Rebecca and Rowena

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Rebecca and Rowena Page 8

by William Makepeace Thackeray

pen would in vain endeavor to depict. Old Isaac staggered back in a

  fit, and nobody took the least notice of him. Groans, curses, yells of

  men, shrieks of women, filled room with such a furious jabbering, as

  might have appalled the any heart less stout than Rebecca's; but that

  brave woman was prepared for all; expecting, and perhaps hoping, that

  death would be her instant lot. There was but one creature who pitied

  her, and that was her cousin and father's clerk, little Ben Davids, who

  was but thirteen, and had only just begun to carry a bag, and whose

  crying and boohooing, as she finished speaking, was drowned in the

  screams and maledictions of the elder Israelites. Ben Davids was madly

  in love with his cousin (as boys often are with ladies of twice their

  age), and he had presence of mind suddenly to knock over the large

  brazen lamp on the table, which illuminated the angry conclave; then,

  whispering to Rebecca to go up to her own room and lock herself in, or

  they would kill her else, he took her hand and led her out.

  From that day she disappeared from among her people. The poor and the

  wretched missed her, and asked for her in vain. Had any violence been

  done to her, the poorer Jews would have risen and put all Isaac's

  family to death; and besides, her old flame, Prince Boabdil, would have

  also been exceedingly wrathful. She was not killed then, but, so to

  speak, buried alive, and locked up in Isaac's back-kitchen: an

  apartment into which scarcely any light, entered, and where she was fed

  upon scanty portions of the most mouldy bread and water. Little Ben

  Davids was the only person who visited her, and her sole consolation

  was to talk to him about Ivanhoe, and how good and how gentle he was;

  how brave and how true; and how he slew the tremendous knight of the

  Templars, and how he married a lady whom Rebecca scarcely thought

  worthy of him, but with whom she prayed he might be happy ; and of what

  color his eyes were, and what were the arms on his shield viz. a tree

  with the word "Desdichado" written underneath, &c.

  &c. &c.: all which talk would not have interested little Davids, had

  it come from anybody else's mouth, but to which he never tired of

  listening as it fell from her sweet lips.

  So, in fact, when old Isaac of York came to negotiate with Don Beltran

  de Cuchilla for the ransom of the Alfaqui's daughter of Xixona, our

  dearest Rebecca was no more dead than you and I; and it was in his rage

  and fury against Ivanhoe that Isaac told that cavalier the falsehood

  which caused the knight so much pain and such a prodigious deal of

  bloodshed to the Moors: and who knows, trivial as it may seem, whether

  it was not that very circumstance which caused the destruction in Spain

  of the Moorish power?

  Although Isaac, we may be sure, never told his daughter that Ivanhoe

  had cast up again, yet Master Ben Davids did, who heard it from his

  employer; and he saved Rebecca's life by communicating the

  intelligence, for the poor thing would have infallibly perished but for

  this good news. She had now been in prison four years three months and

  twenty-four days, during which time she had partaken of nothing but

  bread and water (except such occasional tidbits as Davids could bring

  her and these were few indeed; for old Isaac was always a curmudgeon,

  and seldom had more than a pair of eggs for his own and Davids' dinner)

  ; and she was languishing away, when the news came suddenly to revive

  her. Then, though in the darkness you could not see her cheeks, they

  began to bloom again: then her heart began to beat and her blood to

  flow, and she kissed the ring on her neck a thousand times a day at

  least; and her constant question was, "Ben Davids!

  Ben Davids! when is he coming to besiege Valencia?" She knew he would

  come: and, indeed, the Christians were encamped before the town ere a

  month was over.

  And now, my dear boys and girls, I think I perceive behind that dark

  scene of the back-kitchen (which is just a simple flat, painted

  stone-color, that shifts in a minute,) bright streaks of light flashing

  out, as though they were preparing a most brilliant, gorgeous, and

  altogether dazzling illumination, with effects never before attempted

  on any stage. Yes, the fairy in the pretty pink tights and spangled

  muslin is getting into the brilliant revolving chariot of the realms of

  bliss. Yes, most of the fiddlers and trumpeters have gone round from

  the orchestra to join in the grand triumphal procession, where the

  whole strength of the company is already assembled, arrayed in costumes

  of Moorish and Christian Chivalry, to celebrate the "Terrible

  Escalade," the "Rescue of Virtuous Innocence the "Grand Entry of the

  Christians into Valencia" - "Appearance of the Fairy Day-Star," and

  "Unexampled displays of pyrotechnic festivity." Do you not, I say,

  perceive that we are come to the end of our history; and, after a

  quantity of rapid and terrific fighting, brilliant change of scenery,

  and songs appropriate or otherwise, are bringing our hero and heroine

  together? Who wants a long scene at the last? Mammas are putting the

  girls' cloaks and boas on; papas have gone out to look for the

  carriage, and left the box-door swinging open, and letting in the cold

  air: if there were any stage-conversation, you could not hear it, for

  the scuffling of the people who are leaving the pit. See, the

  orange-women are preparing to retire. To-morrow their play-bills will

  be as so much waste-paper so will some of our masterpieces, woe is me:

  but lo! here we come to Scene the last, and Valencia is besieged and

  captured by the Christians.

  Who is the first on the wall, and who hurls down the green standard of

  the Prophet? Who chops off the head of the Emir Aboo What-dye-call'im,

  just as the latter has cut over the cruel Don Beliran de Cuchillay &c.?

  Who, attracted to the Jewish quarter by the shrieks of the inhabitants

  who are being slain by the Moorish soldiery, and by a little boy by the

  name of Ben Davids, who recognizes the knight by his shield, finds

  Isaac of York _egorge on a threshold, and clasping a large kitchen key?

  Who but Ivanhoe who but Wilfrid? "An Ivanhoe to the rescue," he

  bellows out; he has heard that news from little Ben Davids which makes

  him sing. And who is it that comes out of the house trembling panting

  with her arms out in a white dress with her hair down who is it but

  dear Rebecca? Look, they rush together, and Master Wamba is waving an

  immense banner over them, and knocks down a circumambient Jew with a

  ham, which he happens to have in his pocket.... As for Rebecca, now her

  head is laid upon Ivanhoe's heart, I shall not ask to hear what she is

  whispering, or describe further that scene of meeting; though I declare

  I am quite affected when I think of it. Indeed I have thought of it

  any time these five-and-twenty years ever since, as a boy at school, I

  commenced the noble study of novels ever since the day when, lying on

  sunny slopes of half-holidays, the fair chivalrous figures and

  beautiful shapes of knights
and ladies were visible to me ever since I

  grew to love Rebecca, that sweetest creature of the poet's fancy, and

  longed to see her righted.

  That she and Ivanhoe were married, follows of course; for Rowena's

  promise extorted from him was, that he would never wed a Jewess, and a

  better Christian than Rebecca now was never said her catechism. Married

  I am sure they were, and adopted little Cedric; but I don't think they

  had any other children, or were subsequently very boisterously happy.

  Of some sort of happiness melancholy is a characteristic, and I think

  these were a solemn pair, and died rather early.

 

 

 


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