Ivanhoe: A Romance
the Preceptory—May their counsels be confounded and brought to shame!
But do thou, brother, return to me as if it were to the house of thy
father, and bring me word how it has sped with thee; and well do I hope
thou wilt bring with thee Rebecca, even the scholar of the wise Miriam,
whose cures the Gentiles slandered as if they had been wrought by
necromancy.”
Isaac accordingly bade his friend farewell, and about an hour’s riding
brought him before the Preceptory of Templestowe.
This establishment of the Templars was seated amidst fair meadows and
pastures, which the devotion of the former Preceptor had bestowed upon
their Order. It was strong and well fortified, a point never neglected
by these knights, and which the disordered state of England rendered
peculiarly necessary. Two halberdiers, clad 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’. 49
“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. 50
“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