When his Majesty8 destroyed Prince Arthur, the Lady Rowena, who was one of the ladies of honor to the Queen, gave up her place at court at once, and retired9 to her castle of Rotherwood. Expressions made use of by her, and derogatory to the character of the sovereign, were carried to the monarch’s ears, by some of those parasites10, doubtless, by whom it is the curse of kings to be attended; and John swore, by St. Peter’s teeth, that he would be revenged upon the haughty11 Saxon lady — a kind of oath which, though he did not trouble himself about all other oaths, he was never known to break. It was not for some years after he had registered this vow12, that he was enabled to keep it.
Had Ivanhoe been present at Ronen, when the King meditated13 his horrid14 designs against his nephew, there is little doubt that Sir Wilfrid would have prevented them, and rescued the boy: for Ivanhoe was, as we need scarcely say, a hero of romance; and it is the custom and duty of all gentlemen of that profession to be present on all occasions of historic interest, to be engaged in all conspiracies15, royal interviews, and remarkable16 occurrences: and hence Sir Wilfrid would certainly have rescued the young Prince, had he been anywhere in the neighborhood of Rouen, where the foul17 tragedy occurred. But he was a couple of hundred leagues off, at Chalus, when the circumstance happened; tied down in his bed as crazy as a Bedlamite, and raving18 ceaselessly in the Hebrew tongue (which he had caught up during a previous illness in which he was tended by a maiden19 of that nation) about a certain Rebecca Ben Isaacs, of whom, being a married man, he never would have thought, had he been in his sound senses. During this delirium20, what were politics to him, or he to politics? King John or King Arthur was entirely21 indifferent to a man who announced to his nurse-tenders, the good hermits22 of Chalus before mentioned, that he was the Marquis of Jericho, and about to marry Rebecca the Queen of Sheba. In a word, he only heard of what had occurred when he reached England, and his senses were restored to him. Whether was he happier, sound of brain and entirely miserable23, (as any man would be who found so admirable a wife as Rowena married again,) or perfectly24 crazy, the husband of the beautiful Rebecca? I don’t know which he liked best.
Howbeit the conduct of King John inspired Sir Wilfrid with so thorough a detestation of that sovereign, that he never could be brought to take service under him; to get himself presented at St. James’s, or in any way to acknowledge, but by stern acquiescence25, the authority of the sanguinary successor of his beloved King Richard. It was Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, I need scarcely say, who got the Barons26 of England to league together and extort28 from the king that famous instrument and palladium of our liberties at present in the British Museum, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury — the Magna Charta. His name does not naturally appear in the list of Barons, because he was only a knight29, and a knight in disguise too: nor does Athelstane’s signature figure on that document. Athelstane, in the first place, could not write; nor did he care a pennypiece about politics, so long as he could drink his wine at home undisturbed, and have his hunting and shooting in quiet.
It was not until the King wanted to interfere30 with the sport of every gentleman in England (as we know by reference to the Historic Page that this odious monarch did), that Athelstane broke out into open rebellion, along with several Yorkshire squires31 and noblemen. It is recorded of the King, that he forbade every man to hunt his own deer; and, in order to secure an obedience32 to his orders, this Herod of a monarch wanted to secure the eldest33 sons of all the nobility and gentry34, as hostages for the good behavior of their parents.
Athelstane was anxious about his game — Rowena was anxious about her son. The former swore that he would hunt his deer in spite of all Norman tyrants35 — the latter asked, should she give up her boy to the ruffian who had murdered his own nephew?13 The speeches of both were brought to the King at York; and, furious, he ordered an instant attack upon Rotherwood, and that the lord and lady of that castle should be brought before him dead or alive.
13 See Hume, Giraldus Cambrensis, The Monk36 of Croyland, and Pinnock’s Catechism.
Ah, where was Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, the unconquerable champion, to defend the castle against the royal party? A few thrusts from his lance would have spitted the leading warriors38 of the King’s host: a few cuts from his sword would have put John’s forces to rout39. But the lance and sword of Ivanhoe were idle on this occasion. “No, be hanged to me!” said the knight, bitterly, “THIS is a quarrel in which I can’t interfere. Common politeness forbids. Let yonder ale-swilling Athelstane defend his — ha, ha — WIFE; and my Lady Rowena guard her — ha, ha, ha — SON.” And he laughed wildly and madly; and the sarcastic40, way in which he choked and gurgled out the words “wife” and “son” would have made you shudder41 to hear.
When he heard, however, that, on the fourth day of the siege, Athelstane had been slain42 by a cannon-ball, (and this time for good, and not to come to life again as he had done before,) and that the widow (if so the innocent bigamist may be called) was conducting the defence of Rotherwood herself with the greatest intrepidity43, showing herself upon the walls with her little son, (who bellowed44 like a bull, and did not like the fighting at all,) pointing the guns and encouraging the garrison45 in every way — better feelings returned to the bosom46 of the Knight of Ivanhoe, and summoning his men, he armed himself quickly and determined47 to go forth to the rescue.
He rode without stopping for two days and two nights in the direction of Rotherwood, with such swiftness and disregard for refreshment48, indeed, that his men dropped one by one upon the road, and he arrived alone at the lodge49-gate of the park. The windows were smashed; the door stove in; the lodge, a neat little Swiss cottage, with a garden where the pinafores of Mrs. Gurth’s children might have been seen hanging on the gooseberry-bushes in more peaceful times, was now a ghastly heap of smoking ruins: cottage, bushes, pinafores, children lay mangled50 together, destroyed by the licentious51 soldiery of an infuriate monarch! Far be it from me to excuse the disobedience of Athelstane and Rowena to their sovereign; but surely, surely this cruelty might have been spared.
Gurth, who was lodge-keeper, was lying dreadfully wounded and expiring at the flaming and violated threshold of his lately picturesque52 home. A catapult and a couple of mangonels had done his business. The faithful fellow, recognizing his master, who had put up his visor and forgotten his wig53 and spectacles in the agitation54 of the moment, exclaimed, “Sir Wilfrid! my dear master — praised be St. Waltheof — there may be yet time — my beloved mistr — master Athelst . . .” He sank back, and never spoke55 again.
Ivanhoe spurred on his horse Bavieca madly up the chestnut56 avenue. The castle was before him; the western tower was in flames; the besiegers were pressing at the southern gate; Athelstane’s banner, the bull rampant57, was still on the northern bartizan. “An Ivanhoe, an Ivanhoe!” he bellowed out, with a shout that overcame all the din37 of battle: “Nostre Dame58 a la rescousse!” And to hurl59 his lance through the midriff of Reginald de Bracy, who was commanding the assault — who fell howling with anguish60 — to wave his battle-axe over his own head, and cut off those of thirteen men-at-arms, was the work of an instant. “An Ivanhoe, an Ivanhoe!” he still shouted, and down went a man as sure as he said “hoe!”
“Ivanhoe! Ivanhoe!” a shrill61 voice cried from the top of the northern bartizan. Ivanhoe knew it.
“Rowena my love, I come!” he roared on his part. “Villains! touch but a hair of her head, and I . . .”
Here, with a sudden plunge62 and a squeal63 of agony, Bavieca sprang forward wildly, and fell as wildly on her back, rolling over and over upon the knight. All was dark before him; his brain reeled; it whizzed; something came crashing down on his forehead. St. Waltheof and all the saints of the Saxon calendar protect the knight! . . .
When he came to himself, Wamba and the lieutenant64 of his lances were leaning over him with a bottle of the hermit’s elixir65. “We arrived here the day after the battle,” said the fool; “marry, I have a knack66 of that.”
“Your worship rode so deucedly quick, there was no keeping up with your worship,” said the lieutenant.
“The day — after — the bat —” groaned67 Ivanhoe. “Where is the Lady Rowena?”
“The castle has been taken and sacked,” the lieutenant said, and pointed68 to what once WAS Rotherwood, but was now only a heap of smoking ruins. Not a tower was left, not a roof, not a floor, not a single human being! Everything was flame and ruin, smash and murther!
Of course Ivanhoe fell back fainting again among the ninety-seven men-at-arms whom he had slain; and it was not until Wamba had applied69 a second, and uncommonly70 strong dose of the elixir that he came to life again. The good knight was, however, from long practice, so accustomed to the severest wounds, that he bore them far more easily than common folk, and thus was enabled to reach York upon a litter, which his men constructed for him, with tolerable ease.
Rumor71 had as usual advanced before him; and he heard at the hotel where he stopped, what had been the issue of the affair at Rotherwood. A minute or two after his horse was stabbed, and Ivanhoe knocked down, the western bartizan was taken by the storming-party which invested it, and every soul slain, except Rowena and her boy; who were tied upon horses and carried away, under a secure guard, to one of the King’s castles — nobody knew whither: and Ivanhoe was recommended by the hotel-keeper (whose house he had used in former times) to reassume his wig and spectacles, and not call himself by his own name any more, lest some of the King’s people should lay hands on him. However, as he had killed everybody round about him, there was but little danger of his discovery; and the Knight of the Spectacles, as he was called, went about York quite unmolested, and at liberty to attend to his own affairs.
We wish to be brief in narrating72 this part of the gallant73 hero’s existence; for his life was one of feeling rather than affection, and the description of mere74 sentiment is considered by many well-informed persons to be tedious. What WERE his sentiments now, it may be asked, under the peculiar75 position in which he found himself? He had done his duty by Rowena, certainly: no man could say otherwise. But as for being in love with her any more, after what had occurred, that was a different question. Well, come what would, he was determined still to continue doing his duty by her; — but as she was whisked away the deuce knew whither, how could he do anything? So he resigned himself to the fact that she was thus whisked away.
He, of course, sent emissaries about the country to endeavor to find out where Rowena was: but these came back without any sort of intelligence; and it was remarked, that he still remained in a perfect state of resignation. He remained in this condition for a year, or more; and it was said that he was becoming more cheerful, and he certainly was growing rather fat. The Knight of the Spectacles was voted an agreeable man in a grave way; and gave some very elegant, though quiet, parties, and was received in the best society of York.
It was just at assize-time, the lawyers and barristers had arrived, and the town was unusually gay; when, one morning, the attorney, whom we have mentioned as Sir Wilfrid’s man of business, and a most respectable man, called upon his gallant client at his lodgings76, and said he had a communication of importance to make. Having to communicate with a client of rank, who was condemned77 to be hanged for forgery78, Sir Roger de Backbite79, the attorney said, he had been to visit that party in the condemned cell; and on the way through the yard, and through the bars of another cell, had seen and recognized an old acquaintance of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe — and the lawyer held him out, with a particular look, a note, written on a piece of whity-brown paper.
What were Ivanhoe’s sensations when he recognized the handwriting of Rowena! — he tremblingly dashed open the billet, and read as follows:—
“MY DEAREST IVANHOE — For I am thine now as erst, and my first love was ever — ever dear to me. Have I been near thee dying for a whole year, and didst thou make no effort to rescue thy Rowena? Have ye given to others — I mention not their name nor their odious creed80 — the heart that ought to be mine? I send thee my forgiveness from my dying pallet of straw. — I forgive thee the insults I have received, the cold and hunger I have endured, the failing health of my boy, the bitterness of my prison, thy infatuation about that Jewess, which made our married life miserable, and which caused thee, I am sure, to go abroad to look after her. I forgive thee all my wrongs, and fain would bid thee farewell. Mr. Smith hath gained over my gaoler — he will tell thee how I may see thee. Come and console my last hour by promising81 that thou wilt82 care for my boy — HIS boy who fell like a hero (when thou wert absent) combating by the side of ROWENA.”
The reader may consult his own feelings, and say whether Ivanhoe was likely to be pleased or not by this letter: however, he inquired of Mr. Smith, the solicitor83, what was the plan which that gentleman had devised for the introduction to Lady Rowena, and was informed that he was to get a barrister’s gown and wig, when the gaoler would introduce him into the interior of the prison. These decorations, knowing several gentlemen of the Northern Circuit, Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe easily procured84, and with feelings of no small trepidation85, reached the cell, where, for the space of a year, poor Rowena had been immured86.
If any person have a doubt of the correctness, of the historical exactness of this narrative, I refer him to the “Biographie Universelle” (article Jean sans Terre), which says, “La femme d’un baron27 auquel on vint demander son fils, repondit, ‘Le roi pense-t-il que je confierai mon fils a un homme qui a egorge son neveu de sa propre main?’ Jean fit enlever la mere et l’enfant, et la laissa MOURIR DE FAIM dans les cachots.”
I picture to myself, with a painful sympathy, Rowena undergoing this disagreeable sentence. All her virtues87, her resolution, her chaste88 energy and perseverance89, shine with redoubled lustre90, and, for the first time since the commencement of the history, I feel that I am partially91 reconciled to her. The weary year passes — she grows weaker and more languid, thinner and thinner! At length Ivanhoe, in the disguise of a barrister of the Northern Circuit, is introduced to her cell, and finds his lady in the last stage of exhaustion92, on the straw of her dungeon93, with her little boy in her arms. She has preserved his life at the expense of her own, giving him the whole of the pittance94 which her gaolers allowed her, and perishing herself of inanition.
There is a scene! I feel as if I had made it up, as it were, with this lady, and that we part in peace, in consequence of my providing her with so sublime95 a death-bed. Fancy Ivanhoe’s entrance — their recognition — the faint blush upon her worn features — the pathetic way in which she gives little Cedric in charge to him, and his promises of protection.
“Wilfrid, my early loved,” slowly gasped96 she, removing her gray hair from her furrowed97 temples, and gazing on her boy fondly, as he nestled on Ivanhoe’s knee —“promise me, by St. Waltheof of Templestowe — promise me one boon98!”
“I do,” said Ivanhoe, clasping the boy, and thinking it was to that little innocent the promise was intended to apply.
“By St. Waltheof?”
“By St. Waltheof!”
“Promise me, then,” gasped Rowena, staring wildly at him, “that you never will marry a Jewess?”
“By St. Waltheof,” cried Ivanhoe, “this is too much, Rowena!”— But he felt his hand grasped for a moment, the nerves then relaxed, the pale lips ceased to quiver — she was no more!
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1
rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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exculpation
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| n.使无罪，辩解 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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parasites
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| 寄生物( parasite的名词复数 )； 靠他人为生的人； 诸虫 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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conspiracies
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| n.阴谋，密谋( conspiracy的名词复数 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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hermits
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| （尤指早期基督教的）隐居修道士，隐士，遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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extort
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| v.勒索，敲诈，强要 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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42
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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44
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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45
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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46
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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48
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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49
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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50
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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51
licentious
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| adj.放纵的，淫乱的 | |
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52
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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53
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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54
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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55
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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56
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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57
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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58
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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59
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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60
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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61
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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62
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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narrating
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| v.故事( narrate的现在分词 ) | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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backbite
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| v.背后诽谤 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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82
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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immured
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| v.禁闭，监禁( immure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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pittance
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| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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