Ivanhoe by Walter Scott (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕
well, and go to sleep, And I will lap thee with my cope, Softly to lye."
It would seem that the manuscript is here imperfect, for we do not find the reasons which finally induce the curtal Friar to amend the King's cheer. But acknowledging his guest to be such a "good fellow" as has seldom graced his board, the holy man at length produces the best his cell affords. Two candles are placed on a table, white bread and baked pasties are displayed by the light, besides choice of venison, both salt and fresh, from which they select collops. "I might have eaten my bread dry," said the King, "had I not pressed thee on the score of archery, but now have I dined like a prince---if we had but drink enow."
This too is afforded by the hospitable anchorite, who dispatches an assistant to fetch a pot of four gallons from a secret corner near his bed, and the whole three set in to serious drinking. This amusement is superintended by the Friar, according to the recurrence of certain fustian words, to be repeate
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offer to me a deference so unusual?”
“Because to you, Lady of Ivanhoe,” said Rebecca, rising up and
resuming the usual quiet dignity of her manner, “I may lawfully,
and without rebuke, pay the debt of gratitude which I owe to
Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I am---forgive the boldness which has
offered to you the homage of my country---I am the unhappy
Jewess, for whom your husband hazarded his life against such
fearful odds in the tiltyard of Templestowe.”
“Damsel,” said Rowena, “Wilfred of Ivanhoe on that day rendered
back but in slight measure your unceasing charity towards him in
his wounds and misfortunes. Speak, is there aught remains in
which he or I can serve thee?”
“Nothing,” said Rebecca, calmly, “unless you will transmit to
him my grateful farewell.”
“You leave England then?” said Rowena, scarce recovering the
surprise of this extraordinary visit.
“I leave it, lady, ere this moon again changes. My father had a
brother high in favour with Mohammed Boabdil, King of Grenada
---thither we go, secure of peace and protection, for the payment
of such ransom as the Moslem exact from our people.”
“And are you not then as well protected in England?” said Rowena.
“My husband has favour with the King---the King himself is just
and generous.”
“Lady,” said Rebecca, “I doubt it not---but the people of England
are a fierce race, quarrelling ever with their neighbours or
among themselves, and ready to plunge the sword into the bowels
of each other. Such is no safe abode for the children of my
people. Ephraim is an heartless dove---Issachar an over-laboured
drudge, which stoops between two burdens. Not in a land of war
and blood, surrounded by hostile neighbours, and distracted by
internal factions, can Israel hope to rest during her
wanderings.”
“But you, maiden,” said Rowena---“you surely can have nothing to
fear. She who nursed the sick-bed of Ivanhoe,” she continued,
rising with enthusiasm---“she can have nothing to fear in
England, where Saxon and Norman will contend who shall most do
her honour.”
“Thy speech is fair, lady,” said Rebecca, “and thy purpose
fairer; but it may not be---there is a gulf betwixt us. Our
breeding, our faith, alike forbid either to pass over it.
Farewell---yet, ere I go indulge me one request. The bridal-veil
hangs over thy face; deign to raise it, and let me see the
features of which fame speaks so highly.”
“They are scarce worthy of being looked upon,” said Rowena; “but,
expecting the same from my visitant, I remove the veil.”
She took it off accordingly; and, partly from the consciousness
of beauty, partly from bashfulness, she blushed so intensely,
that cheek, brow, neck, and bosom, were suffused with crimson.
Rebecca blushed also, but it was a momentary feeling; and,
mastered by higher emotions, past slowly from her features like
the crimson cloud, which changes colour when the sun sinks
beneath the horizon.
“Lady,” she said, “the countenance you have deigned to show me
will long dwell in my remembrance. There reigns in it
gentleness and goodness; and if a tinge of the world’s pride or
vanities may mix with an expression so lovely, how should we
chide that which is of earth for bearing some colour of its
original? Long, long will I remember your features, and bless
God that I leave my noble deliverer united with---”
She stopped short---her eyes filled with tears. She hastily
wiped them, and answered to the anxious enquiries of Rowena
---“I am well, lady---well. But my heart swells when I think of
Torquilstone and the lists of Templestowe.---Farewell. One, the
most trifling part of my duty, remains undischarged. Accept this
casket---startle not at its contents.”
Rowena opened the small silver-chased casket, and perceived a
carcanet, or neck lace, with ear-jewels, of diamonds, which were
obviously of immense value.
“It is impossible,” she said, tendering back the casket. “I dare
not accept a gift of such consequence.”
“Yet keep it, lady,” returned Rebecca.---“You have power, rank,
command, influence; we have wealth, the source both of our
strength and weakness; the value of these toys, ten times
multiplied, would not influence half so much as your slightest
wish. To you, therefore, the gift is of little value,---and to
me, what I part with is of much less. Let me not think you deem
so wretchedly ill of my nation as your commons believe. Think ye
that I prize these sparkling fragments of stone above my liberty?
or that my father values them in comparison to the honour of his
only child? Accept them, lady---to me they are valueless. I
will never wear jewels more.”
“You are then unhappy!” said Rowena, struck with the manner in
which Rebecca uttered the last words. “O, remain with us---the
counsel of holy men will wean you from your erring law, and I
will be a sister to you.”
“No, lady,” answered Rebecca, the same calm melancholy reigning
in her soft voice and beautiful features---“that---may not be. I
may not change the faith of my fathers like a garment unsuited to
the climate in which I seek to dwell, and unhappy, lady, I will
not be. He, to whom I dedicate my future life, will be my
comforter, if I do His will.”
“Have you then convents, to one of which you mean to retire?”
asked Rowena.
“No, lady,” said the Jewess; “but among our people, since the
time of Abraham downwards, have been women who have devoted their
thoughts to Heaven, and their actions to works of kindness to
men, tending the sick, feeding the hungry, and relieving the
distressed. Among these will Rebecca be numbered. Say this to
thy lord, should he chance to enquire after the fate of her whose
life he saved.”
There was an involuntary tremour on Rebecca’s voice, and a
tenderness of accent, which perhaps betrayed more than she would
willingly have expressed. She hastened to bid Rowena adieu.
“Farewell,” she said. “May He, who made both Jew and Christian,
shower down on you his choicest blessings! The bark that waits
us hence will be under weigh ere we can reach the port.”
She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena surprised as if a
vision had passed before her. The fair Saxon related the
singular conference to her husband, on whose mind it made a deep
impression. He lived long and happily with Rowena, for they were
attached to each other by the bonds of early affection, and they
loved each other the more, from the recollection of the obstacles
which had impeded their union. Yet it would be enquiring too
curiously to ask, whether the recollection of Rebecca’s beauty
and magnanimity did not recur to his mind more frequently than
the fair descendant of Alfred might altogether have approved.
Ivanhoe distinguished himself in the service of Richard, and was
graced with farther marks of the royal favour. He might have
risen still higher, but for the premature death of the heroic
Coeur-de-Lion, before the Castle of Chaluz, near Limoges. With
the life of a generous, but rash and romantic monarch, perished
all the projects which his ambition and his generosity had
formed; to whom may be applied, with a slight alteration, the
lines composed by Johnson for Charles of Sweden---
His fate was destined to a foreign strand,
A petty fortress and an “humble” hand;
He left the name at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a TALE.
NOTE TO CHAPTER I.
Note A.---The Ranger or the Forest, that cuts the foreclaws off
our dogs.
A most sensible grievance of those aggrieved times were the
Forest Laws. These oppressive enactments were the produce of the
Norman Conquest, for the Saxon laws of the chase were mild and
humane; while those of William, enthusiastically attached to the
exercise and its rights, were to the last degree tyrannical. The
formation of the New Forest, bears evidence to his passion for
hunting, where he reduced many a happy village to the condition
of that one commemorated by my friend, Mr William Stewart Rose:
“Amongst the ruins of the church
The midnight raven found a perch,
A melancholy place;
The ruthless Conqueror cast down,
Woe worth the deed, that little town,
To lengthen out his chase.”
The disabling dogs, which might be necessary for keeping flocks
and herds, from running at the deer, was called “lawing”, and was
in general use. The Charter of the Forest designed to lessen
those evils, declares that inquisition, or view, for lawing dogs,
shall be made every third year, and shall be then done by the
view and testimony of lawful men, not otherwise; and they whose
dogs shall be then found unlawed, shall give three shillings for
mercy, and for the future no man’s ox shall be taken for lawing.
Such lawing also shall be done by the assize commonly used, and
which is, that three claws shall be cut off without the ball of
the right foot. See on this subject the Historical Essay on the
Magna Charta of King John, (a most beautiful volume), by Richard
Thomson.
NOTE TO CHAPTER II.
Note B.---Negro Slaves.
The severe accuracy of some critics has objected to the
complexion of the slaves of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as being
totally out of costume and propriety. I remember the same
objection being made to a set of sable functionaries, whom my
friend, Mat Lewis, introduced as the guards and mischief-doing
satellites of the wicked Baron, in his Castle Spectre. Mat
treated the objection with great contempt, and averred in reply,
that he made the slaves black in order to obtain a striking
effect of contrast, and that, could he have derived a similar
advantage from making his heroine blue, blue she should have
been.
I do not pretend to plead the immunities of my order so highly
as this; but neither will I allow that the author of a modern
antique romance is obliged to confine himself to the introduction
of those manners only which can be proved to have absolutely
existed in the times he is depicting, so that he restrain himself
to such as are plausible and natural, and contain no obvious
anachronism. In this point of view, what can be more natural,
than that the Templars, who, we know, copied closely the luxuries
of the Asiatic warriors with whom they fought, should use the
service of the enslaved Africans, whom the fate of war
transferred to new masters? I am sure, if there are no precise
proofs of their having done so, there is nothing, on the other
hand, that can entitle us positively to conclude that they never
did. Besides, there is an instance in romance.
John of Rampayne, an excellent juggler and minstrel, undertook
to effect the escape of one Audulf de Bracy, by presenting
himself in disguise at the court of the king, where he was
confined. For this purpose, “he stained his hair and his whole
body entirely as black as jet, so that nothing was white but his
teeth,” and succeeded in imposing himself on the king, as an
Ethiopian minstrel. He effected, by stratagem, the escape of the
prisoner. Negroes, therefore, must have been known in England in
the dark ages.*
Dissertation on Romance and Minstrelsy, prefixed to Ritson’s Ancient Metrical Romances, p. clxxxvii.NOTE TO CHAPTER XVII.
Note C.---Minstrelsy.
The realm of France, it is well known, was divided betwixt the
Norman and Teutonic race, who spoke the language in which the
word Yes is pronounced as “oui”, and the inhabitants of the
southern regions, whose speech bearing some affinity to the
Italian, pronounced the same word “oc”. The poets of the former
race were called “Minstrels”, and their poems “Lays”: those of
the latter were termed “Troubadours”, and their compositions
called “sirventes”, and other names. Richard, a professed
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