@oldshrewsburyian @dancingsalome thanks for encouraging this and let me know what you think sorry it got so loooong
TLDR: Urfried and Rebecca are narrative foils! Urfried/Ulrica’s purpose in the story is not just to help our heroes win the castle, it’s to emphasize ~THEMES ~ of honor, innocence, guilt, revenge, repentance and redemption.
“It matters not who I am,” said Cedric; “proceed, unhappy woman, with thy tale of horror and guilt!—Guilt there must be—there is guilt even in thy living to tell it.” (Chapter 17)
As soon as Cedric learns Ulrica’s identity, without knowing anything about what befell her, he has already made up his mind. Ulrica has spent decades as a prisoner, completely isolated from her people, regularly suffering sexualized violence. Cedric, hearing this, has nothing better to offer than his own rancid version of the Ebeneezer Scrooge “Are there no workhouses?” hot take: “Was there no poniard—no knife—no bodkin!”
Cedric is of the incredibly based opinion that Ulrica should have stabbed herself rather than living with the shame of *checks notes* surviving in captivity while her male family members died. He’s done it again, add a check in the mile-long column of Reasons Cedric Sucks, right after throwing a spear at a dog cause he was angry. While Cedric is the worst, we can’t assume that Cedric’s opinion is identical to Scott’s, or that the readers are supposed to agree with Cedric. But Ulrica, at least, agrees:
“There is—there is,” answered the wretched woman, “deep, black, damning guilt,—guilt, that lies like a load at my breast—guilt, that all the penitential fires of hereafter cannot cleanse.—Yes, in these halls, stained with the noble and pure blood of my father and my brethren—in these very halls, to have lived the paramour of their murderer, the slave at once and the partaker of his pleasures, was to render every breath which I drew of vital air, a crime and a curse.”
From a 21st century perspective Ulrica is clearly a victim. The horrific conclusion of Ulrica and Cedric’s conversation is that, by 19th century standards, Ulrica does not qualify for proper victimhood. At best, she can be an object of pity and horror. But she is placed into the role of the fallen woman, who is always, to some degree, responsible for her own supposed degradation. It’s gross, but Walter Scott writes Ulrica as a character who both suffered but also kind of wanted it. The Madonna/Whore dichotomy presumes that women are either pure or impure. There can be no middle ground, there is no wholesome form of female sexuality, there is only purity or sin. And because Ulrica failed to sufficiently curb her own fall into sin by offing herself (seriously Cedric what the fuck?!), she is no longer deserving of sympathy. Ulrica seems contradictory because there should be nothing but time separating her and Rebecca – and yet she is denied the sympathy, the heroism, the narrative justice of Rebecca. The innocent victim is a culturally constructed category – this is true from the medieval period until today.
If this is something you find interesting, I highly recommend reading the paper “Loose Women or Lost Women?”. Feminist scholar Jo Doezema analyzes how 19th century attitudes on innocence and victimhood still influence conversations about female sexuality today. In short, in order to push back against state control of women’s movements in public, the nascent feminist movement needed to reframe prostitution in a way that made society sympathize with “fallen women”.
“Neither the pre-Victorian "fallen women" nor the Victorian "sexual deviant" was an ideal construct to elicit public sympathy. Only by removing all responsibility for her own condition could the prostitute be constructed as a victim to appeal to the sympathies of the middle-class reformers, thereby generating public support for the end goal of abolition. The "white slave" image as used by abolitionists broke down the old separation between "voluntary" sinful and/or deviant prostitutes and "involuntary" prostitutes.” (Doezema p. 28)
My point here is that there are culturally agreed upon ideas of what a victim looks like, specifically what a female victim of male sexualized violence should look and act like in order to be worthy of sympathy.
“The archtypical "white slave," as I have shown, was suitable for public sympathy (and delectable tabloid fodder) because of her youth and innocence.” (Doezema p. 34)
(There is absolutely a racial component here, but I don’t believe I’m qualified to tackle that in a tumblr post. Suffice it to say that purity and innocence would traditionally be ascribed to white women and Rebecca’s status is *complicated*)
The Madonna and Whore, victim and sinner constitute each other. In the context of Ivanhoe, Rebecca and Ulrica constitute each other as opposite sides of the same coin.
This is not a Rebecca diss, I promise
Why are Rebecca and Ulrica treated differently by the narrative? They are, or were, both great beauties, they were both taken from their families, they belong to a different people than their captors. They’re both called witches! They could be allies! But no!
Urfried is introduced to the reader as ominous and malignant:
“The hag raised her head as Rebecca entered, and scowled at the fair Jewess with the malignant envy with which old age and ugliness, when united with evil conditions, are apt to look upon youth and beauty.”
This envy turns to sadistic satisfaction when she realizes that Rebecca will suffer as she suffered:
„Yet it is comfort to think that we leave behind us on earth those who shall be wretched as ourselves. Fare thee well, Jewess!—Jew or Gentile, thy fate would be the same; for thou hast to do with them that have neither scruple nor pity.“
In this and her later conversation with Cedric, Ulrica is shown with a thirst for revenge. Now matter how justified, this is not how a good victim is supposed to act. According to Scott, Rebecca’s amazing personality is defined by “a proud humility”, “passive fortitude, and in that strong reliance on Heaven natural to great and generous characters” (Chapter 14). It’s summed up in one of her final lines to Bois-Guilbert: “Not in this last extremity canst thou move me one hair’s-breadth from my resting place.” (Chapter 43)
It pains me to criticize Rebecca because she’s legit one of my favorite characters of all time full stop, BUT.
Understanding Ulrica as the other side to Rebecca’s coin does sour the reading of Rebecca as a feminist icon way ahead of her time a little, because it qualifies Scott’s praise of her and her incredibly positive reception by readers (see intro 2nd edition).
The introduction from 1830 actually gives some really interesting insight into what Scott thought of Rebecca:
“The author may, in passing, observe, that he thinks a character of a highly virtuous and lofty stamp, is degraded rather than exalted by an attempt to reward virtue with temporal prosperity. Such is not the recompense which Providence has deemed worthy of suffering merit, and it is a dangerous and fatal doctrine to teach young persons, the most common readers of romance, that rectitude of conduct and of principle are either naturally allied with, or adequately rewarded by, the gratification of our passions, or attainment of our wishes.”
To Scott, Rebecca is so awesome because she does the morally correct thing regardless of risk or reward.
I’m NOT disagreeing with him here – that is an awesome character trait, and it’s part of what I love about Rebecca. As a 21st century woman, Rebecca’s experiences resonate with me to an astonishing degree. Her reactions to experiences of sexualized violence, of gender-based discrimination, are really fucking badass and make me wish I had her intelligence and courage. But just because Rebecca has held up amazingly well, that does not mean that she isn’t also written to reflect outdated and harmful ideas about women.
And this less than glowing side of Rebecca’s character only shows when you take Urfried into account.
“Bois-Guilbert,” answered the Jewess, “thou knowest not the heart of woman, or hast only conversed with those who are lost to her best feelings. I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles hast thou displayed more of thy vaunted courage, than has been shown by woman when called upon to suffer by affection or duty. I am myself a woman, tenderly nurtured, naturally fearful of danger, and impatient of pain—yet, when we enter those fatal lists, thou to fight and I to suffer, I feel the strong assurance within me, that my courage shall mount higher than thine.” (Chapter 39, aka the Best And Sexiest Chapter)
It’s a badass speech! She's a badass! We love Rebecca!
But when you take Ulrica into account, it becomes so sad. Ulrica is characterized as lesser, because she would not die for purity, she would not suffer for morality. She garners no sympathy, even from Cedric, whose care for his people is, to quote Rebecca “ever in thy  mouth, but never in thy heart nor in thy practice”.
“I bid thee avaunt!—touch me not, stay me not!—The sight of Front-de-Bœuf himself is less odious to me than thou, degraded and degenerate as thou art.”
“Be it so,” said Ulrica, no longer interrupting him; “go thy way, and forget, in the insolence of thy superority, that the wretch before thee is the daughter of thy father’s friend.—Go thy way—if I am separated from mankind by my sufferings—separated from those whose aid I might most justly expect—not less will I be separated from them in my revenge!—No man shall aid me, but the ears of all men shall tingle to hear of the deed which I shall dare to do!—Farewell!—thy scorn has burst the last tie which seemed yet to unite me to my kind—a thought that my woes might claim the compassion of my people.”
As she is denied victimhood, Ulrica is denied honorable retribution. Her revenge is striking, but not heroic. To Scott’s credit, most of his characters combine flaws with sympathetic traits, and Ulrica is one of them. She certainly goes out powerfully:
“The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was for a long time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing her arms abroad with wild exultation, as if she reined empress of the conflagration which she had raised.” (Chapter 32)
But she is not mourned, even though her actions turn the tide of the battle.
I just wonder, given that adaptations of Ivanhoe looove to expand on the theme of redemption with Brian’s character, when Urfried will get the sympathetic portrayal and narrative redemption she deserves.
Source: Doezema J: Loose women or lost women? the re-emergence of the myth of white slavery in contemporary discourses of trafficking in women. Gender Issues. 1999;18(1):23-50.
discoholicmusic
2087
snowghoul
stormborns
janainaart
gummygunk
