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 cum 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 Cock 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.




Chapter the Fifteenth.


  As when in tumults rise the ignoble crowd,
  Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud,
  And stones and brands in rattling furies fly,
  And all the rustic arms which fury can supply--
  Then if some grave and pious man appear,
  They hush their noise, and lend a listening ear.
                                  DRYDEN'S VIRGIL

A dreadful shout of vengeance was raised by the revellers, whose sport
was thus so fearfully interrupted; but for an instant, the want of
weapons amongst the multitude, as well as the inflamed features arid
brandished poniard of Roland Graeme, kept them at bay, while the
Abbot, horror-struck at the violence, implored, with uplifted hands,
pardon for blood-shed committed within the sanctuary. Magdalen Graeme
alone expressed triumph in the blow her descendant had dealt to the
scoffer, mixed, however, with a wild and anxious expression of terror
for her grandson's safety. "Let him perish," she said, "in his
blasphemy--let him die on the holy pavement which he has insulted!"

But the rage of the multitude, the grief of the Abbot, the exultation
of the enthusiastic Magdalen, were all mistimed and unnecessary.
Howleglas, mortally wounded as he was supposed to be, sprung alertly
up from the floor, calling aloud, "A miracle, a miracle, my masters!
as brave a miracle as ever was wrought in the kirk of Kennaquhair. And
I charge you, my masters, as your lawfully chosen Abbot, that you
touch no one without my command--You, wolf and bear, will guard this
pragmatic youth, but without hurting him--And you, reverend brother,
will, with your comrades, withdraw to your cells; for our conference
has ended like all conferences, leaving each of his own mind, as
before; and if we fight, both you, and your brethren, and the Kirk,
will have the worst on't--Wherefore, pack up you pipes and begone."

The hubbub was beginning again to awaken, but still Father Ambrose
hesitated, as uncertain to what path his duty called him, whether to
face out the present storm, or to reserve himself for a better moment.
His brother of Unreason observed his difficulty, and said, in a tone
more natural and less affected than that with which he had hitherto
sustained his character, "We came hither, my good sir, more in mirth
than in mischief--our bark is worse than our bite--and, especially, we
mean you no personal harm--wherefore, draw off while the play is good;
for it is ill whistling for a hawk when she is once on the soar, and
worse to snatch the quarry from the ban-dog--Let these fellows once
begin their brawl, and it will be too much for madness itself, let
alone the Abbot of Unreason, to bring them back to the lure."

The brethren crowded around Father Ambrosius, and joined in urging
him to give place to the torrent. The present revel was, they said, an
ancient custom which his predecessors had permitted, and old Father
Nicholas himself had played the dragon in the days of the Abbot
Ingelram.

"And we now reap the fruit of the seed which they have so unadvisedly
sown," said Ambrosius; "they taught men to make a mock of what is
holy, what wonder that the descendants of scoffers become robbers and
plunderers? But be it as you list, my brethren--move towards the
dortour--And you, dame, I command you, by the authority which I have
over you, and by your respect for that youth's safety, that you go
with us without farther speech--Yet, stay--what are your intentions
towards that youth whom you detain prisoner?--Wot ye," he continued,
addressing Howleglas in a stern tone of voice, "that he bears the
livery of the House of Avenel? They who fear not the anger of Heaven,
may at least dread the wrath of man."

"Cumber not yourself concerning him," answered Howleglas, "we know
right well who and what he is."

"Let me pray," said the Abbot, in a tone of entreaty, "that you do him
no wrong for the rash deed--which he attempted in his imprudent zeal."

"I say, cumber not yourself about it, father," answered Howleglas,
"but move off with your train, male and female, or I will not
undertake to save yonder she-saint from the ducking-stool--And as for
bearing of malice, my stomach has no room for it; it is," he added,
clapping his hand on his portly belly, "too well bumbasted out with
straw and buckram--gramercy to them both--they kept out that madcap's
dagger as well as a Milan corslet could have done."

In fact, the home-driven poniard of Roland Graeme had lighted upon the
stuffing of the fictitious paunch, which the Abbot of Unreason wore as
a part of his characteristic dress, and it was only the force of the
blow which had prostrated that reverend person on the ground for a
moment.

Satisfied in some degree by this man's assurances, and compelled--to
give way to superior force, the Abbot Ambrosius retired from the
Church at the head of the monks, and left the court free for the
revellers to work their will. But, wild and wilful as these rioters
were, they accompanied the retreat of the religionists with none of
those shouts of contempt and derision with which they had at first
hailed them. The Abbot's discourse had affected some of them with
remorse, others with shame, and all with a transient degree of
respect. They remained silent until the last monk had disappeared
through the side-door which communicated with their dwelling-place,
and even then it cost some exhortations on the part of Howleglas, some
caprioles of the hobby-horse, and some wallops of the dragon, to rouse
once more the rebuked spirit of revelry.

"And how now, my masters?" said the Abbot of Unreason; "and wherefore
look on me with such blank Jack-a-Lent visages? Will you lose your old
pastime for an old wife's tale of saints and purgatory? Why, I thought
you would have made all split long since--Come, strike up, tabor and
harp, strike up, fiddle and rebeck--dance and be merry to-day, and let
care come to-morrow. Bear and wolf, look to your prisoner--prance,
hobby--hiss, dragon, and halloo, boys--we grow older every moment we
stand idle, and life is too short to be spent in playing mumchance."

This pithy exhortation was attended with the effect desired. They
fumigated the Church with burnt wool and feathers instead of incense,
put foul water into the holy-water basins, and celebrated a parody on
the Church-service, the mock Abbot officiating at the altar; they sung
ludicrous and indecent parodies, to the tunes of church hymns; they
violated whatever vestments or vessels belonging to the Abbey they
could lay their hands upon; and, playing every freak which the whim of
the moment could suggest to their wild caprice, at length they fell to
more lasting deeds of demolition, pulled down and destroyed some
carved wood-work, dashed out the painted windows which had escaped
former violence, and in their rigorous search after sculpture
dedicated to idolatry, began to destroy what ornaments yet remained
entire upon the tombs, and around the cornices of the pillars.

The spirit of demolition, like other tastes, increases by indulgence;
from these lighter attempts at mischief, the more tumultuous part of
the meeting began to meditate destruction on a more extended
scale--"Let us heave it down altogether, the old crow's nest," became
a general cry among them; "it has served the Pope and his rooks too
long;" and up they struck a ballad which was then popular among the
lower classes. [Footnote: These rude rhymes are taken, with some
trifling alterations, from a ballad called Trim-go-trix. It occurs in
a singular collection, entitled; "A Compendious Book of Godly and
Spiritual Songs, collected out of sundrie parts of the Scripture, with
sundry of other ballatis changed out of prophane sanges for avoyding
of sin and harlotrie, with Augmentation of sundrie Gude and Godly
Ballates. Edinburgh, printed by Andro Hart." This curious collection
has been reprinted in Mr. John. Grahame Dalyell's Scottish Poems of
the 16th century Edin. 1801, 2 vols.]

  "The Paip, that pagan full of pride,
  Hath blinded us ower lang.
  For where the blind the blind doth lead,
  No marvel baith gae wrang.
  Like prince and king,
  He led the ring
  Of all iniquity.
  Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix,
  Under the greenwood tree.

  "The Bishop rich, he could not preach
  For sporting with the lasses;
  The silly friar behoved to fleech
  For awmous as he passes:
  The curate his creed
  He could not read,--
  Shame fa' company!
  Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix,
  Under the greenwood tree."

Thundering out this chorus of a notable hunting song, which had been
pressed into the service of some polemical poet, the followers of the
Abbot of Unreason were turning every moment more tumultuous, and
getting beyond the management even of that reverend prelate himself,
when a knight in full armour, followed by two or three men-at-arms,
entered the church, and in a stern voice commanded them to forbear
their riotous mummery.

His visor was up, but if it had been lowered, the cognizance of the
holly-branch sufficiently distinguished Sir Halbert Glendinning, who,
on his homeward road, was passing through the village of Kennaquhair;
and moved, perhaps, by anxiety for his brother's safety, had come
directly to the church on hearing of the uproar.

"What is the meaning of this," he said, "my masters? are ye Christian
men, and the king's subjects, and yet waste and destroy church and
chancel like so many heathens?"

All stood silent, though doubtless there were several disappointed and
surprised at receiving chiding instead of thanks from so zealous a
protestant.

The dragon, indeed, did at length take upon him to be spokesman, and
growled from the depth of his painted maw, that they did but sweep
Popery out of the church with the besom of destruction.

"What! my friends," replied Sir Halbert Glendinning, "think you this
mumming and masking has not more of Popery in it than have these stone
walls? Take the leprosy out of your flesh, before you speak of
purifying stone walls--abate your insolent license, which leads but to
idle vanity and sinful excess; and know, that what you now practise,
is one of the profane and unseemly sports introduced by the priests of
Rome themselves, to mislead and to brutify the souls which fell into
their net."

"Marry come up--are you there with your bears?" muttered the dragon,
with a draconic sullenness, which was in good keeping with his
character, "we had as good have been Romans still, if we are to have
no freedom in our pastimes!"

"Dost thou reply to me so?" said Halbert Glendinning; "or is there any
pastime in grovelling on the ground there like a gigantic
kail-worm?--Get out of thy painted case, or, by my knighthood, I will
treat you like the beast and reptile you have made yourself."

"Beast and reptile?" retorted the offended dragon, "setting aside your
knighthood, I hold myself as well a born man as thyself."

The Knight made no answer in words, but bestowed two such blows with
the butt of his lance on the petulant dragon, that had not the hoops
which constituted the ribs of the machine been pretty strong, they
would hardly have saved those of the actor from being broken. In all
haste the masker crept out of his disguise, unwilling to abide a third
buffet from the lance of the enraged Knight. And when the ex-dragon
stood on the floor of the church, he presented to Halbert Glendinning
the well-known countenance of Dan of the Howlet-hirst, an ancient
comrade of his own, ere fate had raised him so high above the rank to
which he was born. The clown looked sulkily upon the Knight, as if to
upbraid him for his violence towards an old acquaintance, and
Glendinning's own good-nature reproached him for the violence he had
acted upon him.

"I did wrong to strike thee," he said, "Dan; but in truth, I knew thee
not--thou wert ever a mad fellow--come to Avenel Castle, and we shall
see how my hawks fly."

"And if we show him not falcons that will mount as merrily as
rockets," said the Abbot of Unreason, "I would your honour laid as
hard on my bones as you did on his even now."

"How now, Sir Knave," said the Knight, "and what has brought you
hither?"

The Abbot, hastily ridding himself of the false nose which mystified
his physiognomy, and the supplementary belly which made up his
disguise, stood before his master in his real character, of Adam
Woodcock, the falconer of Avenel.

"How, varlet!" said the Knight; "hast thou dared to come here and
disturb the very house my brother was dwelling in?"

"And it was even for that reason, craving your honour's pardon, that I
came hither--for I heard the country was to be up to choose an Abbot
of Unreason, and sure, thought I, I that can sing, dance, leap
backwards over a broadsword, and am as good a fool as ever sought
promotion, have all chance of carrying the office; and if I gain my
election, I may stand his honour's brother in some stead, supposing
things fall roughly out at the Kirk of Saint Mary's."

"Thou art but a cogging knave," said Sir Halbert, "and well I wot,
that love of ale and brandy, besides the humour of riot and frolic,
would draw thee a mile, when love of my house would not bring thee a
yard. But, go to--carry thy roisterers elsewhere--to the alehouse if
they list, and there are crowns to pay your charges--make out the
day's madness without doing more mischief, and be wise men
to-morrow--and hereafter learn to serve a good cause better than by
acting like buffoons or ruffians."

Obedient to his master's mandate, the falconer was collecting his
discouraged followers, and whispering into their ears--"Away,
away--_tace_ is Latin for a candle--never mind the good Knight's
puritanism--we will play the frolic out over a stand of double ale in
Dame Martin the Brewster's barn-yard--draw off, harp and
tabor--bagpipe and drum--mum till you are out of the church-yard, then
let the welkin ring again--move on, wolf and bear--keep the hind legs
till you cross the kirk-stile, and then show yourselves beasts of
mettle--what devil sent him here to spoil our holiday!--but anger him
not, my hearts; his lance is no goose-feather, as Dan's ribs can
tell."

"By my soul," said Dan, "had it been another than my ancient comrade,
I would have made my father's old fox [Footnote: _Fox_, An
old-fashioned broadsword was often so called.] fly about his ears!"

"Hush! hush! man," replied Adam Woodcock, "not a word that way, as you
value the safety of your bones--what man? we must take a clink as it
passes, so it is not bestowed in downright ill-will."

"But I will take no such thing," said Dan of the Howlet-hirst,
suddenly resisting the efforts of Woodcock, who was dragging him out
of the church; when the quick military eye of Sir Halbert Glendinning
detecting Roland Graeme betwixt his two guards, the Knight exclaimed,
"So ho! falconer,--Woodcock,--knave, hast thou brought my Lady's page
in mine own livery, to assist at this hopeful revel of thine, with
your wolves and bears? Since you were at such mummings, you might, if
you would, have at least saved the credit of my household, by dressing
him up as a jackanapes--bring him hither, fellows!"

Adam Woodcock was too honest and downright, to permit blame to light
upon the youth, when it was undeserved. "I swear," he said, "by Saint
Martin of Bullions--" [Footnote: The Saint Swithin, or weeping Saint
of Scotland. If his festival (fourth July) prove wet, forty days of
rain are expected.]

"And what hast thou to do with Saint Martin?"

"Nay, little enough, sir, unless when he sends such rainy days that we
cannot fly a hawk--but I say to your worshipful knighthood, that as I
am, a true man----"

"As you are a false varlet, had been the better obtestation."

"Nay, if your knighthood allows me not to speak," said Adam, "I can
hold my tongue--but the boy came not hither by my bidding, for all
that."

"But to gratify his own malapert pleasure, I warrant me," said Sir
Halbert Glendinning--"Come hither, young springald, and tell me
whether you have your mistress's license to be so far absent from the
castle, or to dishonour my livery by mingling in such a May-game?"

"Sir Halbert Glendinning," answered Roland Graeme with steadiness, "I
have obtained the permission, or rather the commands, of your lady, to
dispose of my time hereafter according to my own pleasure. I have been
a most unwilling spectator of this May-game, since it is your pleasure
so to call it; and I only wear your livery until I can obtain clothes
which bear no such badge of servitude."

"How am I to understand this, young man?" said Sir Halbert
Glendinning; "speak plainly, for I am no reader of riddles.--That my
lady favoured thee, I know. What hast thou done to disoblige her, and
occasion thy dismissal?"

"Nothing to speak of," said Adam Woodcock, answering for the boy--"a
foolish quarrel with me, which was more foolishly told over again to
my honoured lady, cost the poor boy his place. For my part, I will say
freely, that I was wrong from beginning to end, except about the
washing of the eyas's meat. There I stand to it that I was right."

With that, the good-natured falconer repeated to his master the whole
history of the squabble which had brought Roland Graeme into disgrace
with his mistress, but in a manner so favourable for the page, that
Sir Halbert could not but suspect his generous motive.

"Thou art a good-natured fellow," he said, "Adam Woodcock."

"As ever had falcon upon fist," said Adam; "and, for that matter, so
is Master Roland; but, being half a gentleman by his office, his blood
is soon up, and so is mine."

"Well," said Sir Halbert, "be it as it will, my lady has acted
hastily, for this was no great matter of offence to discard the lad
whom she had trained up for years; but he, I doubt not, made it worse
by his prating--it jumps well with a purpose, however, which I had in
my mind. Draw off these people, Woodcock,--and you, Roland Graeme,
attend me."

The page followed him in silence into the Abbot's house, where,
stepping into the first apartment which he found open, he commanded
one of his attendants to let his brother, Master Edward Glendinning,
know that he desired to speak with him. The men-at-arms went gladly
off to join their comrade, Adam Woodcock, and the jolly crew whom he
had assembled at Dame Martin's, the hostler's wife, and the Page and
Knight were left alone in the apartment. Sir Halbert Glendinning paced
the floor for a moment in silence and then thus addressed his
attendant--

"Thou mayest have remarked, stripling, that I have but seldom
distinguished thee by much notice;--I see thy colour rises, but do not
speak till thou nearest me out. I say I have never much distinguished
thee, not because I did not see that in thee which I might well have
praised, but because I saw something blameable, which such praises
might have made worse. Thy mistress, dealing according to her pleasure
in her own household, as no one had better reason or title, had picked
thee from the rest, and treated thee more like a relation than a
domestic; and if thou didst show some vanity and petulance under such
distinction, it were injustice not to say that thou hast profited both
in thy exercises and in thy breeding, and hast shown many sparkles of
a gentle and manly spirit. Moreover, it were ungenerous, having bred
thee up freakish and fiery, to dismiss thee to want or wandering, for
showing that very peevishness and impatience of discipline which arose
from thy too delicate nurture. Therefore, and for the credit of my own
household, I am determined to retain thee in my train, until I can
honourably dispose of thee elsewhere, with a fair prospect of thy
going through the world with credit to the house that brought thee
up."

If there was something in Sir Halbert Glendinning's speech which
flattered Roland's pride, there was also much that, according to his
mode of thinking, was an alloy to the compliment. And yet his
conscience instantly told him that he ought to accept, with grateful
deference, the offer which was made him by the husband of his kind
protectress; and his prudence, however slender, could not but admit he
should enter the world under very different auspices as a retainer of
Sir Halbert Glendinning, so famed for wisdom, courage, and influence,
from those under which he might partake the wanderings, and become an
agent in the visionary schemes, for such they appeared to him, of
Magdalen, his relative. Still, a strong reluctance to re-enter a
service from which he had been dismissed with contempt, almost
counterbalanced these considerations.

Sir Halbert looked on the youth with surprise, and resumed--"You seem
to hesitate, young man. Are your own prospects so inviting, that you
should pause ere you accept those which I should offer to you? or,
must I remind you that, although you have offended your benefactress,
even to the point of her dismissing you, yet I am convinced, the
knowledge that you have gone unguided on your own wild way, into a
world so disturbed as ours of Scotland, cannot, in the upshot, but
give her sorrow and pain; from which it is, in gratitude, your duty to
preserve her, no less than it is in common wisdom your duty to accept
my offered protection, for your own sake, where body and soul are
alike endangered, should you refuse it."

Roland Graeme replied in a respectful tone, but at the same time with
some spirit, "I am not ungrateful for such countenance as has been
afforded me by the Lord of Avenel, and I am glad to learn, for the
first time, that I have not had the misfortune to be utterly beneath
his observation, as I had thought--And it is only needful to show me
how I can testify my duty and my gratitude towards my early and
constant benefactress with my life's hazard, and I will gladly peril
it." He stopped.

"These are but words, young man," answered Glendinning, "large
protestations are often used to supply the place of effectual service.
I know nothing in which the peril of your life can serve the Lady of
Avenel; I can only say, she will be pleased to learn you have adopted
some course which may ensure the safety of your person, and the weal
of your soul--What ails you, that you accept not that safety when it
is offered you?"

"My only relative who is alive," answered Roland, "at least the only
relative whom I have ever seen, has rejoined me since I was dismissed
from the Castle of Avenel, and I must consult with her whether I can
adopt the line to which you now call me, or whether her increasing
infirmities, or the authority which she is entitled to exercise over
me, may not require me to abide with her."

"Where is this relation?" said Sir Halbert Glendinning.

"In this house," answered the page.

"Go then, and seek her out," said the Knight of Avenel; "more than
meet it is that thou shouldst have her approbation, yet worse than
foolish would she show herself in denying it."

Roland left the apartment to seek for his grandmother; and, as he
retreated, the Abbot entered.

The two brothers met as brothers who loved each other fondly, yet meet
rarely together. Such indeed was the case. Their mutual affection
attached them to each other; but in every pursuit, habit or sentiment,
connected with the discords of the times, the friend and counsellor of
Murray stood opposed to the Roman Catholic priest; nor, indeed, could
they have held very much society together, without giving cause of
offence and suspicion to their confederates on each side. After a
close embrace on the part of both, and a welcome on that of the Abbot,
Sir Halbert Glendinning expressed his satisfaction that he had come in
time to appease the riot raised by Howleglas and his tumultuous
followers.

"And yet," he said, "when I look on your garments, brother Edward, I
cannot help thinking there still remains an Abbot of Unreason within
the bounds of the Monastery."

"And wherefore carp at my garments, brother Halbert?" said the Abbot;
"it is the spiritual armour of my calling, and, as such, beseems me as
well as breastplate and baldric becomes your own bosom."

"Ay, but there were small wisdom, methinks, in putting on armour where
we have no power to fight; it is but a dangerous temerity to defy the
foe whom we cannot resist."

"For that, my brother, no one can answer," said the Abbot, "until the
battle be fought; and, were it even as you say, methinks a brave man,
though desperate of victory, would rather desire to fight and fall,
than to resign sword and shield on some mean and dishonourable
composition with his insulting antagonist. But, let not you and I make
discord of a theme on which we cannot agree, but rather stay and
partake, though a heretic, of my admission feast. You need not fear,
my brother, that your zeal for restoring the primitive discipline of
the church will, on this occasion, be offended with the rich profusion
of a conventual banquet. The days of our old friend Abbot Boniface are
over; and the Superior of Saint Mary's has neither forests nor
fishings, woods nor pastures, nor corn-fields;--neither flocks nor
herds, bucks nor wild-fowl--granaries of wheat, nor storehouses of oil
and wine, of ale and of mead. The refectioner's office is ended; and
such a meal as a hermit in romance can offer to a wandering knight, is
all we have to set before you. But, if you will share it with us, we
shall eat it with a cheerful heart, and thank you, my brother, for
your timely protection against these rude scoffers."