In this dialogue between the serfs Wamba and Gurth, the author uses an animal metaphor to illustrate the linguistic and cultural divisions between Saxons and Normans in medieval England. The conversation hinges on the fact that pigs are called “swine” when they are alive, but “pork” when they’re killed and cooked:
‘Why, how call you these grunting brutes running about on their four legs?’ demanded Wamba.
‘Swine, fool, swine,’ said the herd, ‘every fool knows that.’
‘And swine is good Saxon,’ said the jester; ‘but how call you the sow when she is flayed, and drawn, and quartered, and hung up by the heels, like a traitor?’ ‘Pork,’ answered the swine-herd. ‘I am very glad every fool knows that too,’ said Wamba, ‘and pork, I think, is good Norman French [...]
[...] when the brute lives, and is in the charge of a Saxon slave, she goes by her Saxon name; but becomes a Norman, and is called pork, when she is carried to the Castle-hall to feast among the nobles; what do’st thou think of this, friend Gurth, ha?’
In this passage, Scott is discussing the transformation of the language spoken in England from Anglo-Saxon to Norman French. He compares it to the transition pigs undergo from "swine" to "pork." When the Normans conquered England they brought the French they spoke with them. This linguistic shift was an important part of the broader cultural imposition of Norman language and customs over the Saxon population. Wamba is making an analogy between “swine” and Saxons and “pork” and Normans. When the “swine” are transformed into "pork" and consumed in the halls of the Norman nobility, it’s a microcosm of the subjugation the Saxons faced when their lands were conquered and they had to adopt Norman ways of life. The Saxons were utterly subjugated, just as Wamba and Gurth subjugate the pigs they herd.
The second metaphor extends this notion, suggesting that the more "sophisticated" Normans are associated with "pork"—the end product, cooked and served—while the Saxons are aligned with the "swine," the live animals kept outside. Wamba is here making a commentary on the social hierarchy he and Gurth live in. Saxons—likened to the unrefined, living “swine”—are seen as inferior to the Normans, who are associated with the more refined “pork.”
Scott vividly describes the Ashby jousting field's lists before the tournament begins, using visual imagery to highlight the stark contrasts between nobility and poverty. The scene as a whole is a useful microcosm of the social strata of Ivanhoe’s world, where the "fabric" of English society is described in the same terms as velvet or silk might be compared to burlap:
The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful in the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the various dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered the view as gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its splendour.
The splendidly colorful attire of the nobles, which Scott describes as "rich and gay", displays their wealth and status. In the medieval context of the novel, bright colors and fancy fabrics were not just aesthetic choices. Dyes were expensive and importing fabrics and materials even more so, so clothes like this were unmistakable symbols of affluence and power. The ability to afford these garments distinguished the elite from the common folk who lived on the land they owned. Their attire was generally more functional and made from natural, less expensive materials. This distinction in dress was a visual signifier of the economic disparities of the time. Serfs like Gurth, who were enslaved people living on the estates of the wealthy, would have had even less choice in their attire.
Scott's depiction of the “galleries” of the lists surrounded by the "dark fringe" of the poorer classes represents this difference between haves and have-nots literally. At an event like the Ashby tournament, wealthy people would be seated behind the barriers that surrounded the arena, while the poorer attendees would stand around and underneath them. In the image Scott creates for the reader here, the "brilliant embroidery" of the nobles is set against the plainer, darker clothing of the lesser members of society. This both “relieves” the brightness of the wealthy people’s outfits and emphasizes it, making them seem more glamorous in comparison.
Scott uses personification and metaphor to illustrate the tension between Bois-Guilbert and Rebecca as the young woman refuses to leave Torquilstone with him. This unexpected refusal highlights the power dynamics at play between the Knight Templar and his intended victim:
The eyes of the Templar flashed fire at this reproof – ‘Hearken,’ he said, ‘Rebecca; I have hitherto spoke mildly to thee, but now my language shall be that of a conqueror. Thou art the captive of my bow and spear – subject to my will by the laws of all nations, nor will I abate an inch of my right, or abstain from taking by violence what thou refusest to entreaty or necessity.’
Scott’s personification of the bow and spear as Bois-Guilbert's allies in “capturing” Rebecca makes his threat of harming her feel realistic and immediate. By suggesting that Rebecca is not just being held hostage by Bois-Guilbert but by the weapons themselves, Scott turns them into active participants in her misery. Rebecca is suddenly being threatened by a group instead of a single aggressive figure. This personification underscores the extent to which Bois-Guilbert is willing to force Rebecca to do what he wants.
The metaphor of Bois-Guilbert's eyes “flashing fire” also speaks to his intense fury and loss of patience. He chastises Rebecca, saying that he’s finished speaking “mildly” to her and is now ready to harm her if she doesn’t obey him. He assumes that he’ll overpower her instantly, saying that he will now speak to her as a “conqueror” who will “take by violence” what she refuses to give. He’s so furious that even his eyes are “flashing fire” that could harm her. He is emitting threats of imminent harm from every possible source.
In this passage, the author employs allusion and metaphor to reveal Bois-Guilbert's possessive, limited view of Rebecca's value. As he reveals himself when he finds her in Castle Torquilstone, he admits to being himself and not an unknown ruffian:
‘And thou, who canst guess so truly,’ said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, dropping the mantle from his face, ‘art no true daughter of Israel, but in all, save youth and beauty, a very witch of Endor. I am not an outlaw, then, fair rose of Sharon. And I am one who will be more prompt to hang thy neck and arms with pearls and diamonds, which so well become them, than to deprive thee of those ornaments.’
Bois-Guilbert is beginning his attempt to woo Rebecca, implying through an allusion that she has bewitched him and promising her treasure and riches. However, by invoking the “witch of Endor,” a Biblical figure known for her supernatural powers and association with King Saul, the author directly ties Rebecca to a legacy of misunderstood and maligned women. In comparing her to this character, Scott is suggesting her perceived unwelcomeness and alienation as a Jew in the England of Ivanhoe. This reference also subtly hints at the societal fears and prejudices that Rebecca navigates, framing her extreme intelligence and independence as sources of suspicion rather than safety.
Bois-Guilbert’s mention of the "rose of Sharon”—an ancient term for a hibiscus, a delicate flower that thrives in the climate of the Middle East—also underscores Rebecca's Jewish identity. In calling her a “Rose of Sharon” Bois-Guilbert is also invoking the resilience that plant biblically symbolizes, as it grows and blooms in harsh conditions. This allusion paints her as an object of both beauty and endurance, while underlining that her Jewishness is still on Bois-Guilbert’s mind.
The metaphor "to hang thy neck and arms with pearls and diamonds" illustrates Bois-Guilbert's possessive and objectifying view of Rebecca. He doesn’t want to give her jewelry, but to “hang” it from her. He is comparing her adornment with jewelry to the decoration of an inanimate object or a piece of property. Through this metaphor, Bois-Guilbert reveals that he sees Rebecca not as a person, but as an object to be displayed.
Speaking to Rebecca about his concerns should Richard I return, Isaac references King Richard I's famous moniker “The Lionheart” and the Crusades. He does so to express his fear of meeting King Richard because of his dealings with Prince John, employing allusion and metaphor to emphasize his point:
And him whom the Nazarenes of England call the Lion’s Heart, assuredly it were better for me to fall into the hands of a strong lion of Idumea than into his, if he shall have assurance of my dealing with his brother.
The allusion to Richard I's nickname, "the Lion’s Heart," alludes to his legendary bravery and ferocity, particularly in the context of the Crusades, where he was a leading Christian (referred to here as "Nazarene") figure. Isaac's use of "Nazarenes" to refer to Christians and choosing to use a nickname to refer to Richard signal his discomfort as much as the content of his speech does. He’s concerned about direct contact with Richard, and so even his choice of words distances him from direct confrontation with the King.
The metaphor Isaac uses here only further displays his terror of Richard. He compares the idea of facing Richard I to facing an actual lion from Idumea—a real region in what is now Jordan—historically populated with fierce lions. This comparison vividly illustrates Isaac's terror, as he says he’d rather confront a literal wild lion than Richard "the Lionheart." This metaphor not only highlights Isaac's real and profound fear of retribution from King Richard, but also underscores the high stakes involved in the political and personal loyalties of the time. As a Jew living in England, he’s already always in danger; being associated with a traitor to the throne like Prince John would be very perilous indeed should Richard I return to his throne.
As he describes the care Rebecca provides for the injured Ivanhoe, Scott alludes to the medieval Romance genre's trope of the gentle, healing female lover:
The youngest reader of romances and romantic ballads, must recollect how often the females, during the dark ages as they are called, were initiated into the mysteries of surgery, and how frequently the gallant knight submitted the wounds of his person to her cure, whose eyes had yet more deeply penetrated his heart.
The allusion to the "Gentle Nurse" trope refers to one of the traditional roles young unmarried women play in medieval Romance literature. Beautiful, sometimes magically gifted female characters often heal the wounds of injured knights in these stories. This imagery evokes traditional genre-specific ideas of love and chivalry; in a more general sense, it reinforces traditional gender roles by showing women as caregivers to embattled men. By referencing this trope, Scott connects the story to other versions of the same events in 12th- and 13th-century romances.
The metaphor Scott employs here—comparing the act of meeting the gaze of a lover to stabbing or “penetrating” the physical body—suggests that compassion from an attractive female source is as powerful as a sword or a lance. The metaphor emphasizes the narrative that women play a crucial role in healing not just physical wounds, but emotional ones as well. Ivanhoe has just been literally stabbed in the chest, but the author suggests that he actually feels more deeply “penetrated” by Rebecca’s gaze here.
