As a book, Ivanhoe invests deeply in appearances. It describes in great detail the clothing and physical characteristics of its most important characters, in many cases representing these as key to understanding the nature of each one—for example, in the way it associates Rebecca’s beauty with her moral rectitude or Cedric’s resolutely old-fashioned clothing with his proudly Saxon identity. Somewhat surprisingly, then, the book also features a long list of masked and disguised individuals. Wilfred of Ivanhoe and King Richard I travel around England disguised as the Disinherited Knight and the Black Knight, respectively; Locksley and his band of thieving woodsmen wear masks to conceal their identities; Maurice De Bracy, Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and their friends adopt woodsmen’s costumes when they plot to kidnap Rowena and Cedric; Wamba and Cedric both impersonate monks.
Counterintuitively, these superficial disguises almost always allow rather than frustrate the revelation of the truth. King Richard’s actions—befriending Cedric and Locksley, rescuing Athelstane and Rowena from Torquilstone, showing loyalty towards his friends and mercy towards his enemies—prove him to be the worthy and rightful king of England while he’s still disguised as the Black Knight. Conversely, De Bracy shows himself to be a distinctly arrogant, uncaring man when he dresses up as an English yeoman thief to kidnap Rowena in hopes of forcing her to marry him. On a broader level, the masks donned by Locksley and his men point towards the corruption and lawless abuses practiced by the Norman nobility as they bleed English citizens of wealth and other resources. Moreover, the book portrays the few disguises which aim at real deception—such as Albert de Malvoisin’s veneer of holiness—as incapable of hiding the truth. When Richard reveals himself at the preceptory, he also uncovers the evil practiced by its Templar denizens. Thus, while characters in the book sometimes adopt disguises for a variety of reasons—to avoid being captured before raising an army in Richard’s case; to earn reconciliation with his father on Ivanhoe’s; to escape detection while carrying out crimes—their disguises all ultimately reveal the truth rather than hide it. Thus, the book argues, a person’s true nature will always make itself evident.
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Disguise and Discovery Quotes in Ivanhoe
While Isaac thus stood an outcast in the present society, like his people among the nations, looking in vain for welcome or resting place, the Pilgrim who sat by the chimney took compassion upon him, and resigned his seat, saying briefly, “Old man, my garments are dried, my hunger is appeased, thou art both wet and fasting.” So saying, he gathered together, and brought to a flame, the decaying brands which lay scattered on the ample hearth; took form the larger board a mess of pottage and seethed kid, placed it upon the small table at which he himself had supped, and without waiting the Jew’s thanks, went to the other side of the hall;—whether from unwillingness to hold more close communication with the object of his benevolence, or from a wish to draw near to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.
No spider ever took more pains to repair the shattered meshes of his web, than did Waldemar Fitzurse to reunite and combine the scattered members of Prince John’s cabal. Few of these were attached to him from inclination, and none from personal attachment. It was therefore necessary […to] open to them new prospects of advantage, and remind them of those which they presently enjoyed. To the young and wild nobles, he held out the prospect of unpunished license and uncontrolled revelry; to the ambitions, that of power, and to the covetous, that of increased wealth and extended domains. The leaders of the mercenaries received a donation in gold; an argument most persuasive to their minds, and without which all others would have proved in vain. Promises were still more liberally distributed than money by this active agent; […] nothing was left undone that could determine the wavering, or animate the disheartened.
Beside this fountain were the ruins of a very small chapel, of which the roof had partly fallen in. […] The ribs of two of these arches remained, though the roof had fallen down betwixt them; over the others it remained entire. The entrance to this ancient place of devotion was under a very low round arch, ornamented by several courses of that zig-zag moulding, resembling shark’s teeth, which appears so often in the more ancient Saxon churches. A belfry rose above the porch on four small pillars, within which hung the green and weather-beaten bell […].
The whole peaceful and quiet scene lay glimmering in twilight before the eyes of the traveller, giving him good assurance of lodging for the night; since it was a special duty of those hermits who dwelt in the woods to exercise hospitality toward benighted or bewildered passengers.
Both the Saxon chiefs were made prisoners at the same moment, and each under circumstances expressive of his character. Cedric, the instant that an enemy appeared, launched at him his remaining javelin, which, taking better effect than that which he had hurled at Fangs, nailed the man against an oak-tree that happened to be close behind him. Thus far successful, Cedric spurred his horse against a second, drawing his sword at the same time, and striking with such inconsiderate fury, that his weapon encountered a thick branch which hung over him, and he was disarmed by the violence of his own blow. He was instantly made prisoner, and pulled from his horse by two or three of the banditti who crowded around him. Athelstane shared his captivity, his bridle having been sized, and he himself forcibly dismounted, long before he could draw his weapon, or assume any posture of effectual defense.
“O, assuredly,” said Isaac. “I have trafficked with the good fathers, and bought wheat and barley, and fruits of the earth, and also much wool. O, it is a rich abbey-stede, and they do live up on the fat, and drink the sweet wine upon the lees, these good fathers of Jorvaulx. Ah, if an out-cast like me had such a home to go to, and such incomings by the year and by the term, I would pay much gold and silver to redeem my captivity.”
“Hound of a Jew!” exclaimed the Prior, “no one knows better than thy own cursed self, that our holy house of God is indebted for the finishing of our chancel!”—
“And for the storing of your cellars in the last season with the due allowance of Gascon wine,” interrupted the Jew; “but it is small matters.”
