled to give place to those jocular personages, the Pope of

Fools, the Boy-Bishop, and the Abbot of Unreason. [Footnote: From the

interesting novel entitled Anastasius, it seems the same burlesque

ceremonies were practised in the Greek Church. ]

It was the latter personage who now, in full costume, made his

approach to the great door of the church of St. Mary's, accoutred in

such a manner as to form a caricature, or practical parody, on the

costume and attendants of the real Superior, whom he came to beard on

the very day of his installation, in the presence of his clergy, and

in the chancel of his church. The mock dignitary was a stout-made

under-sized fellow, whose thick squab form had been rendered grotesque

by a supplemental paunch, well stuffed. He wore a mitre of leather,

with the front like a grenadier's cap, adorned with mock embroidery,

and trinkets of tin. This surmounted 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, and cut into open work. On one shoulder

was fixed the painted figure of an owl; and he bore in the right hand

his pastoral staff, and in the left a small mirror having a handle to

it, thus resembling a celebrated jester, whose adventures, translated

into English, were whilom extremely popular, and which may still be

procured in black letter, for about one sterling pound per leaf.

The attendants of this mock dignitary had their proper dresses and

equipage, bearing the same burlesque resemblance to the officers of

the Convent which their leader did to the Superior. They followed

their leader in regular procession, and the motley characters, which

had waited his arrival, now crowded into the church in his train,

shouting as they came,--"A hall, a hall! for the venerable Father

Howleglas, the learned Monk of Misrule, and the Right Reverend Abbot

of Unreason!"

The discordant minstrelsy of every kind renewed its din; the boys

shrieked and howled, and the men laughed and hallooed, and the women

giggled and screamed, and the beasts roared, and the dragon wallopped

and hissed, and the hobby-horse neighed, pranced, and capered, and the

rest frisked and frolicked, clashing their hobnailed shoes against the

pavement, 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

indifferent spectator; the monks, whom personal apprehension and a

consciousness that much of the popular enjoyment arose from the

ridicule being directed against them, were, moreover, little comforted

by the reflection, that, bold in their disguise, the mummers who

whooped and capered around them, might, on slight provocation, turn

their jest into earnest, or at least proceed to those practical

pleasantries, which at all times arise so naturally out of the

frolicsome and mischievous disposition 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 the highest--looks which express that they

are devoid of all hope arising from their own exertions, and not very

confident in any success likely to attend those of their Palinurus.

The Abbot himself seemed at a stand; he felt no fear, but he was

sensible of the danger of expressing his rising indignation, which he

was scarcely able to suppress. He made a gesture with his hand as if

commanding silence, which was at first only replied to by redoubled

shouts, and peals of wild laughter. When, however, the same motion,

and as nearly in the same manner, had been made by Howleglas, it was

immediately obeyed by his riotous companions, who expected fresh food

for mirth in the conversation betwixt the real and mock Abbot, having

no small confidence in the vulgar wit and impudence of their leader.

Accordingly, they began to shout, "To it, fathers--to it I"--"Fight

monk, fight madcap--Abbot against Abbot is fair play, and so is reason

against unreason, and malice against monkery!"

"Silence, my mates!" said Howleglas; "cannot two learned Fathers of

the Church hold communion together, but you must come here with your

bear-garden whoop and hollo, as if you were hounding forth a mastiff

upon a mad bull? I say silence! and let this learned Father and me

confer, touching matters affecting our mutual state and authority."

"My children"-said Father Ambrose.

"_My_ children too,--and happy children they are!" said his

burlesque counterpart; "many a wise child knows not its own father,

and it is well they have two to choose betwixt."

"If thou hast aught in thee, save scoffing and ribaldry," said the

real Abbot, "permit me, for thine own soul's sake, to speak a few

words to these 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 this time a-day--I have beef, ale, and brandy-wine, with other

condiments not worth mentioning; and for speaking, man--why, speak

away, and we will have turn about, like honest fellows."

During this discussion the wrath of Magdalen Graeme had risen to the

uttermost; she approached the Abbot, and placing herself by his side,

said in a low and yet distinct tone-"Wake and arouse thee, Father--the

sword of Saint Peter is in thy hand--strike and avenge Saint Peter's

patrimony!--Bind them in the chains which, being riveted by the

church on earth, are riveted in Heaven--"

"Peace, sister!" said the Abbot; "let not their madness destroy our

discretion--I pray thee, peace, and let me do mine office. It is the

first, peradventure it may be the last time, I shall be called on to

discharge it."

"Nay, my holy brother!" said Howleglas, "I rede you, take the holy

sister'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 one word you have to say; so you had as well address

yourself to me who will."

To escape a conference so ludicrous, the Abbot again attempted an

appeal to what respectful feelings might yet remain amongst the

inhabitants of the Halidome, once so devoted to their spiritual

Superiors. Alas! the Abbot of Unreason had only to nourish his mock

crosier, and the whooping, the hallooing, and the dancing, were

renewed with a vehemence which would have defied the lungs of Stentor.

"And now, my mates," said the Abbot of Unreason, "once again dight

your gabs and be hushed-let us see if the c**k of Kennaquhair will

fight or flee the pit."

There was again a dead silence of expectation, of which Father Ambrose

availed himself to address his antagonist, seeing plainly that he

could gain an audience on no other terms. "Wretched man!" said he,

"hast thou no better employment for thy carnal wit, than to employ it

in leading these blind and helpless creatures into the pit of utter

darkness?"

"Truly, my brother," replied Howleglas, "I can see little difference

betwixt 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 of

pleasantry than that which should make thee tremble--no sounder jest

than thine own sins, and no better objects for laughter than those who

can absolve thee from the guilt of them!"

"Verily, my reverend brother," said the mock Abbot, "what you say

might be true, if, in laughing at hypocrites, I meant to laugh at

religion.--Oh, it is a precious thing to wear a long dress, with a

girdle and a cowl--we become a holy pillar of Mother Church, and a

boy must not play at ball against the walls for fear of breaking a

painted window!"

"And will you, my friends," said the Abbot, looking round and speaking

with a vehemence which secured him a tranquil audience for some

time,--"will you suffer a profane buffoon, within the very church of

God, to insult his ministers? Many of you--all of you, perhaps--have

lived under my holy predecessors, who were called upon to rule in this

church where I am called upon to suffer. If you have worldly goods,

they are their gift; and, when you scorned not to accept better

gifts--the mercy and forgiveness of the church--were they not ever at

your command?--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," said the

Abbot of Unreason; but his jest met in this instance but slight

applause, 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--to

assail 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

was once the light of the land, and whose daily prayer is, that they

may be removed 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, to revenge our temporal persecution; the tempest of

your wrath hath despoiled us of land, and deprived us almost of our

daily food, but we have not repaid it with the thunders of

excommunication--we only pray your leave to live and die within the

church which is our own, invoking God, 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 the

crowd had expected, produced an effect upon their feelings

unfavourable to the prosecution of their frolic. The morris-dancers

stood still--the hobby-horse surceased his capering--pipe and tabor

were mute, and "silence, like a heavy cloud," seemed to descend on the

once noisy rabble. Several of the beasts were obviously moved to

compunction; the bear could not restrain his sobs, and a huge fox was

observed to wipe his eyes with his tail. But in especial the dragon,

lately so formidably rampant, now relaxed the terror of his claws,

uncoiled his tremendous rings, and grumbled out of his fiery throat in

a repentant tone, "By the mass, I thought no harm in exercising our

old pastime, but an I had thought the good Father would have taken it

so to heart, I would as soon have played your devil, as your dragon."

In this momentary pause, the Abbot stood amongst the miscellaneous and

grotesque 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 you

not chosen me Abbot of Unreason, and is it lawful for any of you to

listen to common sense to-day? Was I not formally elected by you in

solemn chapter, held in Luckie Martin's change-house, and will you now

desert me, and give up your old pastime and privilege? Play out the

play--and he that speaks the next word of sense or reason, or bids us

think or consider, or the like of that, which befits not the day, I

will have him solemnly ducked in the mill-dam!"

The rabble, mutable as usual, huzzaed, the pipe and tabor struck up,

the hobby-horse pranced, the beasts roared, and even the repentant

dragon began again to coil up his spires, and prepare himself for

fresh gambols. But the Abbot might still have overcome, by his

eloquence and his entreaties, the malicious designs of the revellers,

had not Dame Magdalen Graeme given loose to the indignation which she

had long suppressed.

"Scoffers," she said, "and men of Belial--Blasphemous heretics, and

truculent 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 name

of Popes and Councils, and in the name of every Saint, from St.

Michael downward.

"My comrades!" said the Abbot of Unreason, "this good dame hath not

spoken a single word of reason, and therein may esteem herself free

from the law. But what she spoke was meant for reason, and, therefore,

unless she confesses and avouches all which she has said to be

nonsense, it shall pass for such, so far as to incur our statutes.

Wherefore, holy dame, pilgrim, or abbess, or whatever thou art, be

mute with thy mummery or beware the mill-dam. We will have neither

spiritual nor temporal scolds in our Diocese of Unreason!"

As he spoke thus, he extended his hand towards the old woman, while

his followers shouted, "A doom--a doom!" and prepared to second his

purpose, when lo! it was suddenly frustrated. Roland Graeme had

witnessed with indignation the insults offered to his old spiritual

preceptor, but yet had wit enough to reflect he could render him no

assistance, but might well, by ineffective interference, make matters

worse. But when he saw his aged relative in danger of personal

violence, he gave way to the natural impetuosity of his temper, and,

stepping forward, struck his poniard into the body of the Abbot of

Unreason, whom the blow instantly prostrated on the pavement.