Ivanhoe | Page 6

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