One sent forth the praises of Athelstane in a doleful
panegyric; another, in a Saxon genealogical poem,
rehearsed the uncouth and harsh names of his noble
ancestry. Jesters and jugglers were not awanting,
nor was the occasion of the assembly supposed to render
the exercise of their profession indecorous or improper.
Indeed the ideas of the Saxons on these occasions
were as natural as they were rude. If sorrow
was thirsty, there was drink—–if
hungry, there was food—–if it sunk
down upon and saddened the heart, here were the means
supplied of mirth, or at least of amusement.
Nor did the assistants scorn to avail themselves of
those means of consolation, although, every now and
then, as if suddenly recollecting the cause which
had brought them together, the men groaned in unison,
while the females, of whom many were present, raised
up their voices and shrieked for very woe.
Such was the scene in the castle-yard at Coningsburgh
when it was entered by Richard and his followers.
The seneschal or steward deigned not to take notice
of the groups of inferior guests who were perpetually
entering and withdrawing, unless so far as was necessary
to preserve order; nevertheless he was struck by the
good mien of the Monarch and Ivanhoe, more especially
as he imagined the features of the latter were familiar
to him. Besides, the approach of two knights,
for such their dress bespoke them, was a rare event
at a Saxon solemnity, and could not but be regarded
as a sort of honour to the deceased and his family.
And in his sable dress, and holding in his hand his
white wand of office, this important personage made
way through the miscellaneous assemblage of guests,
thus conducting Richard and Ivanhoe to the entrance
of the tower. Gurth and Wamba speedily found
acquaintances in the court-yard, nor presumed to intrude
themselves any farther until their presence should
be required.
CHAPTER XLII
I found them winding of Marcello’s corpse.
And there was such a solemn melody,
’Twixt doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies,—–
Such as old grandames, watching by the dead,
Are wont to outwear the night with.
Old Play
The mode of entering the great tower of Coningsburgh
Castle is very peculiar, and partakes of the rude
simplicity of the early times in which it was erected.
A flight of steps, so deep and narrow as to be almost
precipitous, leads up to a low portal in the south
side of the tower, by which the adventurous antiquary
may still, or at least could a few years since, gain
access to a small stair within the thickness of the
main wall of the tower, which leads up to the third
story of the building,—–the two lower
being dungeons or vaults, which neither receive air
nor light, save by a square hole in the third story,
with which they seem to have communicated by a ladder.
The access to the upper apartments in the tower which
consist in all of four stories, is given by stairs
which are carried up through the external buttresses.
