England in Peril
By the year 1199, England had gone to the dogs. The knightly king, Richard the Lionheart, had left for a crusade in the Holy Land. In his absence, his corrupt and unprincipled brother John ruled in his place. Society is torn not only by unjust laws but also by the tyranny of the Normans, who had previously subjugated the Saxons. Robber knights terrorized the land, while outlaws prowled the forests… In such dire times, only a brave and noble-hearted knight could set things right—someone like Ivanhoe.
A Dash of Romance…
Sir Walter Scott, the pioneer of the historical romance genre, perhaps achieved his greatest success with Ivanhoe. The chivalric romance, deeply rooted in English literature since the Arthurian legends, provided a solid foundation for the emergence of a noble-hearted hero. And the ever-popular Robin Hood legends, passed down through the centuries, only added to the book’s success.
The readers’ emotional investment is secured by identifying with the oppressed Saxons suffering under arrogant tyranny—after all, who wouldn’t sympathize with the undeserving victims of injustice?
Of course, no historical romance is complete without a heroine—one who must be adored from afar, and, inevitably, rescued. Scott doesn’t settle for just one; Ivanhoe gives us two such heroines. Naturally, both are stunningly beautiful, but more importantly, they are also strikingly independent for the era in which they live. Cheers to strong female characters!
Step into the Middle Ages!
Ivanhoe is a chivalric romance in the most classic sense. It takes place at the height of the chivalric era, when heavily armored knights had no real match on the battlefield. The famous English longbowmen had yet to appear with their yew bows to pierce armor, and cannons were still nowhere to be seen.
Knights like Ivanhoe and Richard Plantagenet, clad head to toe in steel, plowed through opposition like one-man tanks. Scottish author Walter Scott paints an incredibly vivid picture of this era. Whether it’s a jousting tournament, a castle siege, or even a witch trial, the reader feels like they are right in the thick of it.
Scott’s descriptions are so detailed—covering everything from clothing to weapons to architecture—that immersing yourself in the story is practically inevitable. (That is, unless you doze off halfway through a page-long description of a swineherd’s attire.)
Strong of Arm, Bold of Heart
Wilfred of Ivanhoe is the embodiment of classic knightly virtues. If you plopped him down at King Arthur’s Round Table, he’d fit right in, both in character and in combat prowess.
However, if he were to find himself in the great hall of some Game of Thrones warlord, he’d undoubtedly be the first one his battle-hardened comrades mocked mercilessly. In fact, they’d probably burst out laughing at him.
For Sir Ivanhoe is honest to the point of foolishness, honorable to the point of naivety—especially for a veteran who has fought brutal battles in the Holy Land. The scene where he reveals just how deeply steeped he is in the highest ideals of knighthood perfectly illustrates this. No wonder Scott keeps his title character in the background for most of the novel. If there’s a jousting match to be fought, Ivanhoe is there in a flash. Otherwise, he quickly fades into the background!
The brave Saxon noblemen don’t fare much better either—they’re straight-up comic relief. Ivanhoe’s father, Cedric, is a hot-tempered, thick-headed oaf. Athelstane, supposedly the Saxons’ great hope for restoring their former glory, is a constant source of humor. A gluttonous, sluggish, ambitionless lump—only someone with terrible judgment could see him as a promising leader for a Saxon revival.
Five Shades of Grey
It’s a different story with the villains of Ivanhoe—that is, everyone on the Norman side. The knights who rule and exploit England by the right of the stronger are products of their time. In the absence of a strong-handed king, they feel they can do whatever they please. And they do.
A reader of Ivanhoe might think that Walter Scott exaggerates the injustices of the era for dramatic effect, but at one point, the author himself references historical sources that suggest he actually softened the reality. In Ivanhoe, the hero always arrives at the last moment to save the day. But in real-life medieval England, how often did that happen?
Still, it’s the Normans in Scott’s book who, although they don’t entirely shy away from their vile deeds, occasionally show some emotions—alongside their usual arrogance, of course. Doubt, a bit of guilt, a hint of self-reproach. Interestingly, it is Brian de Bois-Guilbert, the Templar knight who rightfully takes the title of the book’s main villain, who goes the furthest in this regard
(If you’ve read The Accursed Kings, which takes place about a hundred years later and begins with the downfall of the Templar Order, any sympathy you felt for them will quickly evaporate while reading Ivanhoe.)
Scott also makes no secret of the fact that the Norman ruling class, for all its brutality, is far more refined and cultured than the Saxons, who, along with their nobility, are barely above peasantry.
So if you had dinner invitations from both sides, you’d probably pick the Normans…
Slow and steady
Romantic literature doesn’t always age well. Ivanhoe, written nearly 200 years ago, is no exception. The largely one-dimensional characters—either good, evil (or plain dumb)— leave little room for character complexity.
The dialogue is even worse.
Every character In Ivanhoe speaks in an overly theatrical manner from start to finish. If someone simply wants to say, “No, you assmunch!” they’ll stretch it out into a half-page of convoluted sentences. Naturally, the response will take up another half-page. So if, while reading, you feel that the dialogues are dragging along at a painfully slow pace, it’s definitely not your fault.
Readers in Scott’s time, accustomed to Shakespeare and similar playwrights, were probably more receptive to this style. After all, they grew up with it.
The same goes for Scott’s humor.
Wait, humor? Yes.
Scott’s jokes might not land with modern readers, but audiences of his day, familiar with the comedies of the era, likely enjoyed the earthy, bantering humor of the Saxon commoners. Yamba or the Hermit of Copmanhurst—who at first bears a striking resemblance to, and later fully merges with, the legendary Friar Tuck—take up a significant portion of the novel, dedicating much of their time to jesting. But holding his own among them is the Black Sluggard, whose black armor conceals one of the most renowned knights of the era for quite some time—though not so well that he remains entirely unrecognizable.
Beyond Romance
No sooner had Sir Walter Scott invented the historical romance than he started pushing its boundaries. Not too forcefully, but noticeably. Wamba, the jester (and the wisest character in Ivanhoe), is always ready to set the record straight. This is most evident when he strips Robin Hood’s outlaws of their legendary status right after they’ve been a great help to Ivanhoe and his allies. “They’re just bandits,” he declares.
Even while crafting a chivalric romance, Scott doesn’t forget to provide a sharp critique of the institution of knighthood—dismissing it as largely empty glory-seeking.
Its female protagonists are on equal footing with the men—Rowena by birthright, and Rebecca, the moneylender Isaac’s daughter, thanks to her upbringing. This is a rather surprising and delightful discovery. Even more surprising, however, is the way Walter Scott portrays his Jewish characters.
Jews: The Outcasts of the Middle Ages
The novel Ivanhoe has no true protagonist. Perhaps the titular hero and his lover, Lady Rowena, appear the least in it. The novel is divided into three major sections, each built around a defining moment of the chivalric era, though it often jumps between characters in a way that feels erratic and unpredictable. Among these characters, two stand out in particular: Isaac, the Jewish moneylender, and his daughter, Rebecca.
By birth, both father and daughter are outcasts—pariahs whom society forbids from mingling with others. They are innocent victims of contempt, religious fanaticism, and sheer ignorance, constantly in mortal danger throughout the events of Ivanhoe. Their crime? Being born Jewish.
Sir Walter Scott does nothing more than briefly illuminate what daily life was like for Jews in the 12th century, yet in doing so, he delivers a chilling snapshot of the existence forced upon an entire people for two thousand years—all because of one of the Catholic Church’s most despicable crimes.
And, of course, he also provides an answer—should anyone have had any doubts—as to what kinds of factors could lead, barely 100 years after the publication of his novel, to the near-total annihilation of a people.
It is also telling that nearly every character on the side of good in Ivanhoe, from the valiant Robin Hood to the beautiful Rowena, shares a common disdain for Jews.
Sir Walter Scott takes a clear stance by making Rebecca the novel’s most positive character. Kind-hearted and unfailingly honorable, she is, among a sea of scoundrels and muddle-headed fools, almost the only one with broad-minded, enlightened views.
With this choice, Scott may well have created the most enduring element of his historical novel.
Summary
Sir Walter Scott’s romantic chivalric novel Ivanhoe is, in many ways, an outdated and difficult work to digest. Yet, despite its flaws, it occasionally reveals surprising virtues. And one thing is undeniable: it portrays a long-lost, almost mythical era in its purest form, crafted with such mastery that it is far from simple to escape its influence as a reader.
Rating: 7/10
Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott
496 pages, Paperback
Published in 2000 by Penguin Books /Penguin Classics
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