Ivanhoe
A Romance
by Sir Walter Scott
Contents
INTRODUCTION TO IVANHOE.
DEDICATORY EPISTLE
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIV.
NOTE TO CHAPTER I.
NOTE TO CHAPTER II.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XVII.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXI.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXII.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXIX.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXI.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXII.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXIII.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XLI..
FOOTNOTES
Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart,
And often took leave,—but seemed loath to depart! 1
—Prior.
INTRODUCTION TO IVANHOE.
The Author of the Waverley Novels had hitherto proceeded in an unabated
course of popularity, and might, in his peculiar district of
literature, have been termed _L’Enfant Gâté_ of success. It was plain,
however, that frequent publication must finally wear out the public
favour, unless some mode could be devised to give an appearance of
novelty to subsequent productions. Scottish manners, Scottish dialect,
and Scottish characters of note, being those with which the author was
most intimately, and familiarly acquainted, were the groundwork upon
which he had hitherto relied for giving effect to his narrative. It
was, however, obvious, that this kind of interest must in the end
occasion a degree of sameness and repetition, if exclusively resorted
to, and that the reader was likely at length to adopt the language of
Edwin, in Parnell’s Tale:
“‘Reverse the spell,’ he cries,
‘And let it fairly now suffice.
The gambol has been shown.’”
Nothing can be more dangerous for the fame of a professor of the fine
arts, than to permit (if he can possibly prevent it) the character of a
mannerist to be attached to him, or that he should be supposed capable
of success only in a particular and limited style. The public are, in
general, very ready to adopt the opinion, that he who has pleased them
in one peculiar mode of composition, is, by means of that very talent,
rendered incapable of venturing upon other subjects. The effect of this
disinclination, on the part of the public, towards the artificers of
their pleasures, when they attempt to enlarge their means of amusing,
may be seen in the censures usually passed by vulgar criticism upon
actors or artists who venture to change the character of their efforts,
that, in so doing, they may enlarge the scale of their art.
There is some justice in this opinion, as there always is in such as
attain general currency. It may often happen on the stage, that an
actor, by possessing in a preeminent degree the external qualities
necessary to give effect to comedy, may be deprived of the right to
aspire to tragic excellence; and in painting or literary composition,
an artist or poet may be master exclusively of modes of thought, and
powers of expression, which confine him to a single course of subjects.
But much more frequently the same capacity which carries a man to
popularity in one department will obtain for him success in another,
and that must be more particularly the case in literary composition,
than either in acting or painting, because the adventurer in that
department is not impeded in his exertions by any peculiarity of
features, or conformation of person, proper for particular parts, or,
by any peculiar mechanical habits of using the pencil, limited to a
particular class of subjects.
Whether this reasoning be correct or otherwise, the present author
felt, that, in confining himself to subjects purely Scottish, he was
not only likely to weary out the indulgence of his readers, but also
greatly to limit his own power of affording them pleasure. In a highly
polished country, where so much genius is monthly employed in catering
for public amusement, a fresh topic, such as he had himself had the
happiness to light upon, is the untasted spring of the desert;—
“Men bless their stars and call it luxury.”
But when men and horses, cattle, camels, and dromedaries, have poached
the spring into mud, it becomes loathsome to those who at first drank
of it with rapture; and he who had the merit of discovering it, if he
would preserve his reputation with the tribe, must display his talent
by a fresh discovery of untasted fountains.
If the author, who finds himself limited to a particular class of
subjects, endeavours to sustain his reputation by striving to add a
novelty of attraction to themes of the same character which have been
formerly successful under his management, there are manifest reasons
why, after a certain point, he is likely to fail. If the mine be not
wrought out, the strength and capacity of the miner become necessarily
exhausted. If he closely imitates the narratives which he has before
rendered successful, he is doomed to “wonder that they please no more.”
If he struggles to take a different view of the same class of subjects,
he speedily discovers that what is obvious, graceful, and natural, has
been exhausted; and, in order to obtain the indispensable charm of
novelty, he is forced upon caricature, and, to avoid being trite, must
become extravagant.
It is not, perhaps, necessary to enumerate so many reasons why the
author of the Scottish Novels, as they were then exclusively termed,
should be desirous to make an experiment on a subject purely English.
It was his purpose, at the same time, to have rendered the experiment
as complete as possible, by bringing the intended work before the
public as the effort of a new candidate for their favour, in order that
no degree of prejudice, whether favourable or the reverse, might attach
to it, as a new production of the Author of Waverley; but this
intention was afterwards departed from, for reasons to be hereafter
mentioned.
The period of the narrative adopted was the reign of Richard I., not
only as abounding with characters whose very names were sure to attract
general attention, but as affording a striking contrast betwixt the
Saxons, by whom the soil was cultivated, and the Normans, who still
reigned in it as conquerors, reluctant to mix with the vanquished, or
acknowledge themselves of the same stock. The idea of this contrast was
taken from the ingenious and unfortunate Logan’s tragedy of Runnamede,
in which, about the same period of history, the author had seen the
Saxon and Norman barons opposed to each other on different sides of the
stage. He does not recollect that there was any attempt to contrast the
two races in their habits and sentiments; and indeed it was obvious,
that history was violated by introducing the Saxons still existing as a
high-minded and martial race of nobles.
They did, however, survive as a people, and some of the ancient Saxon
families possessed wealth and power, although they were exceptions to
the humble condition of the race in general. It seemed to the author,
that the existence of the two races in the same country, the vanquished
distinguished by their plain, homely, blunt manners, and the free
spirit infused by their ancient institutions and laws; the victors, by
the high spirit of military fame, personal adventure, and whatever
could distinguish them as the Flower of Chivalry, might, intermixed
with other characters belonging to the same time and country, interest
the reader by the contrast, if the author should not fail on his part.
Scotland, however, had been of late used so exclusively as the scene of
what is called Historical Romance, that the preliminary letter of Mr
Laurence Templeton became in some measure necessary. To this, as to an
Introduction, the reader is referred, as expressing the author’s
purpose and opinions in undertaking this species of composition, under
the necessary reservation, that he is far from thinking he has attained
the point at which he aimed.
It is scarcely necessary to add, that there was no idea or wish to pass
off the supposed Mr Templeton as a real person. But a kind of
continuation of the Tales of my Landlord had been recently attempted by
a stranger, and it was supposed this Dedicatory Epistle might pass for
some imitation of the same kind, and thus putting enquirers upon a
false scent, induce them to believe they had before them the work of
some new candidate for their favour.
After a considerable part of the work had been finished and printed,
the Publishers, who pretended to discern in it a germ of popularity,
remonstrated strenuously against its appearing as an absolutely
anonymous production, and contended that it should have the advantage
of being announced as by the Author of Waverley. The author did not
make any obstinate opposition, for he began to be of opinion with Dr
Wheeler, in Miss Edgeworth’s excellent tale of “Maneuvering,” that
“Trick upon Trick” might be too much for the patience of an indulgent
public, and might be reasonably considered as trifling with their
favour.
The book, therefore, appeared as an avowed continuation of the Waverley
Novels; and it would be ungrateful not to acknowledge, that it met with
the same favourable reception as its predecessors.
Such annotations as may be useful to assist the reader in comprehending
the characters of the Jew, the Templar, the Captain of the mercenaries,
or Free Companions, as they were called, and others proper to the
period, are added, but with a sparing hand, since sufficient
information on these subjects is to be found in general history.
An incident in the tale, which had the good fortune to find favour in
the eyes of many readers, is more directly borrowed from the stores of
old romance. I mean the meeting of the King with Friar Tuck at the cell
of that buxom hermit. The general tone of the story belongs to all
ranks and all countries, which emulate each other in describing the
rambles of a disguised sovereign, who, going in search of information
or amusement, into the lower ranks of life, meets with adventures
diverting to the reader or hearer, from the contrast betwixt the
monarch’s outward appearance, and his real character. The Eastern
tale-teller has for his theme the disguised expeditions of Haroun
Alraschid with his faithful attendants, Mesrour and Giafar, through the
midnight streets of Bagdad; and Scottish tradition dwells upon the
similar exploits of James V., distinguished during such excursions by
the travelling name of the Goodman of Ballengeigh, as the Commander of
the Faithful, when he desired to be incognito, was known by that of Il
Bondocani. The French minstrels are not silent on so popular a theme.
There must have been a Norman original of the Scottish metrical romance
of Rauf Colziar, in which Charlemagne is introduced as the unknown
guest of a charcoal-man. 2
It seems to have been the original of other poems of the kind.
In merry England there is no end of popular ballads on this theme. The
poem of John the Reeve, or Steward, mentioned by Bishop Percy, in the
Reliques of English Poetry, 3 is said to have turned on such an
incident; and we have besides, the King and the Tanner of Tamworth, the
King and the Miller of Mansfield, and others on the same topic. But the
peculiar tale of this nature to which the author of Ivanhoe has to
acknowledge an obligation, is more ancient by two centuries than any of