THE BOON.
"Now is't a deed of mercy brings thee here,--
Of mercy to a suffering fellow man,
Or is't his rank that summons all thy pity,
And lends thy tongue its load of eloquence?"--_Old Play_.
On leaving King David's Tower, Father St. Bernard passed through the
Spur, by the Castle Port, and descended the Castlehill-street into
the city.
The bells tolled the hour of nine in the Maison Dieu, at the head of
Bell's Wynd, as he passed it, and he saw the lights gleaming in the
chapel of this edifice, which stood on the south side of the
High-street.
The vast height of its buildings cast a dusky shade over this
thoroughfare; and the steep narrow closes which diverged on each side
from it were almost buried in obscurity. In each of the small round
archways, which gave admittance to these deep and ghostly alleys,
when the night advanced an oil lamp was lighted, a remarkable
improvement at this early period, when neither London nor Paris could
boast of such an advance in civilization, for which our citizens were
solely indebted to their good King James V.
Finding that Edinburgh was becoming a place of resort from all parts
of the kingdom, in 1532, the monarch so far influenced the town
Council, that the High-street was well paved with large stones,
quarried among the craigs of Salisbury. Many of the more ancient
tenements were removed, renovated, or made more ornamental; while, as
before stated, the citizens had to hang out lanterns to light the
narrow thoroughfares; but as these were made of horn and were fed
with oil, they shed but a dim and wavering radiance on the enormous
stone bastilles and overhanging Flemish fronts, which are still the
leading features of the old grey city of the Stuarts and Alexanders.
The watching was performed by the burghers. Every man within the
barriers being on guard every fourth night; thus the whole citizens
had to perform military service in rotation, armed as infantry
soldiers of the period, with helmet, corslet and steel gloves,
arquebuse and dagger, or with sword, pole-axe, and partizan. The
citizens of Edinburgh enjoyed the distinction of wearing "quhite
hatts," _i.e._, helmets of burnished steel; and the whole were
arrayed under their baillies four times in the year at a general
weapon-show. But to return.
The prebendary descended the Blackfriars Wynd, at the foot whereof
projected the turret which still indicates the cardinal's dwelling.
Grasped by the teeth of a grotesque stone monster, a lantern hung
above the doorway, and lighted a large stone panel, whereon were
carved and gilded the armorial bearings of Bethune of Balfour,
overshadowed by the cardinal's tasselled hat. Here the poor priest
paused for a moment, and muttered a fervent prayer for the success of
his merciful errand, and then he tirled the pin, timidly at first,
but boldly afterwards.
After a brief reconnaissance being made of his person through the
vizzying hole, the door was opened by one of the cardinal's guards,
who wore the arms of the archbishopric on the breast of his purple
doublet.
"Is his eminence at home?"
"Yea, father," replied the pikeman, falling back a pace, with a
profound salute.
"Please to announce that Father St. Bernard of St. Giles's craves the
honour of speaking with him alone."
"Deliver this message to my young Lord Lindesay," said the pikeman to
another of the guard, who had overheard the request; and in less than
a minute that young noble, who was the betrothed of Beaton's
daughter, and who acted as his page and equerry, appeared, bonnet in
hand.
"His eminence desires me to say, that Father St. Bernard is welcome
at all times," said he.
Ascending the narrow stone stair of this antique mansion, and
preceded by young Lindesay, whose crimson velvet mantle and
peach-coloured doublet were covered with glittering embroidery, the
prebend, on passing through an opening in a gorgeous arras, found
himself in presence of the primate of all Scotland, the legate of
Paul III.
Brilliantly lighted by candles of perfumed wax, which burned in
rose-coloured globes of Venetian glass, the chamber, in which we had
the honour of introducing the reader to the foe of Henry VIII., and
the terror of the Calvinists, to the eye of the poor priest, formed a
striking contrast to his own humble dormitory at St. Giles's; but he
was not a man to permit such thoughts to dwell an instant in his
mind; and dismissing them at once, he knelt before the cardinal's
chair, to kiss the white hand which that great and luxurious prince
of the church extended graciously towards him.
He was seated in a large and easy chair of stuffed velvet; his feet
were encased in slippers of morocco, red as his stockings, and rested
on a gilded footstool. Two vases of Italian glass, exquisitely
carved, and glittering with the golden-coloured and purple wine they
contained, together with two silver baskets, one full of honied
biscuits and the other of grapes, showed that his eminence had been
solacing his solitary hour; for a gittern that lay on a chair
announced that his daughter, the Lady Margaret, had just retired, and
the young Lord Lindesay, having no occasion to remain, followed her;
thus the priest found himself alone with the cardinal, before whom
all his confidence vanished; for, despite his conscious rectitude of
heart and goodness of intention, in presence of the second man in
Scotland, the poor prebend became timid as a child.
"Welcome, Father St. Bernard!" said the cardinal, pointing to a seat
near his own: "you look pale and fatigued. Here are red and white
Italian wines, and these are better than our ordinary Rochelle or
Bordeaux. To which shall I have the pleasure of assisting you? and
then we will to business after; for I am certain thou hast come to me
on business; no one," continued the studious cardinal, closing a book
he had been reading, "no one, save my Lord Lindesay, comes near David
Beaton for mere friendship, I find. Red wine or white?"
"Either, please your eminence--the flask that is next you."
Reassured by the frank manner of the cardinal, and by the luscious
_Greco_ that moistened his tongue, which had been parched and dry,
St. Bernard was about to speak, when the cardinal again addressed him.
"Dost thou come with new tidings of this Calvinistic heresy, which
spreadeth, even as foul leprosy, over Scotland; or," he added,
re-opening his volume, which was _The Franciscan_, of George
Buchanan, "or comest thou merely here, as this arch-heretic sayeth,
to exhibit--
'The greasy shaven heart,
A gloomy friar, with flowing gown outspread!
The twisted girdle, and the hat's broad brim,
The opened shoe dressed out in monkish trim;
Below the garb, where we so oft will find
A brutal tyrant, whom no law can bind;
The robber, who oppression's armour wields,
The sensual glutton, to excess who yields,
To deck the husband's brow, the night will spend;
The faithless lover, and deceitful friend!
His modest face, though false, worn as a cloak,
To gull the plebeian, and delude the flock;
Ten hundred thousand crimes, wild, dark, and deep.
He hides beneath the clothing of the sheep!'
Holy mother of God!" exclaimed the cardinal (who had read this
passage ironically and emphatically), as he flung the volume to the
farthest end of the apartment, "and thou permittest this wretch to
encumber the earth! Holy St. Francis of Assisium! thou whose life
was a miracle of humility; who, in a glorious vision, beheld our
Saviour hanging on his cross; and thou hast permitted the heretic
dog, who writes thus of thy clergy, again to escape me!"
"I heard that he had broken forth from your eminence's archiepiscopal
castle of St. Andrew's some months ago."
"True,--while my guards (the drunken rascals!) slept; but I should
have made them answer for him body for body. Truly, the college of
St. Barbe hath reason to be proud of its professor, this learned
Buchanan, for there he is at present teaching grammar and the
humanities; and now I hear that the Earl of Cassilis (whom I know to
be an arch-heretic, traitor, and corresponder with Henry of England)
is about to secure him from me in his castle of Culzean, as a tutor
for his son, the Lord Gilbert Kennedy. By the cross, he is a rare
tutor! But let this lord beware; for though he is brother of Quentin
Kennedy, that good abbot of Crossraguell, whose pieties are those of
a saint, the people of Scotland shall see whether a cardinal's hat or
an earl's coronet will weigh the heavier in the scales of justice and
of Heaven."
The cardinal was both exasperated and satirical. Father St. Bernard
found that he had chosen an unfortunate time to prefer his request,
and while he was rallying all his thoughts to introduce a more
pleasing topic of conversation than that broached by the cardinal,
the latter said, suddenly, but in a milder tone:
"And now, my good old friend, St. Bernard, what dost thou wish me to
do for thee?"
"May it please your eminence to grant me your patience and pardon."
The cardinal put one leg over the other, laid his hand upon the
wine-cup, and nodded, as much as to say--"Good: I see the reverend
father has some request to make of me."
"My Lord Cardinal, dost thou remember the 30th of August, 1534?"
"The 30th of August, 1534!" repeated the cardinal, pondering.
"That 30th of August, when I implored your eminence not to pass
through Fife to St. Andrew's."
"I do," said the cardinal, becoming suddenly animated, "for there
were certain mysterious circumstances--but what of that now? 'tis
three years ago."
"My lord, I know not whether that which I am about to reveal be a
sin, or whether, by so doing, I am breaking the irrevocable seal of
confession; the man who told what I am about to relate, made
afterwards a public confession, when he was expiring in the streets
of Kinghorn, but of all the crowd around him, I alone understood to
what he referred--unhappy being!"
"Go on," said the cardinal, sipping his wine, "I am already all ears
and impatience."
"On the evening of the 26th of August, just the day before Straitoun
and Gourlay were burned for heresy at Greenside, I was seated in the
public confessional at St. Giles's, when a man entered in great agony
of mind, and knelt down before me. This man, my lord, was one whom
the secret orations of the Reformers and the mal-influence of his
chief, for he was a follower of old Sir John Melville of Raith, had
partly led astray from the fold of the true faith. He was James
Melville, the gudeman of Pitargie. The blessed hand of God was in
it! Like a dark cloud, remorse had descended upon this lost one, and
he informed me, that with sixteen others he had sworn to slay your
eminence as you passed along the road to St. Andrew's on the morrow;
and that this ambuscade of assassins was to be in waiting near the
tower of Seafield, to the eastward of Kinghorn. In vain did I
command him not to criminate others; but he told me, that your
deadliest enemies, John Leslie of Parkhill, Peter Carmichael of
Kilmadie, Sir James Kirkaldy of the Grange, the Melvilles of Raith
and of Carnbee, the Lord Rothes, and the Laird of Kinfawns would be
there. That Henry of England was in the plot, and had offered them
magnificent bribes; and that one of his ships lay cruizing at the
East Neuk, to secure for these seventeen conspirators a safe retreat
to his own dominions, whither they were to bring your eminence's
scarlet cope, drenched in blood, as a token that the deed was done,
that their lust of vengeance had been sated, and that thou, like
another Becket, had fallen beneath their swords.
"As the conscience-stricken assassin proceeded, I became frozen with
horror. With groans and with tears he concluded his dark narrative,
and beating his breast, implored me to make what use of his
confession I pleased, but at all risks to save your eminence. To
warn you was impossible, for the confessional sealed my lips! And I
saw you--you, the greatest hope of our sinking church, and the chief
pillar of the Scottish throne, its bulwark against English
aggression, and Henry's grasping and heretical spirit, about to fall!
Your eminence was to be shot by arquebuses, after leaving the
ferryboat at Kinghorn. After long and deep thought, the penitent
begged that I would use all my little influence to detain your
eminence for two hours upon your journey, and you may, perhaps,
remember----"
"Thy coming to me on the second day after the _auto-da-fé_ at
Greenside, and imploring me to delay by two hours my journey into
Fife," said the cardinal, as he arose and took in his the hands of
the priest. "Thou good and venerable man! I remember well thy
diffidence, confusion, and timidity; thy fear of being ridiculed and
thy dread of offending me; and how I railed and stormed at thy
superstitious presentiment, as I now remember with regret I named it!
Well?"
"At twelve o'clock, on the 30th of August, the knights and gentlemen
I have named, with others, to the number of sixteen persons, all
fleetly mounted and well armed with arquebuses and wheel-lock
calivers, posted themselves among the copsewood that overhang certain
thick hedge-rows, which lies between Kinghorn and Sir Henry
Moultray's tower at Seafield. The king of England's ship, with all
her sails set, was verging near the shore, while a Scottish flag, to
mask her nation and purpose, was displayed from her mainmast head.
The conspirators loaded their firearms with poisoned balls, and
carefully blew their matches as the bells of St. Leonard's tower
tolled twelve. It was the time at which these assassins, who were
posted eight on each side of the way, expected your eminence.
"The twelfth stroke of the hour was scarcely given, when they
perceived a man, attired exactly like your eminence, in a baretta,
cope, and stockings of scarlet, come riding up the narrow horseway,
between the dark green hedgerows----"
"What is it thou tellest me? My wraith!"
The priest smiled.
"The seeming cardinal came on, riding fast, as if in advance of his
followers! when, lo! sixteen arquebuses and calivers flashed from the
screens of thick hawthorn and dark green holly, and prone to the
earth fell horse and man, wallowing in their blood."
"_Agnus Dei!_"
"With a shout, the assassins rushed forward to imbrue their hands yet
further in blood, and found that they had slain--not David Beaton the
cardinal, but one of themselves--Raith's own kinsman, James Melville,
the gudeman of Pitargie! He was carried to Kinghorn, and there, as I
have said, he died. Without informing me of his project, further
than to delay you, he had thus been guilty of self-immolation, as
having no other method of punishing his own crime and saving your
eminence. And so you were saved. I delayed you at the pier of Leith
for two hours, and at the very moment you embarked, the mock cardinal
was shot on the shore of Fife. On returning, your eminence was
pleased to remember kindly my warning and presentiment, as you still
named it: then, my lord, you promised me, that if ever I wished a
boon that was in your power, I should consider it as already granted."
"True--true, my good friend, my reverend brother, I remember it all."
"You spoke of many a deanery, and many a rectory that were vacant in
Angus, Mearn, and Buchan; but I still find myself the poor prebend in
the parish kirk of St. Giles----"
"Yes, yes--I feel that I have been ungrateful, and thou justly
upbraidest me," said the cardinal, hastily opening a portfolio,
"there is the Benedictine Priory of St. Mary, at Fyvie, the superior
of which----"
"Nay, Lord Cardinal, nay! Our Lady forbid I should ever presume to
upbraid thee. I am but too glad that among the maze of more
important matters my service has been forgotten! and thus that I can
still appear as a creditor, and request the fulfilment of your
promise."
"Full of shame for having so long forgotten it, I swear to grant
whatever you ask, that may lie in my power to bestow."
"Oh, my Lord Cardinal, I seek nothing for myself," said the poor
priest, glancing (like Sterne's Franciscan) at the sleeve of his
threadbare garment; "my wants are few, though my years are many, and
I have neither desire nor ambition, but in the service of our Master
who is in Heaven."
The old man paused, and the great prince of the church, surrounded by
wealth and luxury, grasping all but regal power, and loaded by the
rank and riches of his Scottish, his French, and Italian titles, felt
how great was the gulf between himself and this humble but purer
follower of the apostles.
"If in my power," said he, "thy boon is granted."
"I seek the pardon of my poor penitent," replied St. Bernard,
clasping his hands: "I seek the pardon of Lady Jane Seton."
The cardinal started.
"Impossible!" he replied, "for the life of this woman is not in my
hands."
"But it is in the hands of the king; and being so, is, I may say,
also in thine, my lord. Thou alone canst save her, for, selfish in
his grief, our good king has abandoned everything to his ministers."
"Forgiveness for her--a Seton--the daughter of a Douglas, and the
grandchild of old Greysteel! Friar, thou ravest! the thing is not to
be thought of; besides, from all my lord advocate has told me, she
must have been deeply guilty."
"Oh, good my lord cardinal, dost thou, in the greatness of thy mind,
conceive that such a crime as sorcery may be?"
"I do not--I believe too implicitly in the power of God to yield so
much to that of his fallen angel; and I believe, that as Calvinism
spreads in Scotland, so will this new terror of sorcery. I have not
studied the trial, but shall do so to-night, and with care."
"A thousand grateful thanks."
"Immersed as I am among the affairs of this troublesome state (for
its chancellorship costs me dear), and sworn as I am to extinguish by
fire and sword the heresies of Calvin, which are spreading like a
wildfire among our Scottish towns and glens, I can afford but little
time for the consideration of minor matters, such as this trial.
Thou art, indeed, an auld farrand buckie," added the cardinal, with a
smile; "and well hast thou played thy cards; so rest assured, that if
David Beaton can save thy penitent, with justice--_she is saved_."
Father St. Bernard's heart was too full to reply: he raised his mild
eyes to the ceiling, and crossed his wrinkled hands upon his breast.
"On Sunday first, I am to say a solemn mass for Queen Magdalene in my
cathedral church at St. Andrew's," resumed the cardinal. "Sorely I
regret that poor girl's death; but dost thou know that the Scottish
church had much to fear from her; for, reared and educated as she had
been by her almost heretic aunt, the Queen of Navarre, she was
inclined to view too leniently this clamour raised by the heretics
for liberty of conscience, as they are pleased to term their
abominable creed--a creed by which they make our blessed Gospels like
the bagpipe, on which every man may play a tune of his own devising.
On my way to St. Andrew's, I will visit the king at Falkland, and
this time, rest assured, my reverend friend, my promise shall not be
forgotten."
"Oh, my lord!" murmured the now happy old man; "your eminence
overwhelms me."
"There is now little time to lose. Young Balquhan and twenty
arquebusiers of the king's guard must accompany me, in addition to
the pikemen of my own; and the moment the pardon or order of release
(if I deem her worthy of it, and receive it) is expede, Leslie shall
return with it on the spur to Sir James of Cranstoun-Riddel;" and, as
a sign that the interview was over, the cardinal, with an air of
elegance and grace, which he possessed above all the courtiers of his
time, gave the priest his jewelled hand to kiss, and thankfully and
reverently this good old man, who was enough to be his father,
kneeled down and kissed it.
"A thousand blessings on your eminence! _Dominus vobiscum_," said
the priest.
"_Dominus vobiscum, et cum spiritu tuo_," said the cardinal, and
stretched out his hand to a silver bell, which he rang.
Hurrying out from an inner chamber, Lord Lindesay drew back the arras
which covered the doorway.
Then, as the priest with a joyous heart was about to retire, he was
appalled by the spectral figure of Redhall (who had the private
entrée of the cardinal's apartments at all hours), standing close
behind the thick, heavy tapestry.
He started hurriedly forward, and the friar saw but too well that he
had not only been listening, but had overheard, perhaps, the whole of
their conversation.
His aspect was fearful; remorse, terror, and despair had wrought
their worst upon him. His jaws had become haggard and his visage
pallid; but the priest thought that he read a gleam of hatred and
rage in his eyes as he passed him.
"If he has been listening, and should undo all I have done!" thought
St. Bernard, breathlessly, as he hurried down into the dark Wynd of
the Blackfriars; "but his eminence has promised, and blessed be him,
my poor little child is saved!"
Full of joy, and feeling as if a mountain had been removed from him,
the good old prebend knelt down in the dark and deserted street, and
baring his bald head, returned thanks to Heaven and his patron saint
for having inclined the lord chancellor to hear favourably the prayer
he had just preferred.