Knights, with a long retinue of their squires,
In gaudy liveries march and quaint attires;
One laced the helm, another held the lance,
A third the shining buckler did advance.
The courser paw’d the ground with restless feet,
And snorting foam’d and champ’d the golden bit.
The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride,
Files in their hands, and hammers at their side;
And nails for loosen’d spears, and thongs for shields provide.
The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands;
And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their hands.
PALAMON AND ARCITE
The condition of the English nation was at this time sufficiently
miserable. King Richard was absent a prisoner, and in the power of the
perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria. Even the very place of his
captivity was uncertain, and his fate but very imperfectly known to the
generality of his subjects, who were, in the meantime, a prey to every
species of subaltern oppression.
Prince John, in league with Philip of France, Cœur-de-Lion’s mortal
enemy, was using every species of influence with the Duke of Austria,
to prolong the captivity of his brother Richard, to whom he stood
indebted for so many favours. In the meantime, he was strengthening his
own faction in the kingdom, of which he proposed to dispute the
succession, in case of the King’s death, with the legitimate heir,
Arthur Duke of Brittany, son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, the elder brother
of John. This usurpation, it is well known, he afterwards effected. His
own character being light, profligate, and perfidious, John easily
attached to his person and faction, not only all who had reason to
dread the resentment of Richard for criminal proceedings during his
absence, but also the numerous class of “lawless resolutes,” whom the
crusades had turned back on their country, accomplished in the vices of
the East, impoverished in substance, and hardened in character, and who
placed their hopes of harvest in civil commotion. To these causes of
public distress and apprehension, must be added, the multitude of
outlaws, who, driven to despair by the oppression of the feudal
nobility, and the severe exercise of the forest laws, banded together
in large gangs, and, keeping possession of the forests and the wastes,
set at defiance the justice and magistracy of the country. The nobles
themselves, each fortified within his own castle, and playing the petty
sovereign over his own dominions, were the leaders of bands scarce less
lawless and oppressive than those of the avowed depredators. To
maintain these retainers, and to support the extravagance and
magnificence which their pride induced them to affect, the nobility
borrowed sums of money from the Jews at the most usurious interest,
which gnawed into their estates like consuming cankers, scarce to be
cured unless when circumstances gave them an opportunity of getting
free, by exercising upon their creditors some act of unprincipled
violence.
Under the various burdens imposed by this unhappy state of affairs, the
people of England suffered deeply for the present, and had yet more
dreadful cause to fear for the future. To augment their misery, a
contagious disorder of a dangerous nature spread through the land; and,
rendered more virulent by the uncleanness, the indifferent food, and
the wretched lodging of the lower classes, swept off many whose fate
the survivors were tempted to envy, as exempting them from the evils
which were to come.
Yet amid these accumulated distresses, the poor as well as the rich,
the vulgar as well as the noble, in the event of a tournament, which
was the grand spectacle of that age, felt as much interested as the
half-starved citizen of Madrid, who has not a real left to buy
provisions for his family, feels in the issue of a bull-feast. Neither
duty nor infirmity could keep youth or age from such exhibitions. The
Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby, in
the county of Leicester, as champions of the first renown were to take
the field in the presence of Prince John himself, who was expected to
grace the lists, had attracted universal attention, and an immense
confluence of persons of all ranks hastened upon the appointed morning
to the place of combat.
The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood, which
approached to within a mile of the town of Ashby, was an extensive
meadow, of the finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded on one
side by the forest, and fringed on the other by straggling oak-trees,
some of which had grown to an immense size. The ground, as if fashioned
on purpose for the martial display which was intended, sloped gradually
down on all sides to a level bottom, which was enclosed for the lists
with strong palisades, forming a space of a quarter of a mile in
length, and about half as broad. The form of the enclosure was an
oblong square, save that the corners were considerably rounded off, in
order to afford more convenience for the spectators. The openings for
the entry of the combatants were at the northern and southern
extremities of the lists, accessible by strong wooden gates, each wide
enough to admit two horsemen riding abreast. At each of these portals
were stationed two heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many
pursuivants, and a strong body of men-at-arms for maintaining order,
and ascertaining the quality of the knights who proposed to engage in
this martial game.
On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural
elevation of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions,
adorned with pennons of russet and black, the chosen colours of the
five knights challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same
colour. Before each pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by
whom it was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly
disguised as a salvage or silvan man, or in some other fantastic dress,
according to the taste of his master, and the character he was pleased
to assume during the game. 16
The central pavilion, as the place of honour, had been assigned to
Brian be Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of chivalry, no less
than his connexions with the knights who had undertaken this Passage of
Arms, had occasioned him to be eagerly received into the company of the
challengers, and even adopted as their chief and leader, though he had
so recently joined them. On one side of his tent were pitched those of
Reginald Front-de-Bœuf and Richard de Malvoisin, and on the other was
the pavilion of Hugh de Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity,
whose ancestor had been Lord High Steward of England in the time of the
Conqueror, and his son William Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of St
John of Jerusalem, who had some ancient possessions at a place called
Heather, near Ashby-de-la-Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion. From the
entrance into the lists, a gently sloping passage, ten yards in
breadth, led up to the platform on which the tents were pitched. It was
strongly secured by a palisade on each side, as was the esplanade in
front of the pavilions, and the whole was guarded by men-at-arms.
The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of
thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed
space for such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the
challengers, behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of
every kind for their accommodation, with armourers, tarriers, and other
attendants, in readiness to give their services wherever they might be
necessary.
The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries,
spread with tapestry and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for
the convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expected to attend
the tournament. A narrow space, betwixt these galleries and the lists,
gave accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than
the mere vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The
promiscuous multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf
prepared for the purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the
ground, enabled them to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view
into the lists. Besides the accommodation which these stations
afforded, many hundreds had perched themselves on the branches of the
trees which surrounded the meadow; and even the steeple of a country
church, at some distance, was crowded with spectators.
It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that one
gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and
consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat
was to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly
decorated, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the
royal arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich
liveries, waited around this place of honour, which was designed for
Prince John and his attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was
another, elevated to the same height, on the western side of the lists;
and more gaily, if less sumptuously decorated, than that destined for
the Prince himself. A train of pages and of young maidens, the most
beautiful who could be selected, gaily dressed in fancy habits of green
and pink, surrounded a throne decorated in the same colours. Among
pennons and flags bearing wounded hearts, burning hearts, bleeding
hearts, bows and quivers, and all the commonplace emblems of the
triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned inscription informed the spectators, that
this seat of honour was designed for “La Royne de las Beaulte et des
Amours”. But who was to represent the Queen of Beauty and of Love on
the present occasion no one was prepared to guess.
Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy
their respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning
those which they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by
the men-at-arms with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes,
and pummels of their swords, being readily employed as arguments to
convince the more refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims
of more elevated persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two
marshals of the field, William de Wyvil, and Stephen de Martival, who,
armed at all points, rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve
good order among the spectators.
Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their
robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with
the gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater
proportion than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport,
which one would have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their
sex much pleasure. The lower and interior space was soon filled by
substantial yeomen and burghers, and such of the lesser gentry, as,
from modesty, poverty, or dubious title, durst not assume any higher
place. It was of course amongst these that the most frequent disputes
for precedence occurred.
“Dog of an unbeliever,” said an old man, whose threadbare tunic bore
witness to his poverty, as his sword, and dagger, and golden chain
intimated his pretensions to rank,—“whelp of a she-wolf! darest thou
press upon a Christian, and a Norman gentleman of the blood of
Montdidier?”
This rough expostulation was addressed to no other than our
acquaintance Isaac, who, richly and even magnificently dressed in a
gaberdine ornamented with lace and lined with fur, was endeavouring to
make place in the foremost row beneath the gallery for his daughter,
the beautiful Rebecca, who had joined him at Ashby, and who was now
hanging on her father’s arm, not a little terrified by the popular
displeasure which seemed generally excited by her parent’s presumption.
But Isaac, though we have seen him sufficiently timid on other
occasions, knew well that at present he had nothing to fear. It was not
in places of general resort, or where their equals were assembled, that
any avaricious or malevolent noble durst offer him injury. At such
meetings the Jews were under the protection of the general law; and if
that proved a weak assurance, it usually happened that there were among
the persons assembled some barons, who, for their own interested
motives, were ready to act as their protectors. On the present
occasion, Isaac felt more than usually confident, being aware that
Prince John was even then in the very act of negotiating a large loan
from the Jews of York, to be secured upon certain jewels and lands.
Isaac’s own share in this transaction was considerable, and he well
knew that the Prince’s eager desire to bring it to a conclusion would
ensure him his protection in the dilemma in which he stood.
Emboldened by these considerations, the Jew pursued his point, and
jostled the Norman Christian, without respect either to his descent,
quality, or religion. The complaints of the old man, however, excited
the indignation of the bystanders. One of these, a stout well-set
yeoman, arrayed in Lincoln green, having twelve arrows stuck in his
belt, with a baldric and badge of silver, and a bow of six feet length
in his hand, turned short round, and while his countenance, which his
constant exposure to weather had rendered brown as a hazel nut, grew
darker with anger, he advised the Jew to remember that all the wealth
he had acquired by sucking the blood of his miserable victims had but
swelled him like a bloated spider, which might be overlooked while he
kept in a corner, but would be crushed if it ventured into the light.
This intimation, delivered in Norman-English with a firm voice and a
stern aspect, made the Jew shrink back; and he would have probably
withdrawn himself altogether from a vicinity so dangerous, had not the
attention of every one been called to the sudden entrance of Prince
John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous and
gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of churchmen, as light
in their dress, and as gay in their demeanour, as their companions.
Among the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim
which a dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold
were not spared in his garments; and the points of his boots,
out-heroding the preposterous fashion of the time, turned up so very
far, as to be attached, not to his knees merely, but to his very
girdle, and effectually prevented him from putting his foot into the
stirrup. This, however, was a slight inconvenience to the gallant
Abbot, who, perhaps, even rejoicing in the opportunity to display his
accomplished horsemanship before so many spectators, especially of the
fair sex, dispensed with the use of these supports to a timid rider.
The rest of Prince John’s retinue consisted of the favourite leaders of
his mercenary troops, some marauding barons and profligate attendants
upon the court, with several Knights Templars and Knights of St John.
It may be here remarked, that the knights of these two orders were
accounted hostile to King Richard, having adopted the side of Philip of
France in the long train of disputes which took place in Palestine
betwixt that monarch and the lion-hearted King of England. It was the
well-known consequence of this discord that Richard’s repeated
victories had been rendered fruitless, his romantic attempts to besiege
Jerusalem disappointed, and the fruit of all the glory which he had
acquired had dwindled into an uncertain truce with the Sultan Saladin.
With the same policy which had dictated the conduct of their brethren
in the Holy Land, the Templars and Hospitallers in England and Normandy
attached themselves to the faction of Prince John, having little reason
to desire the return of Richard to England, or the succession of
Arthur, his legitimate heir. For the opposite reason, Prince John hated
and contemned the few Saxon families of consequence which subsisted in
England, and omitted no opportunity of mortifying and affronting them;
being conscious that his person and pretensions were disliked by them,
as well as by the greater part of the English commons, who feared
farther innovation upon their rights and liberties, from a sovereign of
John’s licentious and tyrannical disposition.
Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly
dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and
having his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of
precious stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread
his shoulders, Prince John, upon a grey and high-mettled palfrey,
caracoled within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing
loud with his train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal
criticism the beauties who adorned the lofty galleries.
Those who remarked in the physiognomy of the Prince a dissolute
audacity, mingled with extreme haughtiness and indifference to the
feelings of others could not yet deny to his countenance that sort of
comeliness which belongs to an open set of features, well formed by
nature, modelled by art to the usual rules of courtesy, yet so far
frank and honest, that they seemed as if they disclaimed to conceal the
natural workings of the soul. Such an expression is often mistaken for
manly frankness, when in truth it arises from the reckless indifference
of a libertine disposition, conscious of superiority of birth, of
wealth, or of some other adventitious advantage, totally unconnected
with personal merit. To those who did not think so deeply, and they
were the greater number by a hundred to one, the splendour of Prince
John’s “rheno”, (i.e. fur tippet,) the richness of his cloak, lined
with the most costly sables, his maroquin boots and golden spurs,
together with the grace with which he managed his palfrey, were
sufficient to merit clamorous applause.
In his joyous caracole round the lists, the attention of the Prince was
called by the commotion, not yet subsided, which had attended the
ambitious movement of Isaac towards the higher places of the assembly.
The quick eye of Prince John instantly recognised the Jew, but was much
more agreeably attracted by the beautiful daughter of Zion, who,
terrified by the tumult, clung close to the arm of her aged father.
The figure of Rebecca might indeed have compared with the proudest
beauties of England, even though it had been judged by as shrewd a
connoisseur as Prince John. Her form was exquisitely symmetrical, and
was shown to advantage by a sort of Eastern dress, which she wore
according to the fashion of the females of her nation. Her turban of
yellow silk suited well with the darkness of her complexion. The
brilliancy of her eyes, the superb arch of her eyebrows, her
well-formed aquiline nose, her teeth as white as pearl, and the
profusion of her sable tresses, which, each arranged in its own little
spiral of twisted curls, fell down upon as much of a lovely neck and
bosom as a simarre of the richest Persian silk, exhibiting flowers in
their natural colours embossed upon a purple ground, permitted to be
visible—all these constituted a combination of loveliness, which
yielded not to the most beautiful of the maidens who surrounded her. It
is true, that of the golden and pearl-studded clasps, which closed her
vest from the throat to the waist, the three uppermost were left
unfastened on account of the heat, which somewhat enlarged the prospect
to which we allude. A diamond necklace, with pendants of inestimable
value, were by this means also made more conspicuous. The feather of an
ostrich, fastened in her turban by an agraffe set with brilliants, was
another distinction of the beautiful Jewess, scoffed and sneered at by
the proud dames who sat above her, but secretly envied by those who
affected to deride them.
“By the bald scalp of Abraham,” said Prince John, “yonder Jewess must
be the very model of that perfection, whose charms drove frantic the
wisest king that ever lived! What sayest thou, Prior Aymer?—By the
Temple of that wise king, which our wiser brother Richard proved unable
to recover, she is the very Bride of the Canticles!”
“The Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley,”—answered the Prior, in
a sort of snuffling tone; “but your Grace must remember she is still
but a Jewess.”
“Ay!” added Prince John, without heeding him, “and there is my Mammon
of unrighteousness too—the Marquis of Marks, the Baron of Byzants,
contesting for place with penniless dogs, whose threadbare cloaks have
not a single cross in their pouches to keep the devil from dancing
there. By the body of St Mark, my prince of supplies, with his lovely
Jewess, shall have a place in the gallery!—What is she, Isaac? Thy wife
or thy daughter, that Eastern houri that thou lockest under thy arm as
thou wouldst thy treasure-casket?”
“My daughter Rebecca, so please your Grace,” answered Isaac, with a low
congee, nothing embarrassed by the Prince’s salutation, in which,
however, there was at least as much mockery as courtesy.
“The wiser man thou,” said John, with a peal of laughter, in which his
gay followers obsequiously joined. “But, daughter or wife, she should
be preferred according to her beauty and thy merits.—Who sits above
there?” he continued, bending his eye on the gallery. “Saxon churls,
lolling at their lazy length!—out upon them!—let them sit close, and
make room for my prince of usurers and his lovely daughter. I’ll make
the hinds know they must share the high places of the synagogue with
those whom the synagogue properly belongs to.”
Those who occupied the gallery to whom this injurious and unpolite
speech was addressed, were the family of Cedric the Saxon, with that of
his ally and kinsman, Athelstane of Coningsburgh, a personage, who, on
account of his descent from the last Saxon monarchs of England, was
held in the highest respect by all the Saxon natives of the north of
England. But with the blood of this ancient royal race, many of their
infirmities had descended to Athelstane. He was comely in countenance,
bulky and strong in person, and in the flower of his age—yet inanimate
in expression, dull-eyed, heavy-browed, inactive and sluggish in all
his motions, and so slow in resolution, that the soubriquet of one of
his ancestors was conferred upon him, and he was very generally called
Athelstane the Unready. His friends, and he had many, who, as well as
Cedric, were passionately attached to him, contended that this sluggish
temper arose not from want of courage, but from mere want of decision;
others alleged that his hereditary vice of drunkenness had obscured his
faculties, never of a very acute order, and that the passive courage
and meek good-nature which remained behind, were merely the dregs of a
character that might have been deserving of praise, but of which all
the valuable parts had flown off in the progress of a long course of
brutal debauchery.
It was to this person, such as we have described him, that the Prince
addressed his imperious command to make place for Isaac and Rebecca.
Athelstane, utterly confounded at an order which the manners and
feelings of the times rendered so injuriously insulting, unwilling to
obey, yet undetermined how to resist, opposed only the “vis inertiae”
to the will of John; and, without stirring or making any motion
whatever of obedience, opened his large grey eyes, and stared at the
Prince with an astonishment which had in it something extremely
ludicrous. But the impatient John regarded it in no such light.
“The Saxon porker,” he said, “is either asleep or minds me not—Prick
him with your lance, De Bracy,” speaking to a knight who rode near him,
the leader of a band of Free Companions, or Condottieri; that is, of
mercenaries belonging to no particular nation, but attached for the
time to any prince by whom they were paid. There was a murmur even
among the attendants of Prince John; but De Bracy, whose profession
freed him from all scruples, extended his long lance over the space
which separated the gallery from the lists, and would have executed the
commands of the Prince before Athelstane the Unready had recovered
presence of mind sufficient even to draw back his person from the
weapon, had not Cedric, as prompt as his companion was tardy,
unsheathed, with the speed of lightning, the short sword which he wore,
and at a single blow severed the point of the lance from the handle.
The blood rushed into the countenance of Prince John. He swore one of
his deepest oaths, and was about to utter some threat corresponding in
violence, when he was diverted from his purpose, partly by his own
attendants, who gathered around him conjuring him to be patient, partly
by a general exclamation of the crowd, uttered in loud applause of the
spirited conduct of Cedric. The Prince rolled his eyes in indignation,
as if to collect some safe and easy victim; and chancing to encounter
the firm glance of the same archer whom we have already noticed, and
who seemed to persist in his gesture of applause, in spite of the
frowning aspect which the Prince bent upon him, he demanded his reason
for clamouring thus.
“I always add my hollo,” said the yeoman, “when I see a good shot, or a
gallant blow.”
“Sayst thou?” answered the Prince; “then thou canst hit the white
thyself, I’ll warrant.”
“A woodsman’s mark, and at woodsman’s distance, I can hit,” answered
the yeoman.
“And Wat Tyrrel’s mark, at a hundred yards,” said a voice from behind,
but by whom uttered could not be discerned.
This allusion to the fate of William Rufus, his Relative, at once
incensed and alarmed Prince John. He satisfied himself, however, with
commanding the men-at-arms, who surrounded the lists, to keep an eye on
the braggart, pointing to the yeoman.
“By St Grizzel,” he added, “we will try his own skill, who is so ready
to give his voice to the feats of others!”
“I shall not fly the trial,” said the yeoman, with the composure which
marked his whole deportment.
“Meanwhile, stand up, ye Saxon churls,” said the fiery Prince; “for, by
the light of Heaven, since I have said it, the Jew shall have his seat
amongst ye!”
“By no means, an it please your Grace!—it is not fit for such as we to
sit with the rulers of the land,” said the Jew; whose ambition for
precedence though it had led him to dispute Place with the extenuated
and impoverished descendant of the line of Montdidier, by no means
stimulated him to an intrusion upon the privileges of the wealthy
Saxons.
“Up, infidel dog when I command you,” said Prince John, “or I will have
thy swarthy hide stript off, and tanned for horse-furniture.”
Thus urged, the Jew began to ascend the steep and narrow steps which
led up to the gallery.
“Let me see,” said the Prince, “who dare stop him,” fixing his eye on
Cedric, whose attitude intimated his intention to hurl the Jew down
headlong.
The catastrophe was prevented by the clown Wamba, who, springing
betwixt his master and Isaac, and exclaiming, in answer to the Prince’s
defiance, “Marry, that will I!” opposed to the beard of the Jew a
shield of brawn, which he plucked from beneath his cloak, and with
which, doubtless, he had furnished himself, lest the tournament should
have proved longer than his appetite could endure abstinence. Finding
the abomination of his tribe opposed to his very nose, while the
Jester, at the same time, flourished his wooden sword above his head,
the Jew recoiled, missed his footing, and rolled down the steps,—an
excellent jest to the spectators, who set up a loud laughter, in which
Prince John and his attendants heartily joined.
“Deal me the prize, cousin Prince,” said Wamba; “I have vanquished my
foe in fair fight with sword and shield,” he added, brandishing the
brawn in one hand and the wooden sword in the other.
“Who, and what art thou, noble champion?” said Prince John, still
laughing.
“A fool by right of descent,” answered the Jester; “I am Wamba, the son
of Witless, who was the son of Weatherbrain, who was the son of an
Alderman.”
“Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring,” said Prince John,
not unwilling perhaps to seize an apology to desist from his original
purpose; “to place the vanquished beside the victor were false
heraldry.”
“Knave upon fool were worse,” answered the Jester, “and Jew upon bacon
worst of all.”
“Gramercy! good fellow,” cried Prince John, “thou pleasest me—Here,
Isaac, lend me a handful of byzants.”
As the Jew, stunned by the request, afraid to refuse, and unwilling to
comply, fumbled in the furred bag which hung by his girdle, and was
perhaps endeavouring to ascertain how few coins might pass for a
handful, the Prince stooped from his jennet and settled Isaac’s doubts
by snatching the pouch itself from his side; and flinging to Wamba a
couple of the gold pieces which it contained, he pursued his career
round the lists, leaving the Jew to the derision of those around him,
and himself receiving as much applause from the spectators as if he had
done some honest and honourable action.