Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

weary horse of Ivanhoe, and its no less exhausted rider, went down, as all had expected, before the well-aimed lance and 'vigorous steed of the Templar. This issue of the combat all had foreseen; but although the spear of Ivanhoe, in comparison, did but touch the shield of Sir Brian, that champion, to the *astonishment of all who beheld it, reeled in his saddle, lost his stirrup, and fell in the lists!

Ivanhoe, extricating himself from his fallen horse, was soon on foot, hastening to mend his fortune with his sword; but his ⚫antagonist arose not. Wilfred, placing his foot on his breast, and the sword's point to his throat, commanded him to yield him, or die on the spot. The Templar returned no answer.

66

Slay him not, Sir Knight," cried the Grand Master “unshriven and unabsolved-kill not body and soul! We acknowledge him vanquished."

He descended into the lists, and commanded them to unhelm the conquered champion. His eyes were closed-the dark red flush was still on his brow. As they looked on him in astonishment, the eyes opened-but they were fixed and glazed. The flush passed from his brow, and gave way to the pallid hue of death. Unscathed by the lance of his enemy, he had died a victim to the violence of his own contending passions.

[ocr errors]

"This is indeed the judgment of God," said the Grand Master, looking upwards-" Fiat voluntas tua !"4

66

When the first moments of surprise were over, Wilfred of Ivanhoe demanded of the Grand Master, as judge of the field, if he had manfully and rightfully done his duty in the combat? "Manfully and rightfully hath it been done," said the Grand Master; I pronounce the maiden free and guiltless. The arms and the body of the deceased knight are at the will of the victor." "I will not despoil him of his weapons," said the Knight of Ivanhoe, "nor condemn his corpse to shame. God's arm, no human hand, hath this day struck him down. But let his 'obsequies be private, as becomes those of a man who died in an unjust quarrel.—And for the maiden—”

He was interrupted by the clatter of horses' feet, advancing in such numbers, and so rapidly, as to shake the ground before them; and the Black Knight galloped into the lists. He was followed by a numerous band of men-at-arms, and several knights in complete armour.

"I am too late," he said, looking around him. "I had doomed Sir Brian for mine own property.-Ivanhoe, was this well, to take on thee such a 'venture, and thou scarce able to keep thy saddle?"

"Heaven, my liege," answered Ivanhoe, "hath taken this proud man for its victim. He was not to be honoured in dying as your will had 'designed."

"Peace be with him," said Richard,5 looking steadfastly on the corpse, "if it may be so he was a gallant knight, and has died in his steel harness full knightly."

:

During the tumult Rebecca saw and heard nothing she was locked in the arms of her aged father, giddy, and almost senseless, with the rapid change of circumstances around her. But one word from Isaac at length recalled her scattered feelings.

"Let us go," he said, "my dear daughter, my recovered treasure-let us go to throw ourselves at the feet of the good youth." "Not so," said Rebecca; "oh no-no-no;-I must not at this moment dare to speak to him. Alas! I should say more than-No, my father; let us instantly leave this evil place."

Isaac, yielding to her entreaties, then conducted her from the lists, and by means of a horse which he had provided, 'transported her safely to the house of the Rabbi Nathan.

[blocks in formation]

QUESTIONS. -Where was the combat to take place? Where was the Grand Master's position? What was at the opposite end of the lists? What was the general belief? Who at last appeared? Why did the Templar at first decline to fight with him? What fear did Rebecca express? What was the result of the encounter of the knights. What befell the Templar immediately afterwards? What had killed him? What verdict did the Grand Master now give regarding Rebecca? Who presently arrived on the scene? Why was the Black Knight disappointed? Who was this Black Knight? Who had embraced Rebecca? What did he ask her to do? What did she reply?

DAMASCUS AND LONDON.

PART I.

DAMASCUS is one of the greatest and most truly oriental cities in the world; let us, therefore, for our amusement and instruction, compare it in its general external features with London. In this way we may, perhaps, be able to get a clear idea of an oriental city.

From the dome of St. Paul's you behold London lying around, like a wide, waving, endless sea of slates, tiles, houses, churches, spires and monuments of all kinds. The eye is 'relieved with the heights and the hollows, the great and the little, the lowly lanes and the heaven-pointing spires.

A

In Damascus the scene is very different: there is much less variety; no spires, but multitudes of domes upon the mosques, 1 and baths surmounted by little minarets.2 The houses are all flat-roofed, and the hue of the whole is a dim ash colour. stillness like that of the dead reigns over the whole scene; and the city, surrounded with its celebrated evergreen gardens, suggests the idea of a ship sailing away through an ocean of verdure. Dun walls, flat roofs, domes and minarets, the stillness of death and the verdure of paradise, make up the elements of this most charming oriental scene. Tradition tells that Moham'med refused to enter the city, saying, "As there is only one paradise allotted to man, I shall reserve mine for the future world."

London and most large western cities are very often surmounted by clouds of smoke, owing to the coldness of the climate and the great consumption of coal. The sky over Damascus appears as bright and serene as elsewhere. For the greater part of the year the climate renders little or no fire necessary; and the little that is used is not from coal, but from wood or charcoal. The rooms have neither chimneys nor fire-places, and, except for the 'preparation of the supper, fire is rarely required during the course of the day. Hence the oriental city is not 'encircled with a graceful wreath of smoke, to remind you either of an ungenial clime or of the progress of mechanical genius.

But approach the city. All seems very still and quiet. Is it an 'enchanted capital, whose inhabitants have been turned into stone or brass? No; but the streets are not paved; there are no wheel-carriages of any kind; the shoes, more like foot-gloves than shoes, have no nails; no cotton-mills lift up their voice in

the streets; all those noisy triumphs of mechanical genius, in the way of forging, spinning, weaving, beetling, which are so frequent among us, are unknown in Damascus. The Easterns hold on their old course steadily, and yield to no seductions of novelty the water-pump was invented in Alexandria, but the Alexandrians still prefer the ancient well and bucket.

But if the ear is not saluted with the roar and turbulence of mills, forges, and mechanical operations, Damascus has its own peculiar sounds, not less various and interesting in their way. The streets are filled with innumerable dogs, lean, lazy, and hungry-like; mules, donkeys, camels, dromedaries, meet and mingle in those narrow streets, and impress both the eye and the ear of the traveller with a pure and perfect idea of Orientalism.

British cities spread out, as it were indefinitely, into the country, in the way of parks, gardens, summer-houses, gentlemen's seats, and smiling villages. It is not so in the East. The city is within the walls, and all without is garden as at Damascus, or desert as at Jerusalem. Single houses are, in any country, the proof of the supremacy of law as well as of the respectability and independence of labour. Life and property have not attained perfect security in the East: a pistol, or rather a musket, was presented at my breast, within half a mile of Damascus, in broad daylight!

These noble gardens have no inhabitants; nor do any fine cottages, tasteful houses, or princely palaces, adorn this fertile region. Within the city you are safe;-without are dogs, 3 insecurity of property, and the liability of being shot. The whole population, therefore, live either in cities or in villages, except in such regions as Beirout, where European influence and power prevail. There, you have gardens and single houses, much after the English fashion.

But place a Damascene1 at Charing Cross, or at Cheapside, and what do you think would amaze him most? The number of 'vehicles, undoubtedly. He would say, "When will this stream of cars, cabs, coaches, carriages, omnibuses of every shape and size, have an end? Are the people mad? Can they not take their time?"

But had the oriental nations of antiquity no wheel-carriages? They had; the Jews and the Egyptians had them, the Greeks and the Romans had them, and perhaps they may exist in some parts of the East to the present time. Here in Damascus there are none. The streets are not formed for them. The horses are trained only for riding. There are no common, levelled, and

[ocr errors]

well-ordered public roads. Our fathers used no coaches; they preferred the more manly exercise of horsemanship, and yielded the soft, effeminate luxury of the coach to the ladies. But in London there are now about nine hundred omnibuses, each of which takes about £1000 annually. Such is the present state of coaching with us. How different is Damascus ! and how different must the aspect of the streets appear!

With us, the city is laid out in streets, squares, crescents, royal circuses, and similar devices of beauty and regularity. This is the case particularly in the "west-ends" and newer parts of our cities and towns. There is nothing of this in Damascus, or in any of the eastern cities that I have seen: squares, crescents, and circuses are unknown. The streets are extremely irregular, crooked, winding, and narrow; which seems to arise out of the anxiety to find a 'protection from the sun.

In the narrower streets, where the houses are high, the sun's rays are effectually excluded; and in the wider ones, where this is not attainable, the numerous windings and angles afford salient points where the passenger may for a moment or two enjoy the shade. This may appear trifling, but I have often found the heat of the solar rays so intense and unendurable that even the sun-burnt Bedouins, the children of the desert, were glad of the least passing shade, the least momentary shelter, from the intolerable heat.

6

In the bazaars of Damascus, on the contrary, the streets or avenues are laid out with the greatest regularity, and are as straight as possible. In the heat of the day these are nearly deserted; business is at a stand; the merchant is reclining with pipe in mouth, in a state of semi-somnolence, in which the influence of opium or the odour of the 'redolent weed has carried the fertile imagination into the regions of 'celestial ease. In an eastern city you have no prospect. With us you can see a considerable way along the streets. In Damascus you feel absolutely isolated; the streets are so narrow and crooked that at the most you can rarely see a perch before you, and nothing that does meet the eye in the way of buildings has the least attraction. Irregularity in style and clumsiness of execution, combined with the absence of fine doors, all windows, everything in the shape of fronts, railings, ornaments, &c., make the impression in that respect very disagreeable.

In our streets, we are pleased with large houses, fine rows of large windows, tastefully arranged doors and entrances ;-everything seems to convey the idea of order, attention, cleanliness,

« ForrigeFortsæt »