Volume Iii Part 17 (1/2)
This general doctrine of the text explained, I proceed, in what remains of this discourse, to point out to you three important and material considerations concerning the nature and character of woman. These shall be, _1stly_, What she was; _2dly_, What she is; and, _3dly_, What she will be hereafter. And are not these, my brethren, matters of high importance?
_d.i.c.kson's Sermons._
All things of this world wear to an end, saith Isaac; so also did this high Christmas festival within the halls and towers of Roxburgh. The lady Jane had borne a princ.i.p.al share in all the sports, both in and out of doors. In the hall she was led up to every dance, and in the lists she presided as the queen of the games, distributing the prizes with her own fair hands to the Scottish heroes, and, of course, crowning her old friend Charlie with the bays at least once a day. Sir Charles was a most una.s.suming character, and seldom adventured on addressing his superiors first. But when once they addressed discourse to him, he never failed answering them with perfect ease and unconcern; and often, as is well known ere this time, with more volubility than he himself approved of. Once, and only once during all these days of his triumph and high honours, did the lady Jane remember him of having brought her into captivity, and of the high bribe he had refused for her liberty. ”An' if it be your will, honoured lady, I wish ye wadna say ony mair about that matter,” said Sir Charles; ”for mony queer fidgetty kind o' feelings I hae had about it sinsyne. And if I had kend then what I ken now,--if I had kend wha I had in my arms, and what I had in my arms, I had nae borne the honours that I wear the day. My heart had some sair misgiving aince about you, when there were hard news gaun of your great jeopardy; but now that you are in sic high favour, I am e'en glad that I brought you, for troth ye hae a face and a form that does ane good to look at.”
The lady Jane only sighed at this address, and looked down, thinking, without doubt, of the long and dismal _widowhood_ which it would behoove her to keep for the dismal end of her betrothed knight, and then a virgin widowhood too, which was the worst of all. There was an obscure glimpse of the same sort of ideas glanced on Charlie's mind as he viewed her downcast blus.h.i.+ng countenance; and afraid of giving birth to any painful sensations in such a lovely lady's mind, he desisted from further conversation.
The Queen was still so much interested in that lady as to endeavour by all means to procure her liberty without any ransom, somewhat contrary to her son-in-law's opinion. The Queen reasoned, that she was not a lawful prisoner of war; the Douglas that she was, there being no bond of peace subsisting between the nations, and she entering Scotland with forged credentials, at least signed and sealed in favour of another and non-existing person. She applied to the King, who gave his consent, but, at the same time, professed having nothing to do in the matter. At length she teazed Lord Douglas so much that he resolved to indulge her Majesty before the court took leave of him, but to leave it until the very last day. He, however, reckoned before his host; for now that the abbot of Melrose had conjoined him with royalty, he found that he had at the very least two to please instead of one.
Here, we must, with that regard to veracity which so well becomes every narrator of a true tale, divulge a disagreeable secret; that is, we must delineate truly a trait in the character of our heroine, the lady Douglas, (lately the princess Margaret of Scotland,) which we would rather have concealed, had it been possible to have done so. But she could not conceal it any longer herself,--and why should Isaac and I vex ourselves about it; for one day when Mary Kirkmichael waited on her in her chamber, she found her drowned in tears, and with great perplexity, and no less curiosity, set herself to discover the cause.
”What? My dearest and most n.o.ble lady in tears?” exclaimed she. ”Now, a plague on these teazing, battling, boisterous, deluding creatures called men, that will not let poor innocent maids alone to live at heart's ease, but hold them thus in constant ferment, married or unmarried! Well did I ween from experience, that the maiden's troubles were the most insufferable to be borne! The neglects--the disappointed hopes--the fears--and, above all, the jealousies! Oh these jealousies!
What infernal tormentors they are! But now little wot I what to say, or what to think; for beshrew me if I remember the time when I saw my royal mistress in tears before. Let me recollect. No, not since dame Mary Malcolm's palfrey leaped the ravine before the lords of Huntly and Athol, and yours refused. Then, indeed, you wept; and when I laughed you struck me. Yes, you know you struck me, and that had nearly made matters worse.”
”Pray, madam,” said lady Douglas, ”could you conveniently command yourself so far as to bring a surgeon here on the instant?”
”A surgeon! Sanct Marie's grace! what is your ailment, my dearest lady?”
”It is not for myself, it is for you I want him. You are very ill of a quinsey, dame, and bleeding below the tongue is necessary. Go bring my father's leech to me, without delay, and come with him.”
”You have not forgot your sweet maiden frolics for all that is come and all that is done. Well, I am glad you are still in that whimsical humour. I was afraid you were grievously vexed or disappointed at something in your new state.”
”Step forth, I say, and bring me in a surgeon, for I insist on having you bleeded under the tongue. You are very ill indeed, and the disease is infectious.”
”By my maidhood, and by your own, sweet lady, (the Douglas's I mean,) there shall no leech that ever drew lancet open a vein in my blessed and valuable member. No, not were it to humour a queen, or a _lady Jane Howard_.”
”Now, may all the plagues that prey on the heart of woman seize and torment thee if thou hast not guessed the cause of my uneasiness.
There's a latent devil within thee that whispers to thy imagination the thoughts that are pa.s.sing in my heart. O Kirkmichael, I am ill! I have suffered many distresses in my time! many, many distresses!”
”Yes, indeed you have, my royal mistress! many, many distresses!”
”Bring the surgeon, I say. Cannot you, for the life of you, compose yourself for a little s.p.a.ce, when you see me in such distress? Your royal mistress, Mary? I am no royal mistress now! No, I a'nt! Nothing but a plain jog-trot wife of a lord, or earl, or how do you call that beautiful t.i.tle? While the lady Jane Howard!--Oh Kirkmichael, I cannot tell you the half of what I feel!”
”I know it all. Jealousy! my dear lady, jealousy! Think you I know not what it is to suffer that? Do you remember young Spinola, that came to our court from the places abroad? He loved me the best after all; I had certain demonstrative proofs of it. But do you know what I suffered? Racks, tortures, strangulations! Fiends tearing out my eyes, pouring h.e.l.lebore into my ears, and boring through my heart with red hot irons! Not know what jealousy is? Was not I telling your royal self the last minute”--
”Mary! stop, and be advised. You are very ill.”
”I humbly ask forgiveness. I was coming to it. Dear lady, I have noted your trouble these nine days past, and that it was still gaining ground. But I can partly account for it, so that, with a little prudence and patience, it may be removed. Ever since the day on which you was a bride, or the one following perhaps, there has been more court and more flattery paid to the southern beauty than to the northern one. It is the course of nature, madam; you are now a married wife, and your charms must be admired at a distance with respect and awe. The maid must still be courted and flattered. Quite natural, madam, I a.s.sure you. Think you any knight durst caper and bow, and prate to the lady Douglas, as they do to _the English puppet_?”
”Mary, I will give you all my wedding apparel for these two last words. Is not she a mere puppet, without soul or magnanimity?
But--Mary!--How gladly would I change places with her, Mary! She has conquered after all. Yes: She has conquered Margaret Stuart, there is no denying of it to one's own heart.”
”Gramercy, dearest lady, are you not raving? Has not the n.o.ble lord of your adoption proved victorious, and gained you with all honour and approbation?”
”But then the lord of _her_ adoption _died_ for her, Mary. Think of that. The gallant, faithful, and magnanimous Musgrave _died_ for the mistress of his affections. But who died for the poor degraded lady Margaret of Scotland? I am conquered with my own weapons. There is no denying of it! I would rather that one lover had laid down his life for me than have had fifty husbands.”
”Palpably wrong! I'll prove it. Fifty husbands! How delightful--Beg pardon, madam.”
”I tried the Douglas hardly for it. But he was too selfish, and would not die for me. Base, cruel knight! No, he _would not_ die for me; even though I got him to believe that I was put to death, and my ghost haunting him, yet he _would not_ kill himself. What a value those monstrous men set upon their lives! Musgrave died. Lady Jane has conquered, and I am _married_! I wish I were dead, Kirkmichael!”
”'Tis a pity but that you were, madam! If ladies are to live on these terms with the world, they had better be out of it. For you know if the man that one loves best will not condescend always to die when the gratification of his mistress' vanity requires it, why there is an end of all endurance. I managed otherwise with young Spinola.”
”Mention the name of your Spinola again to me for the head that stands on your body, since you deprecate the more gentle prescription of bleeding below the tongue; and now find me some anodyne without delay for the distemper that is preying on my vitals. None of your jeers and your jibes, Kirkmichael, for I am not in humour to bear them. The worst thing of all is yet to come. This puppet,--this painted doll,--this thing of wax! after triumphing over me in my own country and among my own people,--after being died for, while I was only lived for,--after being courted, and flattered, and smiled on, while I was only bowed to and gazed on,--after being carressed by my father, and bedaubed with praises by my newfangled and volatile mother,--after all this, I say, there is she going to be set at liberty, and without all question wedded to one of the royal dukes, one of the princes of the blood! How shall the blood of the Bruce and the spirit of the Stuart brook this? Before I heard of that lady's name, I knew not what jealousy was. Ever since that time has she held me in misery. I thought I had once achieved the greatest conquest that ever was accomplished by heroine. And I _did_ seize a n.o.ble prize! How has it turned out?--in every instance to her honour, and my disparagement.