Gua Shen - "Meng Xi Bi Tan, Vol. 11 16 [1031 1095 A.D.]"

P. G. Wodehouse - "The Head of Kay's"

Paul Heyse - "Andrea Delfin"

Thomas Hardy - "Life's Little Ironies and a Few Crusted Characters"

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Books: The Monastery

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> The Monastery




The motherly, but coarse kindness of Dame Glendinning, and the doating
fondness of her old domestic, seemed now the only kind feeling of
which she formed the object; and she could not but reflect how little
these were to be compared with the devoted attachment of a high-souled
youth, whom the least glance of her eye could command, as the
high-mettled steed is governed by the bridle of the rider. It was when
plunged among these desolating reflections, that Mary Avenel felt the
void of mind, arising from the narrow and bigoted ignorance in which
Rome then educated the children of her church. Their whole religion
was a ritual, and their prayers were the formal iteration of unknown
words, which, in the hour of affliction, could yield but little
consolation to those who from habit resorted to them. Unused to the
practice of mental devotion, and of personal approach to the Divine
Presence by prayer, she could not help exclaiming in her distress,
"There is no aid for me on earth, and I know not how to ask it from
Heaven!"

As she spoke thus in an agony of sorrow, she cast her eyes into the
apartment, and saw the mysterious Spirit, which waited upon the
fortunes of her house, standing in the moonlight in the midst of the
room. The same form, as the reader knows, had more than once offered
itself to her sight; and either her native boldness of mind, or some
peculiarity attached to her from her birth, made her now look upon it
without shrinking. But the White Lady of Avenel was now more
distinctly visible, and more closely present, than she had ever before
seemed to be, and Mary was appalled by her presence. She would,
however, have spoken; but there ran a tradition, that though others
who had seen the White Lady had asked questions and received answers,
yet those of the house of Avenel who had ventured to speak to her, had
never long survived the colloquy. The figure, besides, as sitting up
in her bed, Mary Avenel gazed on it intently, seemed by its gestures
to caution her to keep silence, and at the same time to bespeak
attention.

The White Lady then seemed to press one of the planks of the floor
with her foot, while, in her usual low, melancholy, and musical chant,
she repeated the following verses:

"Maiden, whose sorrows wail the Living Dead,
Whose eyes shall commune with the Dead Alive,
Maiden, attend! Beneath my foot lies hid
The Word, the Law, the Path, which thou dost strive
To find and canst not find.--Could spirits shed
Tears for their lot, it were my lot to weep,
Showing the road which I shall never tread,
Though my foot points it.--Sleep, eternal sleep,
Dark, long, and cold forgetfulness my lot!--
But do not thou at human ills repine,
Secure there lies full guerdon in this spot
For all the woes that wait frail Adam's line--
Stoop, then, and make it yours--I may not make it mine!"

The phantom stooped towards the floor as she concluded, as if with the
intention of laying her hand on the board on which she stood. But ere
she had completed that gesture, her form became indistinct, was
presently only like the shade of a fleecy cloud, which passed betwixt
earth and the moon, and was soon altogether invisible.

A strong impression of fear, the first which she had experienced in
her life to any agitating extent, seized upon the mind of Mary Avenel,
and for a minute she felt a disposition to faint. She repelled it,
however, mustered her courage, and addressed herself to saints and
angels, as her church recommended. Broken slumbers at length stole on
her exhausted mind and frame, and she slept until the dawn was about
to rise, when she was awakened by the cry of "Treason! treason!
follow, follow!" which arose in the tower, when it was found that
Piercie Shafton had made his escape.

Apprehensive of some new misfortune, Mary Avenel hastily arranged the
dress which she had not laid aside, and, venturing to quit her
chamber, learned from Tibb, who, with her gray hairs dishevelled like
those of a sibyl, was flying from room to room, that the bloody
Southron villain had made his escape, and that Halbert Glendinning,
poor bairn, would sleep unrevenged and unquiet in his bloody grave. In
the lower apartments, the young men were roaring like thunder, and
venting in oaths and exclamations against the fugitives the rage which
they experienced in finding themselves locked up within the tower, and
debarred from their vindictive pursuit by the wily precautions of
Mysie Happer. The authoritative voice of the Sub-Prior commanding
silence was next heard; upon which Mary Avenel, whose tone of feeling
did not lead her to enter into counsel or society with the rest of the
party, again retired to her solitary chamber.

The rest of the family held counsel in the spence, Edward almost
beside himself with rage, and the Sub-Prior in no small degree
offended at the effrontery of Mysie Happer in attempting such a
scheme, as well as at the mingled boldness and dexterity with which it
had been executed. But neither surprise nor anger availed aught. The
windows, well secured with iron bars for keeping assailants out,
proved now as effectual for detaining the inhabitants within. The
battlements were open, indeed; but without ladder or ropes to act as a
substitute for wings, there was no possibility of descending from
them. They easily succeeded in alarming the inhabitants of the
cottages beyond the precincts of the court; but the men had been
called in to strengthen the guard for the night, and only women and
children remained who could contribute nothing in the emergency,
except their useless exclamations of surprise, and there were no
neighbours for miles around. Dame Elspeth, however, though drowned in
tears, was not so unmindful of external affairs, but that she could
find voice enough to tell the women and children without, to "leave
their skirling, and look after the cows that she couldna get minded,
what wi' the awfu' distraction of her mind, what wi' that fause slut
having locked them up in their ain tower as fast as if they had been
in the Jeddart tolbooth."

Meanwhile, the men finding other modes of exit impossible, unanimously
concluded to force the doors with such tools as the house afforded for
the purpose. These were not very proper for the occasion, and the
strength of the doors was great. The interior one, formed of oak,
occupied them for three mortal hours, and there was little prospect of
the iron door being forced in double the time.

While they were engaged in this ungrateful toil, Mary Avenel had with
much less labour acquired exact knowledge of what the Spirit had
intimated in her mystic rhyme. On examining the spot which the phantom
had indicated by her gestures, it was not difficult to discover that a
board had been loosened, which might be raised at pleasure. On
removing this piece of plank, Mary Avenel was astonished to find the
Black Book, well remembered by her as her mother's favourite study, of
which she immediately took possession, with as much joy as her present
situation rendered her capable of feeling.

Ignorant in a great measure of its contents, Mary Avenel had been
taught from her infancy to hold this volume in sacred veneration. It
is probable that the deceased Lady of Walter Avenel only postponed
initiating her daughter into the mysteries of the Divine Word, until
she should be better able to comprehend both the lessons which it
taught, and the risk at which, in those times, they were studied.
Death interposed, and removed her before the times became favourable
to the reformers, and before her daughter was so far advanced in age
as to be fit to receive religious instruction of this deep import. But
the affectionate mother had made preparations for the earthly work
which she had most at heart. There were slips of paper inserted in the
volume, in which, by an appeal to, and a comparison of, various
passages in holy writ, the errors and human inventions with which the
Church of Rome had defaced the simple edifice of Christianity, as
erected by its divine architect, were pointed out. These controversial
topics were treated with a spirit of calmness and Christian charity,
which might have been an example to the theologians of the period; but
they were clearly, fairly, and plainly argued, and supported by the
necessary proofs and references. Other papers there were which had no
reference whatever to polemics, but were the simple effusions of a
devout mind communing with itself. Among these was one frequently
used, as it seemed from the state of the manuscript, on which the
mother of Mary had transcribed and placed together those affecting
texts to which the heart has recourse, in affliction, and which
assures us at once of the sympathy and protection afforded to the
children of the promise. In Mary Avenel's state of mind, these
attracted her above all the other lessons, which, coming from a hand
so dear, had reached her at a time so critical, and in a manner so
touching. She read the affecting promise, "I will never leave thee
nor forsake thee," and the consoling exhortation, "Call upon me in the
day of trouble, and I will deliver thee." She read them, and her heart
acquiesced in the conclusion. Surely this is the word of God!

There are those to whom a sense of religion has come in storm and
tempest; there are those whom it has summoned amid scenes of revelry
and idle vanity; there are those, too, who have heard its "still small
voice" amid rural leisure and placid contentment. But perhaps the
knowledge which causeth not to err, is most frequently impressed upon
the mind during seasons of affliction; and tears are the softened
showers which cause the seed of Heaven to spring and take root in the
human breast. At least it was thus with Mary Avenel. She was
insensible to the discordant noise which rang below, the clang of bars
and the jarring symphony of the levers which they used to force them,
the measured shouts of the labouring inmates as they combined their
strength for each heave, and gave time with their voices to the
exertion of their arms, and their deeply muttered vows of revenge on
the fugitives who had bequeathed them at their departure a task so
toilsome and difficult. Not all this din, combined in hideous concert,
and expressive of aught but peace, love, and forgiveness, could divert
Mary Avenel from the new course of study on which she had so
singularly entered. "The serenity of Heaven," she said, "is above me;
the sounds which are around are but those of earth and earthly
passion."

Meanwhile the noon was passed, and little impression was made on the
iron grate, when they who laboured at it received a sudden
reinforcement by the unexpected arrival of Christie of the Clinthill.
He came at the head of a small party, consisting of four horsemen, who
bore in their caps the sprig of holly, which was the badge of Avenel.

"What, ho !--my masters," he said, "I bring you a prisoner."

"You had better have brought us liberty," said Dan of the
Howlet-hirst.

Christie looked at the state of affairs with great surprise. "An I
were to be hanged for it," he said, "as I may for as little a matter,
I could not forbear laughing at seeing men peeping through their own
bars like so many rats in a rat-trap, and he with the beard behind,
like the oldest rat in the cellar."

"Hush, thou unmannered knave," said Edward, "it is the Sub-Prior;
and this is neither time, place, nor company, for your ruffian jests."

"What, ho! is my young master malapert?" said Christie; "why, man,
were he my own carnal father, instead of being father to half the
world, I would have my laugh out. And now it is over, I must assist
you, I reckon, for you are setting very greenly about this gear--put
the pinch nearer the staple, man, and hand me an iron crow through the
grate, for that's the fowl to fly away with a wicket on its shoulders.
I have broke into as many grates as you have teeth in your young
head--ay, and broke out of them too, as the captain of the Castle of
Lochmaben knows full well."

Christie did not boast more skill than he really possessed; for,
applying their combined strength, under the direction of that
experienced engineer, bolt and staple gave way before them, and in
less than half an hour, the grate, which had so long repelled their
force, stood open before them.

"And now," said Edward, "to horse, my mates, and pursue the villain
Shafton!"

"Halt, there," said Christie of the Clinthill; "pursue your guest, my
master's friend and my own?--there go two words to that bargain. What
the foul fiend would you pursue him for?"

"Let me pass," said Edward, vehemently, "I will be staid by no
man--the villain has murdered my brother!"

"What says he?" said Christie, turning to the others; "murdered? who
is murdered, and by whom?"

"The Englishman, Sir Piercie Shafton," said Dan of the Howlet-hirst,
"has murdered young Halbert Glendinning yesterday morning, and we
have all risen to the fray."

"It is a bedlam business, I think," said Christie. "First I find you
all locked up in your own tower, and next I am come to prevent you
revenging a murder that was never committed!"

"I tell you," said Edward, "that my brother was slain and buried
yesterday morning by this false Englishman."

"And I tell you," answered Christie, "that I saw him alive and well
last night. I would I knew his trick of getting out of the grave; most
men find it more hard to break through a green sod than a grated
door."

Every body now paused, and looked on Christie in astonishment, until the
Sub-Prior, who had hitherto avoided communication with him, came up and
required earnestly to know, whether he meant really to maintain that
Halbert Glendinning lived.

"Father," he said, with, more respect than he usually showed to any
one save his master, "I confess I may sometimes jest with those of
your coat, but not with you; because, as you may partly recollect, I
owe you a life. It is certain as the sun is in heaven, that Halbert
Glendinning supped at the house of my master the Baron of Avenel last
night, and that he came thither in company with an old man, of whom
more anon."

"And where is he now?"

"The devil only can answer that question," replied Christie, "for the
devil has possessed the whole family, I think. He took fright, the
foolish lad, at something or other which our Baron did in his moody
humour, and so he jumped into the lake and swam ashore like a
wild-duck. Robin of Redcastle spoiled a good gelding in chasing him
this morning."

"And why did he chase the youth?" said the Sub-Prior; "what harm
had he done?"

"None that I know of," said Christie; "but such was the Baron's order,
being in his mood, and all the world having gone mad, as I have said
before."

"Whither away so fast, Edward?" said the monk.

"To Corri-nan-shian, Father," answered the youth.--"Martin and Dan,
take pickaxe and mattock, and follow me if you be men!"

"Right," said the monk, "and fail not to give us instant notice what
you find."

"If you find aught there like Halbert Glendinning," said Christie,
hallooing after Edward, "I will be bound to eat him unsalted.--'T is a
sight to see how that fellow takes the bent!--It is in the time of
action men see what lads are made of. Halbert was aye skipping up and
down like a roo, and his brother used to sit in the chimney nook with
his book and sic-like trash--But the lad was like a loaded hackbut,
which will stand in the corner as quiet as an old crutch until ye draw
the trigger, and then there is nothing but flash and smoke.--But here
comes my prisoner; and, setting other matters aside, I must pray a
word with you, Sir Sub-Prior, respecting him. I came on before to
treat about him, but I was interrupted with this fasherie."

As he spoke, two more of Avenel's troopers rode into the court-yard,
leading betwixt them a horse, on which, with his hands bound to his
side, sate the reformed preacher, Henry Warden.




Chapter the Thirty-First.


At school I knew him--a sharp-witted youth,
Grave, thoughtful, and reserved among his mates,
Turning the hours of sport and food to labour,
Starving his body to inform his mind.
OLD PLAY.

The Sub-Prior, at the Borderer's request, had not failed to
return to the tower, into which he was followed by Christie of
the Clinthill, who, shutting the door of the apartment, drew near,
and began his discourse with great confidence and familiarity.

"My master," he said, "sends me with his commendations to you, Sir
Sub-Prior, above all the community of Saint Mary's, and more specially
than even to the Abbot himself; for though he be termed my lord, and
so forth, all the world knows that you are the tongue of the trump."

"If you have aught to say to me concerning the community," said the
Sub-Prior, "it were well you proceeded in it without farther delay.
Time presses, and the fate of young Glendinnning dwells on my mind."

"I will be caution for him, body for body," said Christie. "I do
protest to you, as sure as I am a living man, so surely is he one."

"Should I not tell his unhappy mother the joyful tidings?" said Father
Eustace,--"and yet better wait till they return from searching the
grave. Well, Sir Jackman, your message to me from your master?"

"My lord and master," said Christie, "hath good reason to believe
that, from the information of certain back friends, whom he will
reward at more leisure, your reverend community hath been led to deem
him ill attached to Holy Church, allied with heretics and those who
favour heresy, and a hungerer after the spoils of your Abbey."

"Be brief, good henchman," said the Sub-Prior, "for the devil is ever
most to be feared when he preacheth."

"Briefly, then--my master desires your friendship; and to excuse
himself from the maligner's calumnies, he sends to your Abbot that
Henry Warden, whose sermons have turned the world upside down, to be
dealt with as Holy Church directs, and as the Abbot's pleasure may
determine."

The Sub-Prior's eyes sparkled at the intelligence; for it had been
accounted a matter of great importance that this man should be
arrested, possessed, as he was known to be, of so much zeal and
popularity, that scarcely the preaching of Knox himself had been more
awakening to the people, and more formidable to the Church of Rome.

In fact, that ancient system, which so well accommodated its doctrines
to the wants and wishes of a barbarous age, had, since the art of
printing, and the gradual diffusion of knowledge, lain floating like
some huge Leviathan, into which ten thousand reforming fishers were
darting their harpoons. The Roman Church of Scotland, in particular,
was at her last gasp, actually blowing blood and water, yet still with
unremitted, though animal exertions, maintaining the conflict with the
assailants, who on every side were plunging their weapons into her
bulky body. In many large towns, the monasteries had been suppressed
by the fury of the populace; in other places, their possessions had
been usurped by the power of the reformed nobles; but still the
hierarchy made a part of the common law of the realm, and might claim
both its property and its privileges wherever it had the means of
asserting them. The community of Saint Mary's of Kennaquhair was
considered as being particularly in this situation. They had retained,
undiminished, their territorial power and influence; and the great
barons in the neighbourhood, partly from their attachment to the party
in the state who still upheld the old system of religion, partly
because each grudged the share of the prey which the others must
necessarily claim, had as yet abstained from despoiling the Halidome.
The Community was also understood to be protected by the powerful
Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, whose zealous attachment to
the Catholic faith caused at a later period the great rebellion of the
tenth of Elizabeth.

Thus happily placed, it was supposed by the friends of the decaying
cause of the Roman Catholic faith, that some determined example of
courage and resolution, exercised where the franchises of the church
were yet entire, and her jurisdiction undisputed, might awe the
progress of the new opinions into activity; and, protected by the laws
which still existed, and by the favour of the sovereign, might be the
means of securing the territory which Rome yet preserved in Scotland,
and perhaps of recovering that which she had lost.

The matter had been considered more than once by the northern
Catholics of Scotland, and they had held communication with those of
the south. Father Eustace, devoted by his public and private vows,
had caught the flame, and had eagerly advised that they should execute
the doom of heresy on the first reformed preacher, or, according to
his sense, on the first heretic of eminence, who should venture within
the precincts of the Halidome. A heart, naturally kind and noble, was,
in this instance, as it has been in many more, deceived by its own
generosity. Father Eustace would have been a bad administrator of the
inquisitorial power of Spain, where that power was omnipotent, and
where judgment was exercised without danger to those who inflicted it.
In such a situation his rigour might have relented in favour of the
criminal, whom it was at his pleasure to crush or to place at freedom.
But in Scotland, during this crisis, the case was entirely different.
The question was, whether one of the spirituality dared, at the hazard
of his own life, to step forward to assert and exercise the rights of
the church. Was there any who would venture to wield the thunder in
her cause, or must it remain like that in the hand of a painted
Jupiter, the object of derision instead of terror? The crisis was
calculated to awake the soul of Eustace; for it comprised the
question, whether he dared, at all hazards to himself, to execute with
stoical severity a measure which, according to the general opinion,
was to be advantageous to the church, and, according to ancient law,
and to his firm belief, was not only justifiable but meritorious.

While such resolutions were agitated amongst the Catholics, chance
placed a victim within their grasp. Henry Warden had, with the
animation proper to the enthusiastic reformers of the age,
transgressed, in the vehemence of his zeal, the bounds of the
discretional liberty allowed to his sect so far, that it was thought
the Queen's personal dignity was concerned in bringing him to justice.
He fled from Edinburgh, with recommendations, however, from Lord James
Stewart, afterwards the celebrated Earl of Murray, to some of the
Border chieftains of inferior rank, who were privately conjured to
procure him safe passage into England. One of the principal persons to
whom such recommendation was addressed, was Julian Avenel; for as yet,
and for a considerable time afterwards, the correspondence and
interest of Lord James lay rather with the subordinate leaders than
with the chiefs of great power, and men of distinguished influence
upon the Border. Julian Avenel had intrigued without scruple with both
parties--yet bad as he was, he certainly would not have practised
aught against the guest whom Lord James had recommended to his
hospitality, had it not been for what he termed the preacher's
officious inter-meddling in his family affairs. But when he had
determined to make Warden rue the lecture he had read him, and the
scene of public scandal which he had caused in his hall, Julian
resolved, with the constitutional shrewdness of his disposition, to
combine his vengeance with his interest. And therefore, instead of
doing violence on the person of Henry Warden within his own castle, he
determined to deliver him up to the Community of Saint Mary's, and at
once make them the instruments of his own revenge, and found a claim
of personal recompense, either in money, or in a grant of Abbey lands
at a low quit-rent, which last began now to be the established form in
which the temporal nobles plundered the spirituality.

The Sub-Prior, therefore, of Saint Mary's, unexpectedly saw the
steadfast, active, and inflexible enemy of the church delivered into
his hand, and felt himself called upon to make good his promises to
the friends of the Catholic faith, by quenching heresy in the blood of
one of its most zealous professors.

To the honour more of Father Eustace's heart than of his consistency,
the communication that Henry Warden was placed within his power,
struck him with more sorrow than triumph; but his next feelings were
those of exultation. "It is sad," he said to himself, "to cause human
suffering; it is awful to cause human blood to be spilled; but the
judge to whom the sword of Saint Paul, as well as the keys of Saint
Peter, are confided, must not flinch from his task. Our weapon returns
into our own bosom, if not wielded with a steady and unrelenting hand
against the irreconcilable enemies of the Holy Church. _Pereat
iste!_ It is the doom he has incurred, and were all the heretics in
Scotland armed and at his back, they should not prevent its being
pronounced, and, if possible, enforced.--Bring the heretic before me,"
he said, issuing his commands aloud, and in a tone of authority.