Ivanhoe

Lawrence Templeton, naming himself as author of the following story, writes a letter to the Reverend Dr. Jonas Dryasdust explaining his literary project. Templeton worries that Dryasdust will consider the unworthy book as little better than an “idle novel [or] romance.” He recalls Dryasdust’s contention that a contest between an English historical novelist and a Scottish one would be unfairly weighted towards the Scot, since the interesting parts of English history lie too deep in the past to appeal to modern audiences and he doubts that English readers would willingly accept the idea of their ancestors practicing barbaric customs.

On the contrary, Templeton contends, although it may be harder to glean sufficient hints about the “private life of [English] ancestors” from “musty records and chronicles,” a sufficiently wide survey of the available materials can, indeed, paint a vivid picture of the past. And he feels confident that if he has painted a “true picture of old English manners,” his countrymen will accept it. Finally, he answers Dryasdust’s final argument—that scholars make bad storytellers—with a list of men accomplished in both spheres, among whom Templeton hopes to merit inclusion.

Templeton admits that he cannot claim complete and total accuracy in his depiction of medieval customs—doing so would render the work unreadable—but he notes that all good fiction makes careful choices to facilitate readers’ understanding and interest. Successful translations of exotic books like The Arabian Nights depend on a careful mixture of accuracy and literary license; moreover, the best historical fictions both highlight the strangeness of the past and acknowledging the similarities of “manners and sentiments” across eras. To prove this point, he notes how familiar the emotions and situations in, say, Chaucer, can seem to modern readers who muddle through the language. Strange though their customs may have been, people in the past were still people.

In striking this balance, the writer faces a steeper challenge than other artists, since he must paint with words. And in this arena, Templeton admits his work may fall short of Dryasdust’s exacting standards. While he carefully avoided the inaccurate use of modern ideas, he may have conflated different eras of the past to paint a vivid picture. But he expects only specialists, not general readers, to note these mistakes.

Templeton closes his letter by describing his primary source, a single manuscript he found in the possession of Sir Arthur Wardour. He expresses his hope that he has explained, if not vindicated, his attempt. Then, after a paragraph of personal considerations and social gossip, he bids Dryasdust farewell. A footnote complains that it took more than a year for the letter to reach Dryasdust thanks to the poor state of the postal service.