Chapter the Sixth.
Now let us sit in conclave. That these weeds Be rooted from the vineyard of the church. That these foul tares be severed from the wheat, We are, I trust, agreed.--Yet how to do this, Nor hurt the wholesome crop and tender vine-plants, Craves good advisement.
THE REFORMATION.
The vesper service in the Monastery Church of Saint Mary's was now over.The Abbot had disrobed himself of his magnificent vestures of ceremony,and resumed his ordinary habit, which was a black gown, worn over awhite cassock, with a narrow scapulary; a decent and venerable dress,which was calculated to set off to advantage the portly mien of AbbotBoniface.
In quiet times no one could have filled the state of a mitred Abbot, forsuch was his dignity, more respectably than this worthy prelate. He had,no doubt, many of those habits of self-indulgence which men are apt toacquire who live for themselves alone. He was vain, moreover; and whenboldly confronted, had sometimes shown symptoms of timidity, not veryconsistent with the high claims which he preferred as an eminent memberof the church, or with the punctual deference which he exacted from hisreligious brethren, and all who were placed under his command. Buthe was hospitable, charitable, and by no means of himself disposed toproceed with severity against any one. In short, he would in other timeshave slumbered out his term of preferment with as much credit asany other "purple Abbot," who lived easily, but at the same timedecorously--slept soundly, and did not disquiet himself with dreams.
But the wide alarm spread through the whole Church of Rome by theprogress of the reformed doctrines, sorely disturbed the repose of AbbotBoniface, and opened to him a wide field of duties and cares which hehad never so much as dreamed of. There were opinions to be combatedand refuted--practices to be inquired into--heretics to be detectedand punished--the fallen off to be reclaimed--the wavering to beconfirmed--scandal to be removed from the clergy, and the vigour ofdiscipline to be re-established. Post upon post arrived at the Monasteryof Saint Mary's--horses reeking, and riders exhausted--this from thePrivy Council, that from the Primate of Scotland, and this other againfrom the Queen Mother, exhorting, approving, condemning, requestingadvice upon this subject, and requiring information upon that.
These missives Abbot Boniface received with an important air ofhelplessness, or a helpless air of importance,--whichever the readermay please to term it, evincing at once gratified vanity, and profoundtrouble of mind. The sharp-witted Primate of Saint Andrews had foreseenthe deficiencies of the Abbot of St. Mary's, and endeavoured to providefor them by getting admitted into his Monastery as Sub-Prior a brotherCistercian, a man of parts and knowledge, devoted to the service ofthe Catholic Church, and very capable not only to advise the Abbot onoccasions of difficulty, but to make him sensible of his duty in case heshould, from good-nature or timidity, be disposed to shrink from it.
Father Eustace played the same part in the Monastery as the old generalwho, in foreign armies, is placed at the elbow of the Prince of theBlood, who nominally commands in chief, on condition of attemptingnothing without the advice of his dry-nurse; and he shared the fate ofall such dry-nurses, being heartily disliked as well as feared by hisprincipal. Still, however, the Primate's intention was fully answered.Father Eustace became the constant theme and often the bugbear of theworthy Abbot, who hardly dared to turn himself in his bed without,considering what Father Eustace would think of it. In every case ofdifficulty, Father Eustace was summoned, and his opinion asked; and nosooner was the embarrassment removed, than the Abbot's next thought washow to get rid of his adviser. In every letter which he wrote to thosein power, he recommended Father Eustace to some high church preferment,a bishopric or an abbey; and as they dropped one after another, and wereotherwise conferred, he began to think, as he confessed to the Sacristanin the bitterness of his spirit, that the Monastery of St. Mary's hadgot a life-rent lease of their Sub-Prior.
Yet more indignant he would have been, had he suspected that FatherEustace's ambition was fixed upon his own mitre, which, from someattacks of an apoplectic nature, deemed by the Abbot's friends to bemore serious than by himself, it was supposed might be shortly vacant.But the confidence which, like other dignitaries, he reposed in hisown health, prevented Abbot Boniface from imagining that it held anyconcatenation, with the motions of Father Eustace.
The necessity under which he found himself of consulting with hisgrand adviser, in cases of real difficulty, rendered the worthy Abbotparticularly desirous of doing without him in all ordinary cases ofadministration, though not without considering what Father Eustace wouldhave said of the matter. He scorned, therefore, to give a hint to theSub-Prior of the bold stroke by which he had dispatched Brother Philipto Glendearg; but when the vespers came without his reappearance hebecame a little uneasy, the more as other matters weighed upon hismind. The feud with the warder or keeper of the bridge threatened to beattended with bad consequences, as the man's quarrel was taken up bythe martial baron under whom he served; and pressing letters of anunpleasant tendency had just arrived from the Primate. Like a goutyman, who catches hold of his crutch while he curses the infirmity thatinduces him to use if, the Abbot, however reluctant, found himselfobliged to require Eustace's presence, after the service was over, inhis house, or rather palace, which was attached to, and made part of,the Monastery.
Abbot Boniface was seated in his high-backed chair, the grotesque carvedback of which terminated in a mitre, before a fire where two or threelarge logs were reduced to one red glowing mass of charcoal. At hiselbow, on an oaken stand, stood the remains of a roasted capon, on whichhis reverence had made his evening meal, flanked by a goodly stoup ofBordeaux of excellent flavour. He was gazing indolently on the fire,partly engaged in meditation on his past and present fortunes, partlyoccupied by endeavouring to trace towers and steeples in the red embers.
"Yes," thought the Abbot to himself, "in that red perspective I couldfancy to myself the peaceful towers of Dundrennan, where I passed mylife ere I was called to pomp and to trouble. A quiet brotherhood wewere, regular in our domestic duties; and when the frailties of humanityprevailed over us, we confessed, and were absolved by each other, andthe most formidable part of the penance was the jest of the convent onthe culprit. I can almost fancy that I see the cloister garden, andthe pear-trees which I grafted with my own hands. And for what have Ichanged all this, but to be overwhelmed with business which concerns menot, to be called My Lord Abbot, and to be tutored by Father Eustace? Iwould these towers were the Abbey of Aberbrothwick, and Father Eustacethe Abbot,--or I would he were in the fire on any terms, so I were ridof him! The Primate says our Holy Father, the Pope hath an adviser--I amsure he could not live a week with such a one as mine. Then there isno learning what Father Eustace thinks till you confess your owndifficulties--No hint will bring forth his opinion--he is like a miser,who will not unbuckle his purse to bestow a farthing, until the wretchwho needs it has owned his excess of poverty, and wrung out the boonby importunity. And thus I am dishonoured in the eyes of my religiousbrethren, who behold me treated like a child which hath no sense ofits own--I will bear it no longer!--Brother Bennet,"--(a lay brotheranswered to his call)--" tell Father Eustace that I need not hispresence."
"I came to say to your reverence, that the holy father is entering evennow from the cloisters."
"Be it so," said the Abbot, "he is welcome,--remove these things--orrather, place a trencher, the holy father may be a little hungry--yet,no--remove them, for there is no good fellowship in him--Let the stoupof wine remain, however, and place another cup."
The lay brother obeyed these contradictory commands in the way he judgedmost seemly--he removed the carcass of the half-sacked capon, and placedtwo goblets beside the stoup of Bourdeaux. At the same instant enteredFather Eustace.
He was a thin, sharp-faced, slight-made little man, whose keen grey eyesseemed almost to look through the person to whom he addressed himself.His body was emaciated not only with the fasts which he observed withrigid punctuality, but also by the active
and unwearied exercise of hissharp and piercing intellect;--
A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the puny body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
He turned with conventual reverence to the Lord Abbot; and as they stoodtogether, it was scarce possible to see a more complete difference ofform and expression. The good-natured rosy face and laughing eye of theAbbot, which even his present anxiety could not greatly ruffle, was awonderful contrast to the thin pallid cheek and quick penetrating glanceof the monk, in which an eager and keen spirit glanced through eyes towhich it seemed to give supernatural lustre.
The Abbot opened the conversation by motioning to his monk to take astool, and inviting to a cup of wine. The courtesy was declined withrespect, yet not without a remark, that the vesper service was past.
"For the stomach's sake, brother," said the Abbot, colouring alittle--"You know the text."
"It is a dangerous one," answered the monk, "to handle alone, or atlate hours. Out off from human society, the juice of the grape becomes aperilous companion of solitude, and therefore I ever shun it."
Abbot Boniface had poured himself out a goblet which might holdabout half an English pint; but, either struck with the truth of theobservation, or ashamed to act in direct opposition to it, he sufferedit to remain untasted before him, and immediately changed the subject.
"The Primate hath written to us," said he, "to make strict search withinour bounds after the heretical persons denounced in this list, who havewithdrawn themselves from the justice which their opinions deserve. Itis deemed probable that they will attempt to retire to England by ourBorders, and the Primate requireth me to watch with vigilance, and whatnot."
"Assuredly," said the monk, "the magistrate should not bear the sword invain--those be they that turn the world upside down--and doubtless yourreverend wisdom will with due diligence second the exertions of theRight Reverend Father in God, being in the peremptory defence of theHoly Church."
"Ay, but how is this to be done?" answered the Abbot; "Saint Mary aidus! The Primate writes to me as if I were a temporal baron--a man undercommand, having soldiers under him! He says, send forth--scour thecountry--guard the passes--Truly these men do not travel as those whowould give their lives for nothing--the last who went south passed thedry-march at the Riding-burn with an escort of thirty spears, as ourreverend brother the Abbot of Kelso did write unto us. How are cowls andscapularies to stop the way?"
"Your bailiff is accounted a good man at arms, holy father," saidEustace; "your vassals are obliged to rise for the defence of the HolyKirk--it is the tenure on which they hold their lands--if they will notcome forth for the Church which gives them bread, let their possessionsbe given to others."
"We shall not be wanting," said the Abbot, collecting himself withimportance, "to do whatever may advantage Holy Kirk--thyself shallhear the charge to our Bailiff and our officials--but here again isour controversy with the warden of the bridge and the Baron ofMeigallot--Saint Mary! vexations do so multiply upon the House, and uponthe generation, that a man wots not where to turn to! Thou didst say,Father Eustace, thou wouldst look into our evidents touching this freepassage for the pilgrims?"
"I have looked into the Chartulary of the House, holy father," saidEustace, "and therein I find a written and formal grant of allduties and customs payable at the drawbridge of Brigton, not only byecclesiastics of this foundation, but by every pilgrim truly designed toaccomplish his vows at this House, to the Abbot Allford, and the monksof the House of Saint Mary in Kennaquhair, from that time and for ever.The deed is dated on Saint Bridget's Even, in the year of Redemption,1137, and bears the sign and seal of the granter, Charles of Meigallot,great-great-grandfather of this baron, and purports to be granted forthe safety of his own soul, and for the weal of the souls of his fatherand mother, and of all his predecessors and successors, being Barons ofMeigallot."
"But he alleges," said the Abbot, "that the bridge-wards have been inpossession of these dues, and have rendered them available for more thanfifty years--and the baron threatens violence--meanwhile, the journey ofthe pilgrims is interrupted, to the prejudice of their own souls and thediminution of the revenues of Saint Mary. The Sacristan advised us toput on a boat; but the warden, whom thou knowest to be a godless man,has sworn the devil tear him, but that if they put on a boat on thelaird's stream, he will rive her board from board--and then some saywe should compound the claim for a small sum in silver." Here the Abbotpaused a moment for a reply, but receiving none, he added, "But whatthinkest thou, Father Eustace? why art thou silent?"
"Because I am surprised at the question which the Lord Abbot of SaintMary's asks at the youngest of his brethren."
"Youngest in time of your abode with us, Brother Eustace," said theAbbot, "not youngest in years, or I think in experience. Sub-Prior alsoof this convent."
"I am astonished," continued Eustace, "that the Abbot of this venerablehouse should ask of any one whether he can alienate the patrimony ofour holy and divine patroness, or give up to an unconscientious, andperhaps, a heretic baron, the rights conferred on this church by hisdevout progenitor. Popes and councils alike prohibit it--the honour ofthe living, and the weal of departed souls, alike forbid it--it may notbe. To force, if he dare use it, we must surrender; but never by ourconsent should we see the goods of the church plundered, with as littlescruple as he would drive off a herd of English beeves. Rouse yourself,Reverend father, and doubt nothing but that the good cause shallprevail. Whet the spiritual sword, and direct it against the wickedwho would usurp our holy rights. Whet the temporal sword, if it benecessary, and stir up the courage and zeal of your loyal vassals."
The Abbot sighed deeply. "All this," he said, "is soon spoken by him whohath to act it not; but--" He was interrupted by the entrance of Bennetrather hastily. "The mule on which the Sacristan had set out in themorning had returned," he said, "to the convent stable all over wet, andwith the saddle turned round beneath her belly."
"Sancta Maria!" said the Abbot, "our dear brother hath perished by theway!"
"It may not be," said Eustace, hastily--"let the bell be tolled--causethe brethren to get torches--alarm the village--hurry down to theriver--I myself will be the foremost."
The real Abbot stood astonished and agape, when at once he beheld hisoffice filled, and saw all which he ought to have ordered, going forwardat the dictates of the youngest monk in the convent. But ere theorders of Eustace, which nobody dreamed of disputing, were carried intoexecution, the necessity was prevented by the sudden apparition of theSacristan, whose supposed danger excited all the alarm.