IVANHOE

Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart,
And often took leave,--but seemed loath to depart! [1]
--Prior.




INTRODUCTION TO IVANHOE.


The Author of the Waverley Novels had hitherto proceeded in an unabated
course of popularity, and might, in his peculiar district of literature,
have been termed "L'Enfant Gate" 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 enu