A most sensible grievance of those aggrieved times were the
Forest Laws. These oppressive enactments were the produce of
the Norman Conquest, for the Saxon laws of the chase were
mild and humane; while those of William, enthusiastically attached
to the exercise and its rights, were to the last degree
tyrannical. The formation of the New Forest, bears evidence
to his passion for hunting, where he reduced many a happy village
to the condition of that one commemorated by my friend,
Mr William Stewart Rose:
``Amongst the ruins of the church
The midnight raven found a perch,
A melancholy place;
The ruthless Conqueror cast down,
Woe worth the deed, that little town,
To lengthen out his chase.''
The disabling dogs, which might be necessary for keeping
flocks and herds, from running at the deer, was called _lawing_,
and was in general use. The Charter of the Forest designed to
lessen those evils, declares that inquisition, or view, for lawing
dogs, shall be made every third year, and shall be then done by
the view and testimony of lawful men, not otherwise; and they
whose dogs shall be then found unlawed, shall give three shillings
for mercy, and for the future no man's ox shall be taken
for lawing. Such lawing also shall be done by the assize commonly
used, and which is, that three claws shall be cut off without
the ball of the right foot. See on this subject the Historical
Essay on the Magna Charta of King John, (a most beautiful
volume), by Richard Thomson.
The severe accuracy of some critics has objected to the complexion
of the slaves of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as being totally
out of costume and propriety. I remember the same objection
being made to a set of sable functionaries, whom my friend, Mat
Lewis, introduced as the guards and mischief-doing satellites of
the wicked Baron, in his Castle Spectre. Mat treated the objection
with great contempt, and averred in reply, that he made
the slaves black in order to obtain a striking effect of contrast,
and that, could he have derived a similar advantage from making
his heroine blue, blue she should have been.
I do not pretend to plead the immunities of my order so highly
as this; but neither will I allow that the author of a modern
antique romance is obliged to confine himself to the introduction
of those manners only which can be proved to have absolutely existed
in the times he is depicting, so that he restrain himself to
such as are plausible and natural, and contain no obvious anachronism.
In this point of view, what can be more natural, than
that the Templars, who, we know, copied closely the luxuries of
the Asiatic warriors with whom they fought, should use the
service of the enslaved Africans, whom the fate of war transferred
to new masters? I am sure, if there are no precise proofs
of their having done so, there is nothing, on the other hand,
that can entitle us positively to conclude that they never did.
Besides, there is an instance in romance.
John of Rampayne, an excellent juggler and minstrel, undertook
to effect the escape of one Audulf de Bracy, by presenting
himself in disguise at the court of the king, where he was confined.
For this purpose, ``he stained his hair and his whole
body entirely as black as jet, so that nothing was white but his
teeth,'' and succeeded in imposing himself on the king, as an
Ethiopian minstrel. He effected, by stratagem, the escape of
the prisoner. Negroes, therefore, must have been known in
England in the dark ages.*
The realm of France, it is well known, was divided betwixt
the Norman and Teutonic race, who spoke the language in
which the word Yes is pronounced as _oui_, and the inhabitants
of the southern regions, whose speech bearing some affinity to
the Italian, pronounced the same word _oc_. The poets of the former
race were called _Minstrels_, and their poems _Lays_: those of
the latter were termed _Troubadours_, and their compositions
called _sirventes_, and other names. Richard, a professed admirer
of the joyous science in all its branches, could imitate either
the minstrel or troubadour. It is less likely that he should have
been able to compose or sing an English ballad; yet so much do
we wish to assimilate Him of the Lion Heart to the band of
warriors whom he led, that the anachronism, if there be one
may readily be forgiven.
A great topographical blunder occurred here in former editions.
The bloody battle alluded to in the text, fought and won
by King Harold, over his brother the rebellious Tosti, and an
auxiliary force of Danes or Norsemen, was said, in the text, and
a corresponding note, to have taken place at Stamford, in Leicestershire,
and upon the river Welland. This is a mistake, into
which the author has been led by trusting to his memory,
and so confounding two places of the same name. The Stamford,
Strangford, or Staneford, at which the battle really was
fought, is a ford upon the river Derwent, at the distance of
about seven miles from York, and situated in that large and
opulent county. A long wooden bridge over the Derwent, the
site of which, with one remaining buttress, is still shown to the
curious traveller, was furiously contested. One Norwegian
long defended it by his single arm, and was at length pierced
with a spear thrust through the planks of the bridge from a boat
beneath.
The neighbourhood of Stamford, on the Derwent, contains
some memorials of the battle. Horseshoes, swords, and the
heads of halberds, or bills, are often found there ; one place is
called the ``Danes' well,'' another the ``Battle flats.'' From a
tradition that the weapon with which the Norwegian champion
was slain, resembled a pear, or, as others say, that the
trough or boat in which the soldier floated under the bridge to
strike the blow, had such a shape, the country people usually
begin a great market, which is held at Stamford, with an
entertainment called the Pear-pie feast, which after all may be
a corruption of the Spear-pie feast. For more particulars,
Drake's History of York may be referred to. The author's mistake
was pointed out to him, in the most obliging manner, by
Robert Belt, Esq. of Bossal House. The battle was fought in
1066.
This horrid species of torture may remind the reader of that
to which the Spaniards subjected Guatimozin, in order to extort
a discovery of his concealed wealth. But, in fact, an instance
of similar barbarity is to be found nearer home, and occurs
in the annals of Queen Mary's time, containing so many
other examples of atrocity. Every reader must recollect, that
after the fall of the Catholic Church, and the Presbyterian
Church Government had been established by law, the rank, and
especially the wealth, of the Bishops, Abbots, Priors, and so
forth, were no longer vested in ecclesiastics, but in lay impropriators
of the church revenues, or, as the Scottish lawyers called
them, titulars of the temporalities of the benefice, though
having no claim to the spiritual character of their predecessors
in office.
Of these laymen, who were thus invested with ecclesiastical
revenues, some were men of high birth and rank, like the famous
Lord James Stewart, the Prior of St Andrews, who did
not fail to keep for their own use the rents, lands, and revenues
of the church. But if, on the other hand, the titulars were men
of inferior importance, who had been inducted into the office
by the interest of some powerful person, it was generally understood
that the new Abbot should grant for his patron's benefit
such leases and conveyances of the church lands and tithes as
might afford their protector the lion's share of the booty. This
was the origin of those who were wittily termed Tulchan*
There were other cases, however, in which men who had got
grants of these secularised benefices, were desirous of retaining
them for their own use, without having the influence sufficient
to establish their purpose ; and these became frequently unable
to protect themselves, however unwilling to submit to the exactions
of the feudal tyrant of the district.
Bannatyne, secretary to John Knox, recounts a singular
course of oppression practised on one of those titulars abbots, by
the Earl of Cassilis in Ayrshire, whose extent of feudal influence
was so wide that he was usually termed the King of Carrick.
We give the fact as it occurs in Bannatyne's Journal, only premising
that the Journalist held his master's opinions, both with
respect to the Earl of Cassilis as an opposer of the king's party,
and as being a detester of the practice of granting church revenues
to titulars, instead of their being devoted to pious uses,
such as the support of the clergy, expense of schools, and the relief
of the national poor. He mingles in the narrative, therefore,
a well deserved feeling of execration against the tyrant who employed
the torture, which a tone of ridicule towards the patient,
as if, after all, it had not been ill bestowed on such an equivocal
and amphibious character as a titular abbot. He entitles his
narrative,
``Master Allan Stewart, friend to Captain James Stewart of
Cardonall, by means of the Queen's corrupted court, obtained
the Abbey of Crossraguel. The said Earl thinking himself
greater than any king in those quarters, determined to have that
whole benefice (as he hath divers others) to pay at his pleasure ;
and because he could not find sic security as his insatiable appetite
required, this shift was devised. The said Mr Allan being
in company with the Laird of Bargany, (also a Kennedy,) was,
by the Earl and his friends, enticed to leave the safeguard which
he had with the Laird, and come to make good cheer with the
said Earl. The simplicity of the imprudent man was suddenly
abused; and so he passed his time with them certain days, which
he did in Maybole with Thomas Kennedie, uncle to the said Earl:
after which the said Mr Allan passed, with quiet company, to
visit the place and bounds of Crossraguel, [his abbacy,] of which
the said Earl being surely advertised, determined to put in practice
the tyranny which long before he had conceaved. And so,
as king of the country, apprehended the said Mr Allan, and
carried him to the house of Denure, where for a season he was
honourably treated, (gif a prisoner can think any entertainment
pleasing;) but after that certain days were spent, and that the
Earl could not obtain the feus of Crossraguel according to his
awin appetite, he determined to prove gif a collation could work
that which neither dinner nor supper could do for a long time.
And so tho said Mr Allan was carried to a secret chamber:
with him passed the honourable Earl, his worshipful brother,
and such as were appointed to be servants at that banquet. In
the chamber there was a grit iron chimlay, under it a fire;
other grit provision was not seen. The first course was,---`My
Lord Abbot,' (said the Earl,) `it will please you confess here,
that with your own consent you remain in my company, because
ye durst not commit yourself to the hands of others.' The
Abbot answered, `Would you, my lord, that I should make a
manifest lie for your pleasure ? The truth is, my lord, it is against
my will that I am here; neither yet have I any pleasure in your
company.' `But ye shall remain with me, nevertheless, at this
time,' said the Earl. `l am not able to resist your will and pleasure,'
said the Abbot, 'in this place.' `Ye must then obey me,'
said the Earl,---and with that were presented unto him certain
letters to subscribe, amongst which there was a five years' tack,
and a nineteen years' tack, and a charter of feu of all the lands
(of Crossraguel, with all the clauses necessary for the Earl to
haste him to hell. For gif adultery, sacrilege, oppression, barbarous
cruelty, and theft heaped upon theft, deserve hell, the
great King of Carrick can no more escape hell for ever, than
the imprudent Abbot escaped the fire for a season as follows.
``After that the Earl spied repugnance, and saw that he could
not come to his purpose by fair means, he commanded his cooks
to prepare the banquet: and so first they flayed the sheep, that
is, they took off the Abbot's cloathes even to his skin, and next
they bound him to the chimney---his legs to the one end, and his
arms to the other; and so they began to beet [_i.e._ feed] the fire
sometimes to his buttocks, sometimes to his legs, sometimes to
his shoulders and arms; and that the roast might not burn, but
that it might rest in soppe, they spared not flambing with oil,
(basting as a cook bastes roasted meat); Lord, look thou to sic
cruelty! And that the crying of the miserable man should not
be heard, they dosed his mouth that the voice might be stopped.
It may be suspected that some partisan of the King's [Darnley's]
murder was there. In that torment they held the poor man,
till that often he cried for God's sake to dispatch him; for
he had as meikle gold in his awin purse as would buy powder
enough to shorten his pain. The famous King of Carrick and
his cooks perceiving the roast to be aneuch, commanded it to be
tane fra the fire, and the Earl himself began the grace in this
manner:---`_Benedicite, Jesus Maria_, you are the most obstinate
man that ever I saw; gif I had known that ye had been
so stubborn, I would not for a thousand crowns have handled
you so; I never did so to man before you.' And yet he returned
to the same practice within two days, and ceased not till
that he obtained his formost purpose, that is, that he had got
all his pieces subscryvit alsweill as ane half-roasted hand could
do it. The Earl thinking himself sure enough so long as be
had the half-roasted Abbot in his awin keeping, and yet being
ashamed of his presence by reason of his former cruelty, left the
place of Denure in the hands of certain of his servants, and the
half-roasted Abbot to be kept there as prisoner. The Laird of
Bargany, out of whose company the said Abbot had been enticed,
understanding, (not the extremity,) but the retaining of the
man, sent to the court, and raised letters of deliverance of the
person of the man according to the order, which being disobeyed,
the said Earl for his contempt was denounced rebel, and
put to the horne. But yet hope was there none, neither to the
afflicted to be delivered, neither yet to the purchaser [_i.e._ procurer]
of the letters to obtain any comfort thereby ; for in that
time God was despised, and the lawful authority was contemned
in Scotland, in hope of the sudden return and regiment of that
cruel murderer of her awin husband, of whose lords the said
Earl was called one; and yet, oftener than once, he was solemnly
sworn to the King and to his Regent.''
The Journalist then recites the complaint of the injured
Allan Stewart, Commendator of Crossraguel, to the Regent
and Privy Council, averring his having been carried, partly by
flattery, partly by force, to the black vault of Denure, a strong
fortalice, built on a rock overhanging the Irish channel, where
to execute leases and conveyances of the whole churches and
parsonages belonging to the Abbey of Crossraguel, which he
utterly refused as an unreasonable demand, and the more so
that he had already conveyed them to John Stewart of Cardonah,
by whose interest he had been made Commendator. The
complainant proceeds to state, that he was, after many menaces,
stript, bound, and his limbs exposed to fire in the manner already
described, till, compelled by excess of agony, he subscribed the
charter and leases presented to him, of the contents of which he
was totally ignorant. A few days afterwards, being again required
to execute a ratification of these deeds before a notary and
witnesses, and refusing to do so, he was once more subjected to
the same torture, until his agony was so excessive that he exclaimed,
``Fye on you, why do you not strike your whingers into
me, or blow me up with a barrel of powder, rather than torture
me thus unmercifully?'' upon which the Earl commanded
Alexander Richard, one of his attendants, to stop the patient's
mouth with a napkin, which was done accordingly. Thus he
was once more compelled to submit to their tyranny. The petition
concluded with stating, that the Earl, under pretence of
the deeds thus iniquitously obtained, had taken possession of
the whole place and living of Crossraguel, and enjoyed the profits
thereof for three years.
The doom of the Regent and Council shows singularly the
total interruption of justice at this calamitous period, even in the
most clamant cases of oppression. The Council declined interference
with the course of the ordinary justice of the county,
(which was completely under the said Earl of Cassilis' control,)
and only enacted, that he should forbear molestation of
the unfortunate Comendator, under the surety of two thousand
pounds Scots. The Earl was appointed also to keep the
peace towards the celebrated George Buchanan, who had a pension
out of the same Abbacy, to a similar extent, and under the
like penalty.
``The said Laird of Bargany perceiving that the ordiner
justice could neither help the oppressed, nor yet the afflicted,
applied his mind to the next remedy, and in the end, by his servants,
took the house of Denure, where the poor Abbot was
kept prisoner. The bruit flew fra Carrick to Galloway, and so
suddenly assembled herd and hyre-man that pertained to the
band of the Kennedies; and so within a few hours was the house
of Denure environed again. The master of Cassilis was the
frackast [_i.e._ the readiest or boldest) and would not stay, but
in his heat would lay fire to the dungeon, with no small boasting
that all enemies within the house should die.
``He was required and admonished by those that were within
to be more moderate, and not to hazard himself so foolishly. But
no admonition would help, till that the wind of an hacquebute
blasted his shoulder, and then ceased he from further pursuit
in fury. The Laird of Bargany had before purchest [obtained]
of the authorities, letters, charging all faithfull subjects to the
King's Majesty, to assist him against that cruel tyrant and
mansworn traitor, the Earl of Cassilis; which letters, with his
private writings, he published, and shortly found sic concurrence
of Kyle and Cunyngbame with his other friends, that
the Carrick company drew back fra the house: and so the other
approached, furnished the house with more men, delivered the
said Mr Allan, and carried him to Ayr, where, publicly at the
market cross of the said town, he declared how cruelly he was
entreated, and how the murdered King suffered not sic torment
as he did, excepting only he escaped the death: and, therefore,
publickly did revoke all things that were done in that extremity,
and especially he revoked the subscription of the three writings,
to wit, of a fyve yeir tack and nineteen year tack, and of a
charter of feu. And so the house remained, and remains (till
this day, the 7th of February, 1571,) in the custody of the said
Laird of Bargany and of his servants. And so cruelty was disappointed
of proffeit present, and shall be eternallie punished, unless
he earnestly repent. And this far for the cruelty committed,
to give occasion unto others, and to such as hate the monstrous
dealing of degenerate nobility, to look more diligently upon their
behaviuours, and to paint them forth unto the world, that they
themselves may be ashamed of their own beastliness, and that
the world may be advertised and admonished to abhor, detest,
and avoid the company of all sic tyrants, who are not worthy of
the society of men, but ought to be sent suddenly to the devil,
with whom they must burn without end, for their contempt of
God, and cruelty committed against his creatures. Let Cassilis
and his brother be the first to be the example unto others.
Amen. Amen.''*
The ultimate issue of this affair does not appear; but as the
house of Cassilis are still in possession of the greater part of the
feus and leases which belonged to Crossraguel Abbey, it is
probable the talons of the King of Carrick were strong enough,
in those disorderly times, to retain the prey which they had so
mercilessly fixed upon.
I may also add, that it appears by some papers in my possession,
that the officers or Country Keepers on the border, were
accustomed to torment their prisoners by binding them to the
iron bars of their chimneys, to extort confession.
It will readily occur to the antiquary, that these verses are
intended to imitate the antique poetry of the Scalds---the minstrels
of the old Scandinavians---the race, as the Laureate so happily
terms them,
The poetry of the Anglo-Saxons, after their civilisation and
conversion, was of a different and softer character; but in the
circumstances of Ulrica, she may be not unnaturally supposed
to return to the wild strains which animated her forefathers
during the time of Paganism and untamed ferocity.
ur-de-Lion.
The interchange of a cuff with the jolly priest is not entirely
out of character with Richard I., if romances read him aright.
In the very curious romance on the subject of his adventures
in the Holy Land, and his return from thence, it is recorded
how he exchanged a pugilistic favour of this nature, while a
prisoner in Germany. His opponent was the son of his principal
warder, and was so imprudent as to give the challenge to
this barter of buffets. The King stood forth like a true man,
and received a blow which staggered him. In requital, having
previously waxed his hand, a practice unknown, I believe, to
the gentlemen of the modern fancy, he returned the box on the
ear with such interest as to kill his antagonist on the spot.---_See,
in Ellis's Specimens of English Romance, that of Cur-de-Lion_.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XXXIII
Note H.---Hedge-Priests.
It is curious to observe, that in every state of society, some
sort of ghostly consolation is provided for the members of the
community, though assembled for purposes diametrically opposite
to religion. A gang of beggars have their Patrico, and
the banditti of the Apennines have among them persons acting
as monks and priests, by whom they are confessed, and who
perform mass before them. Unquestionably, such reverend
persons, in such a society, must accommodate their manners
and their morals to the community in which they live; and if
they can occasionally obtain a degree of reverence for their supposed
spiritual gifts, are, on most occasions, loaded with unmerciful
ridicule, as possessing a character inconsistent with all
around them.
Hence the fighting parson in the old play of Sir John Oldcastle,
and the famous friar of Robin Hood's band. Nor were
such characters ideal. There exists a monition of the Bishop
of Durham against irregular churchmen of this class, who associated
themselves with Border robbers, and desecrated the
holiest offices of the priestly function, by celebrating them for
the benefit of thieves, robbers, and murderers, amongst ruins
and in caverns of the earth, without regard to canonical form,
and with torn and dirty attire, and maimed rites, altogether
improper for the occasion.
NOTE TO CHAPTER XLI.
Note I.---Castle of Coningsburgh.
When I last saw this interesting ruin of ancient days, one
of the very few remaining examples of Saxon fortification, I
was strongly impressed with the desire of tracing out a sort of
theory on the subject, which, from some recent acquaintance
with the architecture of the ancient Scandinavians, seemed to
me peculiarly interesting. I was, however, obliged by circumstances
to proceed on my journey, without leisure to take more
than a transient view of Coningsburgh. Yet the idea dwells so
strongly in my mind, that I feel considerably tempted to write
a page or two in detailing at least the outline of my hypothesis,
leaving better antiquaries to correct or refute conclusions
which are perhaps too hastily drawn.
Those who have visited the Zetland Islands, are familiar with
the description of castles called by the inhabitants Burghs; and by
the Highlanders---for they are also to be found both in the Western
Isles and on the mainland---Duns. Pennant has engraved
a view of the famous Dun-Dornadilla in Glenelg; and there are
many others, all of them built after a peculiar mode of architecture,
which argues a people in the most primitive state of society.
The most perfect specimen is that upon the island of Mousa,
near to the mainland of Zetland, which is probably in the
same state as when inhabited.
It is a single round tower, the wall curving in slightly, and
then turning outward again in the form of a dice-box, so that
the defenders on the top might the better protect the base.
It is formed of rough stones, selected with care, and laid in
courses or circles, with much compactness, but without cement
of any kind. The tower has never, to appearance, had roofing
of any sort; a fire was made in the centre of the space which
it encloses, and originally the building was probably little more
than a wall drawn as a sort of screen around the great council
fire of the tribe. But, although the means or ingenuity of
the builders did not extend so far as to provide a roof, they supplied
the want by constructing apartments in the interior of
the walls of the tower itself. The circumvallation formed a
double enclosure, the inner side of which was, in fact, two feet
or three feet distant from the other, and connected by a concentric
range of long flat stones, thus forming a series of concentric
rings or stories of various heights, rising to the top of the tower.
Each of these stories or galleries has four windows, facing
directly to the points of the compass, and rising of course regularly
above each other. These four perpendicular ranges of windows
admitted air, and, the fire being kindled, heat, or smoke at
least, to each of the galleries. The access from gallery to gallery
is equally primitive. A path, on the principle of an inclined
plane, turns round and round the building like a screw, and gives
access to the different stories, intersecting each of them in its
turn, and thus gradually rising to the top of the wall of the
tower. On the outside there are no windows ; and I may add,
that an enclosure of a square, or sometimes a round form, gave
the inhabitants of the Burgh an opportunity to secure any
sheep or cattle which they might possess.
Such is the general architecture of that very early period
when the Northmen swept the seas, and brought to their
rude houses, such as I have described them, the plunder of
polished nations. In Zetland there are several scores of these
Burghs, occupying in every case, capes, headlands, islets, and similar
places of advantage singularly well chosen. I remember
the remains of one upon an island in a small lake near Lerwick,
which at high tide communicates with the sea, the access to
which is very ingenious, by means of a causeway or dike,
about three or four inches under the surface of the water. This
causeway makes a sharp angle in its approach to the Burgh.
The inhabitants, doubtless, were well acquainted with this, but
strangers, who might approach in a hostile manner, and were
ignorant of the curve of the causeway, would probably plunge
into the lake, which is six or seven feet in depth at the least.
This must have been the device of some Vauban or Cohorn of
those early times.
The style of these buildings evinces that the architect possessed
neither the art of using lime or cement of any kind, nor
the skill to throw an arch, construct a roof, or erect a stair ;
and yet, with all this ignorance, showed great ingenuity in selecting
the situation of Burghs, and regulating the access to
them, as well as neatness and regularity in the erection, since
the buildings themselves show a style of advance in the arts
scarcely consistent with the ignorance of so many of the principal
branches of architectural knowledge.
I have always thought, that one of the most curious and valuable
objects of antiquaries has been to trace the progress of
society, by the efforts made in early ages to improve the rudeness
of their first expedients, until they either approach excellence,
or, as is more frequently the case, are supplied by new and
fundamental discoveries, which supersede both the earlier and
ruder system, and the improvements which have been ingrafted
upon it. For example, if we conceive the recent discovery
of gas to be so much improved and adapted to domestic use, as
to supersede all other modes of producing domestic light; we
can already suppose, some centuries afterwards, the heads of a
whole Society of Antiquaries half turned by the discovery of a
pair of patent snuffers, and by the learned theories which would
be brought forward to account for the form and purpose of so
singular an implement.
Following some such principle, I am inclined to regard the
singular Castle of Coningsburgh---I mean the Saxon part of it---
as a step in advance from the rude architecture, if it deserves
the name, which must have been common to the Saxons as to
other Northmen. The builders had attained the art of using
cement, and of roofing a building,---great improvements on the
original Burgh. But in the round keep, a shape only seen in
the most ancient castles---the chambers excavated in the thickness
of the walls and buttresses---the difficulty by which access
is gained from one story to those above it, Coningsburgh still
retains the simplicity of its origin, and shows by what slow
degrees man proceeded from occupying such rude and inconvenient
lodgings, as were afforded by the galleries of the Castle
of Mousa, to the more splendid accommodations of the Norman
castles, with all their stern and Gothic graces.
I am ignorant if these remarks are new, or if they will be
confirmed by closer examination ; but I think, that, on a hasty
observation, Coningsburgh offers means of curious study to
those who may wish to trace the history of architecture back
to the times preceding the Norman Conquest.
It would be highly desirable that a cork model should be
taken of the Castle of Mousa, as it cannot be well understood by
a plan.
The Castle of Coningsburgh is thus described:---
``The castle is large, the outer walls standing on a pleasant
ascent from the river, but much overtopt by a high hill, on
which the town stands, situated at the head of a rich and magnificent
vale, formed by an amphitheatre of woody hills, in
which flows the gentle Don. Near the castle is a barrow, said
to be Hengist's tomb. The entrance is flanked to the left by a
round tower, with a sloping base, and there are several similar
in the outer wall the entrance has piers of a gate, and on the
east side the ditch and bank are double and very steep. On the
top of the churchyard wall is a tombstone, on which are cut in
high relief, two ravens, or such-like birds. On the south side of
the churchyard lies an ancient stone, ridged like a coffin, on
which is carved a man on horseback; and another man with a
shield encountering a vast winged serpent, and a man bearing a
shield behind him. It was probably one of the rude crosses not
uncommon in churchyards in this county. See it engraved on
the plate of crosses for this volume, plate 14. fig. 1. The name
of Coningsburgh, by which this castle goes in the old editions
of the Britannia, would lead one to suppose it the residence of
the Saxon kings. It afterwards belonged to King Harold. The
Conqueror bestowed it on William de Warren, with all its privileges
and jurisdiction, which are said to have extended over twenty-eight
towns. At the corner of the area, which is of an irregular
form, stands the great tower, or keep, placed on a small
hill of its own dimensions, on which lies six vast projecting buttresses,
ascending in a steep direction to prop and support the
building, and continued upwards up the side as turrets. The
tower within forms a complete circle, twenty-one feet in diameter,
the walls fourteen feet thick. The ascent into the tower
is by an exceeding deep flight of steep steps, four feet and a half
wide, on the south side leading to a low doorway, over which is
a circular arch crossed by a great transom stone. Within this
door is the staircase which ascends straight through the thickness
of the wall, not communicating with the room on the first
floor, in whose centre is the opening to the dungeon. Neither
of these lower rooms is lighted except from a hole in the floor of
the third story; the room in which, as well as in that above it,
is finished with compact smooth stonework, both having chimney-pieces,
with an arch resting on triple clustered pillars. In
the third story, or guard-chamber, is a small recess with a loop-hole,
probably a bedchamber, and in that floor above a niche for
a saint or holy-water pot. Mr King imagines this a Saxon
castle of the first ages of the Heptarchy. Mr Watson thus
describes it. From the first floor to the second story, (third
from the ground,) is a way by a stair in the wall five feet wide.
The next staircase is approached by a ladder, and ends at the
fourth story from the ground. Two yards from the door, at
the head of this stair, is an opening nearly east, accessible by
treading on the ledge of the wall, which diminishes eight inches
each story ; and this last opening leads into a room or chapel
ten feet by twelve, and fifteen or sixteen high, arched with free-stone,
and supported by small circular columns of the same, the
capitals and arches Saxon. It has an east window, and on each
side in the wall, about four feet from the ground, a stone basin
with a hole and iron pipe to convey the water into or through
the wall. This chapel is one of the buttresses, but no sign of it
without, for even the window, though large within, is only a
long narrow loop-hole, scarcely to be seen without. On the left
side of this chapel is a small oratory, eight by six in the thickness
of the wall, with a niche in the wall, and enlightened by a
like loop-hole. The fourth stair from the ground, ten feet west
from the chapel door, leads to the top of the tower through the
thickness of the wall, which at top is but three yards. Each
story is about fifteen feet high, so that the tower will be seventy-five
feet from the ground. The inside forms a circle, whose
diameter may be about twelve feet. The well at the bottom of
the dungeon is piled with stones.''---Gough's _Edition Of Camden's
Britannia_. Second Edition, vol. iii. p. 267.
Walter Scott: Ivanhoe
===============================
a machine-readable transcription
version 1.0: 1993-06-08
1.1: 1994-02-09 48 errors fixed, most of which were
reported by:
Michael Larsen (larsen@math.upenn.edu)
Michael Hart (HART@vmd.cso.uiuc.edu)
This machine-readable transcription of Ivanhoe is based on
the text printed as volumes 16 and 17 of the Waverley Novels
published by Archibald Constable and Company in 1895.
The order of the files in this distribution is as follows:
introduction
dedicatory.epistle
chapter.01-09
chapter.10-19
chapter.20-29
chapter.30-39
chapter.40-44
notes
Changes to the text
===================
Page-breaks have been removed, along with page numbers and
column titles.
End-of-line hyphenations have been removed, and the
de-hyphenated word has been brought up to the first of the
two lines. The text itself has been the main guide for
keeping or removing hyphens; in some cases the Centenary
Edition of the Waverley Novels has been consulted.
Small capitals in names have been replaced by lower-case
letters. In those cases small caps are used to denote extra
emphasis, they have been marked up accordingly.
Text in (? blackletter) used mainly for song titles has
been changed to ordinary text, except in one case -- see
markup conventions below.
In the text, endnotes appeared immediately after each
chapter. In this edition, all endnotes have been collected
and placed at the end of the 'book'. Also, the pages
references of the notes have been replaced by letter
references, after the same pattern used in the Centenary
Edition.
The following changes have been made to the text:
dedicatory epistle:
p. xliii (footnote): it was written. I mention (missing period)
ch. 2, p. 20: an || athletic figure (althetic)
ch. 6, p. 82: the approaching tourney (tournay)
ch. 10, p. 159: there is a dead loss too (to)
ch. 14, p. 215: House of Anjou (Anjo)
ch. 18, p. 265: John of Anjou (Anjo)
ch. 20, p. 292: hermit,'' replied the knight ('' missing)
ch. 20, p. 295: called Cedric the Saxon (Cedric and Saxon)
ch. 21, p. 301: ``That concerns thee (`That)
ch. 21, p. 325: ``Thy daughter!'' (`Thy)
(add 23 to get 'real' chapter numbers)
ch. 2, p. 33: their || own.'' (own,'')
ch. 3, p. 64: Athelstane: ``deal with (missing ``)
ch. 3, p. ???: of Anjou confer not (Anjo)
ch. 8, p. 127: my own Trysting-tree (trysting-tree)
ch. 8, p. 138: he of the Fetterlock (fetterlock)
ch. 8, p. 144: had not gotten to horse (gotton)
ch. 10, p. 172: Allan-a-Dale (dale)
ch. 11, p. 200: must be met withal.'' (missing '')
ch. 15, p. 266: doth deny || the same; (den-)
ch. 16, p. 280: to the ocean. The (oceean, The)
ch. 17, p. 301: jaws of the brethren (brethern)
ch. 17, p. 301: toothache (toothach)
ch. 18, p. 338 (notes): irre-||gular form, stands (form. stands)
ch. 20, p. 364: Ashby-de-la-Zouche.'' (de-la-Zouch.'')
ch. 20, p. 367: Brian de Bois-Guilbert (Brian-de-Bois-Guilbert)
ch. 20, p. 373: had ap-||peared to do. (do.'')
Further oddities
================
The word Anjou was spelled Anjo in three places. Could
the Anjou spelling be a editorial change that wasn't present
in the original text?
In the dedicatory epistle, Scott writes:
My honest and neglected friend, Ingulphus, has furnished
me with many a valuable hint;
There is no obvious indication to what or who Ingulphus
refers to. There is, though, a mention of a purported work
by Dr Dryasdust about King Ulphus earlier in the epistle. I
suspect that Ingulphus is a misprint for King Ulphus.
However, the same error (if it indeed is one) occurs in the
Centenary Edition, so I have not made any attempts at
correction.
Markup conventions
==================
First line in each paragraph is indented two spaces.
_ _ placed around italicized text
= = placed around extra emphasized text - small caps in
the text
{ } placed around `The Wardour Manuscript', which
according to the text should be in `some emphatic
mode of printing'.
the ae ligature
a circumflex
e circumflex
e acute
the oe ligature
<*> asterisk used to indicate a major ellipsis in the text.
Don't confuse this with the footnote mark
Footnotes
Footnotes in the text were placed at the foot of the page;
in this edition they have been placed immediately after the
line in which they are referenced. The footnote callout is
always an asterisk,* and the text of the footnote has been
* Like this
placed, slightly indented, between two empty lines, with an
asterisk in the left margin as illustrated above. If the
footnote comes at the end of a paragraph, the first line of
the following paragraph is indented two spaces, as usual.
In chapter 29 an additional note to a footnote was placed at
the end of the chapter. This note-note has been kept where
it occurred, but the reference to the original page has been
replaced by **. (In the centenary edition both the note-
note and the note to which it refers were placed as
end-notes.)
The transcription and proofreading was done by Anders
Thulin, Rydsvagen 288, S-582 50 Linkoping, Sweden. Email
address: ath@linkoping.trab.se
I'd be glad to learn of any errors that you may find in
the text.
IVANHOE;
A ROMANCE.
Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart,
And often took leave,----but seemed loath to depart!*
* The motto alludes to the Author returning to the stage repeatedly
* after having taken leave.
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 Gt 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
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 ``Manuvring,'' 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.*
* This very curious poem, long a _desideratum_ in Scottish literature,
* and given up as irrecoverably lost, was lately brought
* to light by the researches of Dr Irvine of the Advocates' Library,
* and has been reprinted by Mr David Laing, Edinburgh.
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,* is
* Vol. ii. p. 167.
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
these last mentioned.
It was first communicated to the public in
that curious record of ancient literature, which
has been accumulated by the combined exertions
of Sir Egerton Brydges. and Mr Hazlewood,
in the periodical work entitled the British
Bibliographer. From thence it has been
transferred by the Reverend Charles Henry
Hartsborne, M.A., editor of a very curious volume,
entitled ``Ancient Metrical Tales, printed
chiefly from original sources, 1829.'' Mr
Hartshorne gives no other authority for the
present fragment, except the article in the
Bibliographer, where it is entitled the Kyng
and the Hermite. A short abstract of its
contents will show its similarity to the meeting
of King Richard and Friar Tuck.
King Edward (we are not told which among
the monarchs of that name, but, from his temper
and habits, we may suppose Edward IV.)
sets forth with his court to a gallant hunting-match
in Sherwood Forest, in which, as is not
unusual for princes in romance, he falls in with
a deer of extraordinary size and swiftness, and
pursues it closely, till he has outstripped his
whole retinue, tired out hounds and horse, and
finds himself alone under the gloom of an extensive
forest, upon which night is descending.
Under the apprehensions natural to a situation
so uncomfortable, the king recollects that he
has heard how poor men, when apprehensive of
a bad nights lodging, pray to Saint Julian, who,
in the Romish calendar, stands Quarter-Master-General
to all forlorn travellers that render
him due homage. Edward puts up his orisons
accordingly, and by the guidance, doubtless, of
the good Saint, reaches a small path, conducting
him to a chapel in the forest, having a hermit's
cell in its close vicinity. The King hears
the reverend man, with a companion of his
solitude, telling his beads within, and meekly
requests of him quarters for the night. ``I
have no accommodation for such a lord as ye
be,'' said the Hermit. ``I live here in the wilderness
upon roots and rinds, and may not receive
into my dwelling even the poorest wretch
that lives, unless it were to save his life.'' The
King enquires the way to the next town, and,
understanding it is by a road which he cannot
find without difficulty, even if he had daylight
to befriend him, he declares, that with or without
the Hermits consent, he is determined to
be his guest that night. He is admitted accordingly,
not without a hint from the Recluse,
that were he himself out of his priestly weeds,
he would care little for his threats of using
violence, and that he gives way to him not out
of intimidation, but simply to avoid scandal.
The King is admitted into the cell---two
bundles of straw are shaken down for his accommodation,
and he comforts himself that he
is now under shelter, and that
``A night will soon be gone.''
Other wants, however, arise. The guest
becomes clamorous for supper, observing,
``For certainly, as I you say,
I ne had never so sorry a day,
That I ne had a merry night.''
But this indication of his taste for good
cheer, joined to the annunciation of his being
a follower of the Court, who had lost himself
at the great hunting-match, cannot induce the
niggard Hermit to produce better fare than
bread and cheese, for which his guest showed
little appetite; and ``thin drink,'' which was
even less acceptable. At length the King
presses his host on a point to which he had
more than once alluded, without obtaining a
satisfactory reply:
``Then said the King, `by Godys grace,
Thou wert in a merry place,
To shoot should thou lere
When the foresters go to rest,
Sometyme thou might have of the best,
All of the wild deer;
I wold hold it for no scathe,
Though thou hadst bow and arrows baith,
Althoff thou best a Frere.' ''
The Hermit, in return, expresses his apprehension
that his guest means to drag him into
some confession of offence against the forest
laws, which, being betrayed to the King, might
cost him his life. Edward answers by fresh
assurances of secrecy, and again urges on him
the necessity of procuring some venison. The
Hermit replies, by once more insisting on the
duties incumbent upon him as a churchman,
and continues to affirm himself free from all
such breaches of order:---
``Many day I have here been,
And flesh-meat I eat never,
But milk of the kye;
Warm thee well, and go to sleep,
And I will lap thee with my cope,
Softly to lye.''
It would seem that the manuscript is here
imperfect, for we do not find the reasons which
finally induce the curtal Friar to amend the
King's cheer. But acknowledging his guest
to be such a ``good fellow'' as has seldom
graced his board, the holy man at length produces
the best his cell affords. Two candles
are placed on a table, white bread and baked
pasties are displayed by the light, besides
choice of venison, both salt and fresh, from
which they select collops. ``I might have eaten
my bread dry,'' said the King, ``had I not
pressed thee on the score of archery, but now
have I dined like a prince---if we had but drink
enow.''
This too is afforded by the hospitable anchorite,
who dispatches an assistant to fetch a pot
of four gallons from a secret corner near his
bed, and the whole three set in to serious drinking.
This amusement is superintended by the
Friar, according to the recurrence of certain
fustian words, to be repeated by every compotator
in turn before he drank---a species of
High Jinks, as it were, by which they regulated
their potations, as toasts were given in
latter times. The one toper says _fusty bandias_,
to which the other is obliged to reply, _strike
pantnere_, and the Friar passes many jests on
the King's want of memory, who sometimes
forgets the words of action. The night is spent
in this jolly pastime. Before his departure
in the morning, the King invites his reverend
host to Court, promises, at least, to requite his
hospitality, and expresses himself much pleased
with his entertainment. The jolly Hermit
at length agrees to venture thither, and to
enquire for Jack Fletcher, which is the name
assumed by the King. After the Hermit has
shown Edward some feats of archery, the joyous
pair separate. The King rides home, and
rejoins his retinue. As the romance is imperfect,
we are not acquainted how the discovery
takes place; but it is probably much
in the same manner as in other narratives
turning on the same subject, where the host,
apprehensive of death for having trespassed
on the respect due to his Sovereign, while incognito,
is agreeably surprised by receiving
honours and reward.
In Mr Hartshorne's collection, there is a
romance on the same foundation, called King
Edward and the Shepherd,* which, considered
* Like the Hermit, the Shepherd makes havock amongst the
* King's game; but by means of a sling, not of a bow; like the
* Hermit, too, he has his peculiar phrases of compotation, the
* sign and countersign being Passelodion and Berafriend. One
* can scarce conceive what humour our ancestors found in this
* species of gibberish; but
* ``I warrant it proved an excuse for the glass.''
as illustrating manners, is still more curious
than the King and the Hermit; but it is foreign
to the present purpose. The reader has here
the original legend from which the incident in
the romance is derived; and the identifying
the irregular Eremite with the Friar Tuck of
Robin Hood's story, was an obvious expedient.
The name of Ivanhoe was suggested by an
old rhyme. All novelists have had occasion
at some time or other to wish with Falstaff, that
they knew where a commodity of good names
was to be had. On such an occasion the
author chanced to call to memory a rhyme
recording three names of the manors forfeited
by the ancestor of the celebrated Hampden,
for striking the Black Prince a blow with his
racket, when they quarrelled at tennis;---
``Tring, Wing, and Ivanhoe,
For striking of a blow,
Hampden did forego,
And glad he could escape so.''
The word suited the author's purpose in two
material respects,---for, first, it had an ancient
English sound; and secondly, it conveyed no
indication whatever of the nature of the story.
He presumes to hold this last quality to be of
no small importance. What is called a taking
title, serves the direct interest of the bookseller
or publisher, who by this means sometimes sells
an edition while it is yet passing the press. But
if the author permits an over degree of attention
to be drawn to his work ere it has appeared,
he places himself in the embarrassing condition
of having excited a degree of expectation
which, if he proves unable to satisfy, is an error
fatal to his literary reputation. Besides, when
we meet such a title as the Gunpowder Plot, or
any other connected with general history, each
reader, before he has seen the book, has formed
to himself some particular idea of the sort of
manner in which the story is to be conducted,
and the nature of the amusement which he is
to derive from it. In this he is probably disappointed,
and in that case may be naturally disposed
to visit upon the author or the work, the
unpleasant feelings thus excited. In such a
case the literary adventurer is censured, not
for having missed the mark at which he himself
aimed, but for not having shot off his shaft
in a direction he never thought of.
On the footing of unreserved communication
which the Author has established with the
reader, he may here add the trifling circumstance,
that a roll of Norman warriors, occurring
in the Auchinleck Manuscript, gave him
the formidable name of Front-de-Buf.
Ivanhoe was highly successful upon its appearance,
and may be said to have procured
for its author the freedom of the Rules, since
he has ever since been permitted to exercise
his powers of fictitious composition in England,
as well as Scotland.
The character of the fair Jewess found so
much favour in the eyes of some fair readers,
that the writer was censured, because, when
arranging the fates of the characters of the
drama, he had not assigned the hand of Wilfred
to Rebecca, rather than the less interesting
Rowena. But, not to mention that the prejudices
of the age rendered such an union almost
impossible, the author may, in passing,
observe, that he thinks a character of a highly
virtuous and lofty stamp, is degraded rather
than exalted by an attempt to reward virtue
with temporal prosperity. Such is not the recompense
which Providence has deemed worthy
of suffering merit, and it is a dangerous
and fatal doctrine to teach young persons, the
most common readers of romance, that rectitude
of conduct and of principle are either naturally
allied with, or adequately rewarded by,
the gratification of our passions, or attainment
of our wishes. In a word, if a virtuous and self-denied
character is dismissed with temporal
wealth, greatness, rank, or the indulgence of
such a rashly formed or ill assorted passion as
that of Rebecca for Ivanhoe, the reader will be
apt to say, verily Virtue has had its reward.
But a glance on the great picture of life will
show, that the duties of self-denial, and the
sacrifice of passion to principle, are seldom thus
remunerated; and that the internal consciousness
of their high-minded discharge of duty,
produces on their own reflections a more adequate
recompense, in the form of that peace
which the world cannot give or take away.
Abbotsford,
1st September, 1830.
DEDICATORY EPISTLE
TO
THE REV. DR DRYASDUST, F.A.S.
Residing in the Castle-Gate, York.
Much esteemed and dear Sir,
It is scarcely necessary to mention the
various and concurring reasons which induce
me to place your name at the head of the following
work. Yet the chief of these reasons
may perhaps be refuted by the imperfections
of the performance. Could I have hoped to
render it worthy of your patronage, the public
would at once have seen the propriety of
inscribing a work designed to illustrate the
domestic antiquities of England, and particularly
of our Saxon forefathers, to the learned
author of the Essays upon the Horn of King
Ulphus, and on the Lands bestowed by him
upon the patrimony of St Peter. I am conscious,
however, that the slight, unsatisfactory,
and trivial manner, in which the result of my
antiquarian researches has been recorded in
the following pages, takes the work from under
that class which bears the proud motto,
_Detur digniori_. On the contrary, I fear I shall
incur the censure of presumption in placing
the venerable name of Dr Jonas Dryasdust at
the head of a publication, which the more
grave antiquary will perhaps class with the
idle novels and romances of the day. I am
anxious to vindicate myself from such a charge;
for although I might trust to your friendship
for an apology in your eyes, yet I would not
willingly stand conviction in those of the public
of so grave a crime, as my fears lead me
to anticipate my being charged with.
I must therefore remind you, that when we
first talked over together that class of productions,
in one of which the private and family
affairs of your learned northern friend, Mr
Oldbuck of Monkbarns, were so unjustifiably
exposed to the public, some discussion occurred
between us concerning the cause of the
popularity these works have attained in this
idle age, which, whatever other merit they
possess, must be admitted to be hastily written,
and in violation of every rule assigned to
the epopeia. It seemed then to be your opinion,
that the charm lay entirely in the art with
which the unknown author had availed himself,
like a second M`Pherson, of the antiquarian
stores which lay scattered around him, supplying
his own indolence or poverty of invention,
by the incidents which had actually taken
place in his country at no distant period, by
introducing real characters, and scarcely suppressing
real names. It was not above sixty
or seventy years, you observed, since the whole
north of Scotland was under a state of government
nearly as simple and as patriarchal
as those of our good allies the Mohawks and
Iroquois. Admitting that the author cannot
himself be supposed to have witnessed those
times, he must have lived, you observed, among
persons who had acted and suffered in them;
and even within these thirty years, such an infinite
change has taken place in the manners
of Scotland, that men look back upon the habits
of society proper to their immediate ancestors,
as we do on those of the reign of Queen
Anne, or even the period of the Revolution.
Having thus materials of every kind lying
strewed around him, there was little, you observed,
to embarrass the author, but the difficulty
of choice. It was no wonder, therefore,
that, having begun to work a mine so plentiful,
he should have derived from his works
fully more credit and profit than the facility
of his labours merited.
Admitting (as I could not deny) the general
truth of these conclusions, I cannot but
think it strange that no attempt has been made
to excite an interest for the traditions and
manners of Old England, similiar to that which
has been obtained in behalf of those of our poorer
and less celebrated neighbours. The Kendal
green, though its date is more ancient,
ought surely to be as dear to our feelings, as
the variegated tartans of the north. The name
of Robin Hood, if duly conjured with, should
raise a spirit as soon as that of Rob Roy; and
the patriots of England deserve no less their
renown in our modern circles, than the Bruces
and Wallaces of Caledonia. If the scenery of
the south be less romantic and sublime than
that of the northern mountains, it must be allowed
to possess in the same proportion superior
softness and beauty; and upon the whole,
we feel ourselves entitled to exclaim with the
patriotic Syrian---``Are not Pharphar and
Abana, rivers of Damascus, better than all the
rivers of Israel?''
Your objections to such an attempt, my dear
Doctor, were, you may remember, two-fold.
You insisted upon the advantages which the
Scotsman possessed, from the very recent existence
of that state of society in which his scene
was to be laid. Many now alive, you remarked,
well remembered persons who had not only
seen the celebrated Roy M`Gregor, but had
feasted, and even fought with him. All those
minute circumstances belonging to private life
and domestic character, all that gives verisimilitude
to a narrative, and individuality to the
persons introduced, is still known and remembered
in Scotland; whereas in England, civilisation
has been so long complete, that our
ideas of our ancestors are only to be gleaned
from musty records and chronicles, the authors
of which seem perversely to have conspired to
suppress in their narratives all interesting details,
in order to find room for flowers of monkish
eloquence, or trite reflections upon morals.
To match an English and a Scottish author in
the rival task of embodying and reviving the
traditions of their respective countries, would
be, you alleged, in the highest degree unequal
and unjust. The Scottish magician, you said,
was, like Lucan's witch, at liberty to walk over
the recent field of battle, and to select for the
subject of resuscitation by his sorceries, a body
whose limbs had recently quivered with existence,
and whose throat had but just uttered
the last note of agony. Such a subject even
the powerful Erictho was compelled to select,
as alone capable of being reanimated even by
_her_ potent magic---
------gelidas leto scrutata medullas,
Pulmonis rigidi stantes sine vulnere fibras
Invenit, et vocem defuncto in corpore qurit.
The English author, on the other hand, without
supposing him less of a conjuror than the
Northern Warlock, can, you observed, only
have the liberty of selecting his subject amidst
the dust of antiquity, where nothing was to be
found but dry, sapless, mouldering, and disjointed
bones, such as those which filled the
valley of Jehoshaphat. You expressed, besides,
your apprehension, that the unpatriotic
prejudices of my countrymen would not allow
fair play to such a work as that of which I endeavoured
to demonstrate the probable success.
And this, you said, was not entirely owing to the
more general prejudice in favour of that which
is foreign, but that it rested partly upon improbabilities,
arising out of the circumstances
in which the English reader is placed. If you
describe to him a set of wild manners, and a
state of primitive society existing in the Highlands
of Scotland, he is much disposed to acquiesce
in the truth of what is asserted. And
reason good. If he be of the ordinary class
of readers, he has either never seen those
remote districts at all, or he has wandered
through those desolate regions in the course
of a summer tour, eating bad dinners, sleeping
on truckle beds, stalking from desolation to
desolation, and fully prepared to believe the
strangest things that could be told him of a
people, wild and extravagant enough to be attached
to scenery so extraordinary. But the
same worthy person, when placed in his own
snug parlour, and surrounded by all the comforts
of an Englishman's fireside, is not half
so much disposed to believe that his own ancestors
led a very different life from himself;
that the shattered tower, which now forms a
vista from his window, once held a baron who
would have hung him up at his own door without
any form of trial; that the hinds, by whom
his little pet-farm is managed, a few centuries
ago would have been his slaves; and that
the complete influence of feudal tyranny once
extended over the neighbouring village, where
the attorney is now a man of more importance
than the lord of the manor.
While I own the force of these objections,
I must confess, at the same time, that they do
not appear to me to be altogether insurmountable.
The scantiness of materials is indeed a
formidable difficulty; but no one knows better
than Dr Dryasdust, that to those deeply
read in antiquity, hints concerning the private
life of our ancestors lie scattered through the
pages of our various historians, bearing, indeed,
a slender proportion to the other matters
of which they treat, but still, when collected
together, sufficient to throw considerable light
upon the _vie prive_ of our forefathers; indeed,
I am convinced, that however I myself may
fail in the ensuing attempt, yet, with more labour
in collecting, or more skill in using, the
materials within his reach, illustrated as they
have been by the labours of Dr Henry, of the
late Mr Strutt, and, above all, of Mr Sharon
Turner, an abler hand would have been successful;
and therefore I protest, beforehand,
against any argument which may be founded
on the failure of the present experiment.
On the other hand, I have already said, that
if any thing like a true picture of old English
manners could be drawn, I would trust to the
good-nature and good sense of my countrymen
for insuring its favourable reception.
Having thus replied, to the best of my power,
to the first class of your objections, or at least
having shown my resolution to overleap the
barriers which your prudence has raised, I
will be brief in noticing that which is more
peculiar to myself. It seems to be your opinion,
that the very office of an antiquary, employed
in grave, and, as the vulgar will sometimes
allege, in toilsome and minute research,
must be considered as incapacitating him from
successfully compounding a tale of this sort.
But permit me to say, my dear Doctor, that
this objection is rather formal than substantial.
It is true, that such slight compositions
might not suit the severer genius of our friend
Mr Oldbuck. Yet Horace Walpole wrote a
goblin tale which has thrilled through many a
bosom; and George Ellis could transfer all the
playful fascination of a humour, as delightful
as it was uncommon, into his Abridgement of
the Ancient Metrical Romances. So that,
however I may have occasion to rue my present
audacity, I have at least the most respectable
precedents in my favour.
Still the severer antiquary may think, that,
by thus intermingling fiction with truth, I am
polluting the well of history with modern inventions,
and impressing upon the rising generation
false ideas of the age which I describe.
I cannot but in some sense admit the force of
this reasoning, which I yet hope to traverse
by the following considerations.
It is true, that I neither can, nor do pretend,
to the observation of complete accuracy,
even in matters of outward costume, much less
in the more important points of language and
manners. But the same motive which prevents
my writing the dialogue of the piece in
Anglo-Saxon or in Norman-French, and which
prohibits my sending forth to the public this
essay printed with the types of Caxton or Wynken
de Worde, prevents my attempting to confine
myself within the limits of the period in
which my story is laid. It is necessary, for
exciting interest of any kind, that the subject
assumed should be, as it were, translated into
the manners, as well as the language, of the
age we live in. No fascination has ever been
attached to Oriental literature, equal to that
produced by Mr Galland's first translation of
the Arabian Tales; in which, retaining on the
one hand the splendour of Eastern costume,
and on the other the wildness of Eastern fiction,
he mixed these with just so much ordinary
feeling and expression, as rendered them
interesting and intelligible, while he abridged
the long-winded narratives, curtailed the monotonous
reflections, and rejected the endless
repetitions of the Arabian original. The tales,
therefore, though less purely Oriental than in
their first concoction, were eminently better
fitted for the European market, and obtained
an unrivalled degree of public favour, which
they certainly would never have gained had
not the manners and style been in some degree
familiarized to the feelings and habits of
the western reader.
In point of justice, therefore, to the multitudes
who will, I trust, devour this book with
avidity, I have so far explained our ancient
manners in modern language, and so far detailed
the characters and sentiments of my
persons, that the modern reader will not find
himself, I should hope, much trammelled by
the repulsive dryness of mere antiquity. In
this, I respectfully contend, I have in no respect
exceeded the fair license due to the author
of a fictitious composition. The late ingenious
Mr Strutt, in his romance of Queen-Hoo-Hall,*
* The author had revised this posthumous work of Mr Strutt.
* See General Preface to the present edition, Vol I. p. 65.
acted upon another principle; and
in distinguishing between what was ancient
and modern, forgot, as it appears to me, that
extensive neutral ground, the large proportion,
that is, of manners and sentiments which are
common to us and to our ancestors, having
been handed down unaltered from them to us,
or which, arising out of the principles of our
common nature, must have existed alike in
either state of society. In this manner, a man
of talent, and of great antiquarian erudition,
limited the popularity of his work, by excluding
from it every thing which was not sufficiently
obsolete to be altogether forgotten and
unintelligible.
The license which I would here vindicate,
is so necessary to the execution of my plan,
that I will crave your patience while I illustrate
my argument a little farther.
He who first opens Chaucer, or any other
ancient poet, is so much struck with the obsolete
spelling, multiplied consonants, and antiquated
appearance of the language, that he
is apt to lay the work down in despair, as encrusted
too deep with the rust of antiquity, to
permit his judging of its merits or tasting its
beauties. But if some intelligent and accomplished
friend points out to him, that the difficulties
by which he is startled are more in
appearance than reality, if, by reading aloud
to him, or by reducing the ordinary words to
the modern orthography, he satisfies his proselyte
that only about one-tenth part of the
words employed are in fact obsolete, the novice
may be easily persuaded to approach the ``well
of English undefiled,'' with the certainty that
a slender degree of patience will enable him
to enjoy both the humour and the pathos with
which old Geoffrey delighted the age of Cressy
and of Poictiers.
To pursue this a little farther. If our neophyte,
strong in the new-born love of antiquity,
were to undertake to imitate what he had
learnt to admire, it must be allowed he would
act very injudiciously, if he were to select
from the Glossary the obsolete words which it
contains, and employ those exclusively of all
phrases and vocables retained in modern days.
This was the error of the unfortunate Chatterton.
In order to give his language the appearance
of antiquity, he rejected every word
that was modern, and produced a dialect entirely
different from any that had ever been
spoken in Great Britain. He who would imitate
an ancient language with success, must
attend rather to its grammatical character,
turn of expression, and mode of arrangement,
than labour to collect extraordinary and antiquated
terms, which, as I have already averred,
do not in ancient authors approach the number
of words still in use, though perhaps somewhat
altered in sense and spelling, in the proportion
of one to ten.
What I have applied to language, is still
more justly applicable to sentiments and manners.
The passions, the sources from which
these must spring in all their modifications,
are generally the same in all ranks and conditions,
all countries and ages; and it follows, as
a matter of course, that the opinions, habits of
thinking, and actions, however influenced by
the peculiar state of society, must still, upon
the whole, bear a strong resemblance to each
other. Our ancestors were not more distinct
from us, surely, than Jews are from Christians;
they had ``eyes, hands, organs, dimensions,
senses, affections, passions;'' were ``fed
with the same food, hurt with the same weapons,
subject to the same diseases, warmed and
cooled by the same winter and summer,'' as
ourselves. The tenor, therefore, of their affections
and feelings, must have borne the same
general proportion to our own.
It follows, therefore, that of the materials
which an author has to use in a romance, or
fictitious composition, such as I have ventured
to attempt, he will find that a great proportion,
both of language and manners, is as
proper to the present time as to those in which
he has laid his time of action. The freedom
of choice which this allows him, is therefore
much greater, and the difficulty of his task
much more diminished, than at first appears.
To take an illustration from a sister art, the
antiquarian details may be said to represent
the peculiar features of a landscape under delineation
of the pencil. His feudal tower must
arise in due majesty; the figures which he introduces
must have the costume and character
of their age; the piece must represent the peculiar
features of the scene which he has chosen
for his subject, with all its appropriate elevation
of rock, or precipitate descent of cataract.
His general colouring, too, must be copied from
Nature: The sky must be clouded or serene,
according to the climate, and the general tints
must be those which prevail in a natural landscape.
So far the painter is bound down by
the rules of his art, to a precise imitation of
the features of Nature; but it is not required
that he should descend to copy all her more
minute features, or represent with absolute exactness
the very herbs, flowers, and trees, with
which the spot is decorated. These, as well
as all the more minute points of light and shadow,
are attributes proper to scenery in general,
natural to each situation, and subject to
the artist's disposal, as his taste or pleasure
may dictate.
It is true, that this license is confined in
either case within legitimate bounds. The
painter must introduce no ornament inconsistent
with the climate or country of his landscape;
he must not plant cypress trees upon
Inch-Merrin, or Scottish firs among the ruins
of Persepolis; and the author lies under a corresponding
restraint. However far he may
venture in a more full detail of passions and
feelings, than is to be found in the ancient
compositions which he imitates, he must introduce
nothing inconsistent with the manners
of the age; his knights, squires, grooms, and
yeomen, may be more fully drawn than in the
hard, dry delineations of an ancient illuminated
manuscript, but the character and costume of
the age must remain inviolate; they must be
the same figures, drawn by a better pencil, or,
to speak more modestly, executed in an age
when the principles of art were better understood.
His language must not be exclusively
obsolete and unintelligible; but he should admit,
if possible, no word or turn of phraseology
betraying an origin directly modern. It is
one thing to make use of the language and sentiments
which are common to ourselves and
our forefathers, and it is another to invest them
with the sentiments and dialect exclusively
proper to their descendants.
This, my dear friend, I have found the most
difficult part of my task; and, to speak frankly,
I hardly expect to satisfy your less partial
judgment, and more extensive knowledge of
such subjects, since I have hardly been able to
please my own.
I am conscious that I shall be found still
more faulty in the tone of keeping and costume,
by those who may be disposed rigidly to
examine my Tale, with reference to the manners
of the exact period in which my actors
flourished: It may be, that I have introduced
little which can positively be termed modern;
but, on the other hand, it is extremely probable
that I may have confused the manners of
two or three centuries, and introduced, during
the reign of Richard the First, circumstances
appropriated to a period either considerably
earlier, or a good deal later than that era. It
is my comfort, that errors of this kind will
escape the general class of readers, and that
I may share in the ill-deserved applause of
those architects, who, in their modern Gothic,
do not hesitate to introduce, without rule or
method, ornaments proper to different styles
and to different periods of the art. Those
whose extensive researches have given them
the means of judging my backslidings with
more severity, will probably be lenient in proportion
to their knowledge of the difficulty of
my task. My honest and neglected friend,
Ingulphus, has furnished me with many a
valuable hint; but the light afforded by the
Monk of Croydon, and Geoffrey de Vinsauff,
is dimmed by such a conglomeration of uninteresting
and unintelligible matter, that we
gladly fly for relief to the delightful pages of
the gallant Froissart, although he flourished at
a period so much more remote from the date
of my history. If, therefore, my dear friend,
you have generosity enough to pardon the presumptuous
attempt, to frame for myself a minstrel
coronet, partly out of the pearls of pure
antiquity, and partly from the Bristol stones
and paste, with which I have endeavoured to
imitate them, I am convinced your opinion of
the difficulty of the task will reconcile you to
the imperfect manner of its execution.
Of my materials I have but little to say
They may be chiefly found in the singular Anglo-Norman
MS., which Sir Arthur Wardour
preserves with such jealous care in the third
drawer of his oaken cabinet, scarcely allowing
any one to touch it, and being himself not able
to read one syllable of its contents. I should
never have got his consent, on my visit to
Scotland, to read in those precious pages for
so many hours, had I not promised to designate
it by some emphatic mode of printing, as
{The Wardour Manuscript}; giving it, thereby,
an individuality as important as the Bannatyne
MS., the Auchinleck MS., and any other monument
of the patience of a Gothic scrivener.
I have sent, for your private consideration, a
list of the contents of this curious piece, which
I shall perhaps subjoin, with your approbation,
to the third volume of my Tale, in case the
printer's devil should continue impatient for
copy, when the whole of my narrative has been
imposed.
Adieu, my dear friend; I have said enough
to explain, if not to vindicate, the attempt
which I have made, and which, in spite of
your doubts, and my own incapacity, I am
still willing to believe has not been altogether
made in vain.
I hope you are now well recovered from
your spring fit of the gout, and shall be happy
if the advice of your learned physician should
recommend a tour to these parts. Several
curiosities have been lately dug up near the
wall, as well as at the ancient station of Habitancum.
Talking of the latter, I suppose you
have long since heard the news, that a sulky
churlish boor has destroyed the ancient statue,
or rather bas-relief, popularly called Robin of
Redesdale. It seems Robin's fame attracted
more visitants than was consistent with the
growth of the heather, upon a moor worth a
shilling an acre. Reverend as you write yourself,
be revengeful for once, and pray with me
that he may be visited with such a fit of the
stone, as if he had all the fragments of poor
Robin in that region of his viscera where the
disease holds its seat. Tell this not in Gath,
lest the Scots rejoice that they have at length
found a parallel instance among their neighbours,
to that barbarous deed which demolished
Arthur's Oven. But there is no end to
lamentation, when we betake ourselves to such
subjects. My respectful compliments attend
Miss Dryasdust; I endeavoured to match the
spectacles agreeable to her commission, during
my late journey to London, and hope she has
received them safe, and found them satisfactory.
I send this by the blind carrier, so that
probably it may be some time upon its journey.*
* This anticipation proved but too true, as my learned correspondent
* did not receive my letter until a twelvemonth after
* it was written. I mention this circumstance, that a gentleman
* attached to the cause of learning, who now holds the principal
* control of the post-office, may consider whether by some mitigation
* of the present enormous rates, some favour might not be
* shown to the correspondents of the principal Literary and Antiquarian
* Societies. I understand, indeed, that this experiment
* was once tried, but that the mail-coach having broke down under
* the weight of packages addressed to members of the Society
* of Antiquaries, it was relinquished as a hazardous experiment.
* Surely, however it would be possible to build these vehicles in a
* form more substantial, stronger in the perch, and broader in the
* wheels, so as to support the weight of Antiquarian learning;
* when, if they should be found to travel more slowly, they would
* be not the less agreeable to quiet travellers like myself.---L. T.
The last news which I hear from Edinburgh
is, that the gentleman who fills the situation
of Secretary to the Society of Antiquaries
of Scotland,* is the best amateur draftsman
* Mr Skene of Rubislaw is here intimated, to whose taste
* and skill the author is indebted for a series of etchings, exhibiting
* the various localities alluded to in these novels.
in that kingdom, and that much is expected
from his skill and zeal in delineating
those specimens of national antiquity, which
are either mouldering under the slow touch of
time, or swept away by modern taste, with
the same besom of destruction which John
Knox used at the Reformation. Once more adieu;
_vale tandem, non immemor mei_. Believe me to be,
Reverend, and very dear Sir,
Your most faithful humble Servant.
Laurence Templeton.
Toppingwold, near Egremont,
Cumberland, Nov. 17, 1817.