Ivanhoe, Walter Scott [the lemonade war series txt] 📗

in black, guarded the drawbridge, and others, in the same

sad livery, glided to and fro upon the walls with a funereal

pace, resembling spectres more than soldiers. The inferior

officers of the Order were thus dressed, ever since their use of

white garments, similar to those of the knights and esquires, had

given rise to a combination of certain false brethren in the

mountains of Palestine, terming themselves Templars, and bringing

great dishonour on the Order. A knight was now and then seen to

cross the court in his long white cloak, his head depressed on

his breast, and his arms folded. They passed each other, if they

chanced to meet, with a slow, solemn, and mute greeting; for such

was the rule of their Order, quoting thereupon the holy texts,

“In many words thou shalt not avoid sin,” and “Life and death are

in the power of the tongue.” In a word, the stern ascetic rigour

of the Temple discipline, which had been so long exchanged for

prodigal and licentious indulgence, seemed at once to have

revived at Templestowe under the severe eye of Lucas Beaumanoir.

Isaac paused at the gate, to consider how he might seek entrance

in the manner most likely to bespeak favour; for he was well

aware, that to his unhappy race the reviving fanaticism of the

Order was not less dangerous than their unprincipled

licentiousness; and that his religion would be the object of hate

and persecution in the one case, as his wealth would have exposed

him in the other to the extortions of unrelenting oppression.

Meantime Lucas Beaumanoir walked in a small garden belonging to

the Preceptory, included within the precincts of its exterior

fortification, and held sad and confidential communication with a

brother of his Order, who had come in his company from Palestine.

The Grand Master was a man advanced in age, as was testified by

his long grey beard, and the shaggy grey eyebrows overhanging

eyes, of which, however, years had been unable to quench the

fire. A formidable warrior, his thin and severe features

retained the soldier’s fierceness of expression; an ascetic

bigot, they were no less marked by the emaciation of abstinence,

and the spiritual pride of the self-satisfied devotee. Yet with

these severer traits of physiognomy, there was mixed somewhat

striking and noble, arising, doubtless, from the great part which

his high office called upon him to act among monarchs and

princes, and from the habitual exercise of supreme authority over

the valiant and high-born knights, who were united by the rules

of the Order. His stature was tall, and his gait, undepressed by

age and toil, was erect and stately. His white mantle was shaped

with severe regularity, according to the rule of Saint Bernard

himself, being composed of what was then called Burrel cloth,

exactly fitted to the size of the wearer, and bearing on the left

shoulder the octangular cross peculiar to the Order, formed of

red cloth. No vair or ermine decked this garment; but in respect

of his age, the Grand Master, as permitted by the rules, wore his

doublet lined and trimmed with the softest lambskin, dressed with

the wool outwards, which was the nearest approach he could

regularly make to the use of fur, then the greatest luxury of

dress. In his hand he bore that singular “abacus”, or staff of

office, with which Templars are usually represented, having at

the upper end a round plate, on which was engraved the cross of

the Order, inscribed within a circle or orle, as heralds term it.

His companion, who attended on this great personage, had nearly

the same dress in all respects, but his extreme deference towards

his Superior showed that no other equality subsisted between

them. The Preceptor, for such he was in rank, walked not in a

line with the Grand Master, but just so far behind that

Beaumanoir could speak to him without turning round his head.

“Conrade,” said the Grand Master, “dear companion of my battles

and my toils, to thy faithful bosom alone I can confide my

sorrows. To thee alone can I tell how oft, since I came to this

kingdom, I have desired to be dissolved and to be with the just.

Not one object in England hath met mine eye which it could rest

upon with pleasure, save the tombs of our brethren, beneath the

massive roof of our Temple Church in yonder proud capital. O,

valiant Robert de Ros! did I exclaim internally, as I gazed upon

these good soldiers of the cross, where they lie sculptured on

their sepulchres,---O, worthy William de Mareschal! open your

marble cells, and take to your repose a weary brother, who would

rather strive with a hundred thousand pagans than witness the

decay of our Holy Order!”

“It is but true,” answered Conrade Mont-Fitchet; “it is but too

true; and the irregularities of our brethren in England are even

more gross than those in France.”

“Because they are more wealthy,” answered the Grand Master.

“Bear with me, brother, although I should something vaunt myself.

Thou knowest the life I have led, keeping each point of my Order,

striving with devils embodied and disembodied, striking down the

roaring lion, who goeth about seeking whom he may devour, like a

good knight and devout priest, wheresoever I met with him---even

as blessed Saint Bernard hath prescribed to us in the forty-fifth

capital of our rule, ‘Ut Leo semper feriatur’.*

In the ordinances of the Knights of the Temple, this phrase is repeated in a variety of forms, and occurs in almost every chapter, as if it were the signal-word of the Order; which may account for its being so frequently put in the Grand Master’s mouth.

But by the Holy Temple! the zeal which hath devoured my substance

and my life, yea, the very nerves and marrow of my bones; by that

very Holy Temple I swear to thee, that save thyself and some few

that still retain the ancient severity of our Order, I look upon

no brethren whom I can bring my soul to embrace under that holy

name. What say our statutes, and how do our brethren observe

them? They should wear no vain or worldly ornament, no crest

upon their helmet, no gold upon stirrup or bridle-bit; yet who

now go pranked out so proudly and so gaily as the poor soldiers

of the Temple? They are forbidden by our statutes to take one

bird by means of another, to shoot beasts with bow or arblast, to

halloo to a hunting-horn, or to spur the horse after game. But

now, at hunting and hawking, and each idle sport of wood and

river, who so prompt as the Templars in all these fond vanities?

They are forbidden to read, save what their Superior permitted,

or listen to what is read, save such holy things as may be

recited aloud during the hours of refaction; but lo! their ears

are at the command of idle minstrels, and their eyes study empty

romaunts. They were commanded to extirpate magic and heresy.

Lo! they are charged with studying the accursed cabalistical

secrets of the Jews, and the magic of the Paynim Saracens.

Simpleness of diet was prescribed to them, roots, pottage,

gruels, eating flesh but thrice a-week, because the accustomed

feeding on flesh is a dishonourable corruption of the body; and

behold, their tables groan under delicate fare! Their drink was

to be water, and now, to drink like a Templar, is the boast of

each jolly boon companion! This very garden, filled as it is

with curious herbs and trees sent from the Eastern climes, better

becomes the harem of an unbelieving Emir, than the plot which

Christian Monks should devote to raise their homely pot-herbs.

---And O, Conrade! well it were that the relaxation of discipline

stopped even here!---Well thou knowest that we were forbidden to

receive those devout women, who at the beginning were associated

as sisters of our Order, because, saith the forty-sixth chapter,

the Ancient Enemy hath, by female society, withdrawn many from

the right path to paradise. Nay, in the last capital, being, as

it were, the cope-stone which our blessed founder placed on the

pure and undefiled doctrine which he had enjoined, we are

prohibited from offering, even to our sisters and our mothers,

the kiss of affection---‘ut omnium mulierum fugiantur oscula’.

—I shame to speak---I shame to think---of the corruptions which

have rushed in upon us even like a flood. The souls of our pure

founders, the spirits of Hugh de Payen and Godfrey de Saint Omer,

and of the blessed Seven who first joined in dedicating their

lives to the service of the Temple, are disturbed even in the

enjoyment of paradise itself. I have seen them, Conrade, in the

visions of the night---their sainted eyes shed tears for the sins

and follies of their brethren, and for the foul and shameful

luxury in which they wallow. Beaumanoir, they say, thou

slumberest---awake! There is a stain in the fabric of the

Temple, deep and foul as that left by the streaks of leprosy on

the walls of the infected houses of old.*

See the 13th chapter of Leviticus.

The soldiers of the Cross, who should shun the glance of a woman

as the eye of a basilisk, live in open sin, not with the females

of their own race only, but with the daughters of the accursed

heathen, and more accursed Jew. Beaumanoir, thou sleepest; up,

and avenge our cause!---Slay the sinners, male and female!---Take

to thee the brand of Phineas!---The vision fled, Conrade, but as

I awaked I could still hear the clank of their mail, and see the

waving of their white mantles.---And I will do according to their

word, I WILL purify the fabric of the Temple! and the unclean

stones in which the plague is, I will remove and cast out of the

building.”

“Yet bethink thee, reverend father,” said Mont-Fitchet, “the

stain hath become engrained by time and consuetude; let thy

reformation be cautious, as it is just and wise.”

“No, Mont-Fitchet,” answered the stern old man---“it must be

sharp and sudden---the Order is on the crisis of its fate. The

sobriety, self-devotion, and piety of our predecessors, made us

powerful friends---our presumption, our wealth, our luxury, have

raised up against us mighty enemies.---We must cast away these

riches, which are a temptation to princes---we must lay down that

presumption, which is an offence to them---we must reform that

license of manners, which is a scandal to the whole Christian

world! Or---mark my words---the Order of the Temple will be

utterly demolished---and the Place thereof shall no more be known

among the nations.”

“Now may God avert such a calamity!” said the Preceptor.

“Amen,” said the Grand Master, with solemnity, “but we must

deserve his aid. I tell thee, Conrade, that neither the powers

in Heaven, nor the powers on earth, will longer endure the

wickedness of this generation---My intelligence is sure---the

ground on which our fabric is reared is already undermined, and

each addition we make to the structure of our greatness will only

sink it the sooner in the abyss. We must retrace our steps, and

show ourselves the faithful Champions of the Cross, sacrificing

to our calling, not alone our blood and our lives---not alone our

lusts and our vices---but our ease, our comforts, and our natural

affections, and act as men convinced that many a pleasure which

may be lawful to others, is forbidden to the vowed soldier of the

Temple.”

At this moment a squire, clothed in a threadbare vestment, (for

the aspirants after this holy Order wore during their noviciate

the cast-off garments of the knights,) entered the garden, and,

bowing profoundly before the Grand Master, stood silent, awaiting

his permission ere he presumed to tell his errand.

“Is it not more seemly,” said