ページの画像
PDF
ePub

ture. I can trace, even to childhood, a pleasure But the Cavaliers and Roundheads, whom I atderived from Dodsley's account of Shenstone's tempted to summon up to tenant this beautiful Leasowes, and 1 envied the poet much more for region, had for the public neither the novelty the pleasure of accomplishing the objects de-nor the peculiar interest of the primitive Hightailed in his friend's sketch of his grounds, than landers. This, perhaps, was scarcely to be exfor the possession of pipe, crook, flock, and pected, considering that the general mind symPhillis to the boot of all. My memory, also, te-pathises readily and at once with the stamp nacious of quaint expressions, still retained a which nature herself has affixed upon the manphrase which it had gathered from an old al-ners of a people living in a simple and patrimanack of Charles the Second's time (when archal state; whereas it has more difficulty in every thing down to almanacks affected to be understanding or interesting itself in manners smart), in which the reader, in the month of which are founded upon those peculiar habits of June, is advised for health's sake to take a walk thinking or acting, which are produced by the of a mile or two before breakfast, and, if he can progress of society. We could read with pleapossibly so manage, to let his exercise be taken sure the tale of the adventures of a Cossac or a upon his own land. Mongol Tartar, while we only wonder and stare over those of the lovers in the 'Pleasing Chinese History,' where the embarrassments turn upon difficulties arising out of unintelligible delicacies peculiar to the customs and manners of that affected people.

With the satisfaction of having attained the fulfilment of an early and long-cherished hope, I commenced my improvements, as delightful in their progress as those of the child who first makes a dress for a new doll. The nakedness of the land was in time hidden by woodlands of considerable extent-the smallest of possible cottages was progressively expanded into a sort of dream of a mansion-house, whimsical in the exterior, but convenient within. Nor did I forget what is the natural pleasure of every man who has been a reader, I mean the filling the shelves of a tolerably large library. All these objects I kept in view, to be executed as convenience should serve; and although I knew many years must elapse before they could be attained, I was of a disposition to comfort myself with the Spanish proverb, Time and I against any two.'

[ocr errors]

The difficult and indispensable point, of finding a permanent subject of occupation, was now at length attained; but there was annexed to it the necessity of becoming again a candidate for public favour; for, as I was turned improver on the earth of the every-day world, it was under condition that the small tenement of Parnassus, which might be accessible to my labours, should not remain uncultivated.

The cause of my failure had, however, a far deeper root. The manner, or style, which, by its novelty, attracted the public in an unusual degree, had now, after having been three times before them, exhausted the patience of the reader, and began in the fourth to lose its charms. The reviewers may be said to have apostrophised the author in the language of Parnell's Edwin:

[ocr errors]

And here reverse the charm, he cries,
And let it fairly now suffice,

The gambol has been shown.

The licentious combination of rhymes, in a manner not perhaps very congenial to our Janguage, had not been confined to the author. Indeed, in most similar cases, the inventors of such novelties have their reputation destroyed by their own imitators, as Acteon fell under his own dogs. The present author, like Bobadil, had taught his trick of fence to a hundred gentlemen (and ladies), who could fence very nearly, or quite, as well as himself. For this there was - 1 meditated, at first, a poem on the subject of no remedy; the harmony became tiresome and Bruce, in which I made some progress, but after-ordinary, and both the original inventor and his wards judged it advisable to lay it aside, sup-invention must have fallen into contempt, if he posing that an English story might have more had not found out another road to public favour. novelty; in consequence, the precedence was given to 'Rokeby.'

What has been said of the metre only, must be considered to apply equally to the structure of If subject and scenery could have influenced the Poem and of the style. The very best pasthe fate of a poem, that of 'Rokeby' should sages of any popular style are not, perhaps, sushave been eminently distinguished; for the ceptible of imitation, but they may be approached grounds belonged to a dear friend, with whom by men of talent; and those who are less able to I had lived in habits of intimacy for many years, copy them, at least lay hold of their peculiar feaand the place itself united the romantic beauties tures, so as to produce a burlesque instead of a seof the wilds of Scotland with the rich and smil-rious copy. In either way, the effect of it is rening aspect of the southern portion of the island. dered cheap and common; and, in the latter case,

ridiculous to boot. The evil consequences to an author's reputation are at least as fatal as those which befall a composer, when his melody falls into the hands of the street ballad-singer.

[blocks in formation]

How happily the days of Thalaba went by!

Yet, though conscious that I must be, in the

Of the unfavourable species of imitation, the author's style gave room to a very large number, owing to an appearance of facility to which some of those who used the measure unques-opinion of good judges, inferior to the place I tionably leaned too far. The effect of the more favourable imitations, composed by persons of talent, was almost equally unfortunate to the original minstrel, by showing that they could overshoot him with his own bow. In short, the popularity which once attended the School, as it was called, was now fast decaying.

had for four or five years held in letters, and
feeling alike that the latter was one to which I
had only a temporary right, I could not brook
the idea of relinquishing literary occupation,
which had been so long my chief employment.
Neither was I disposed to chuse the alternative
of sinking into a mere editor, and commentator,
though that was a species of labour which I had
practised, and to which I was attached. But I
could not endure to think that I might not, whe-
ther known or concealed, do something of more
importance. My inmost thoughts were those of
the Trojan Captain in the galley race,—

Non jam prima peto Mnestheus; neque vincere certo:
Extremos pudeat rediisse: hoc vincite, cives,
Quanquam 0,-Sed: superent quibus hoc, Neptune, dedisti:
Et prohibete nefas.

Eneid. lib. V, lin. 294.

Besides all this, to have kept his ground at the crisis when 'Rokeby' appeared, its author ought to have put forth his utmost strength, and to have possessed at least all his original advantages, for a mighty and unexpected rival was advancing on the stage-a rival not in poetical powers only, but in that of attracting popularity, in which the present writer had preceded better men than himself. [The reader will easily see that Byron is here meant, who, after a little velitation of no great promise, now appeared as a serious candidate, in the First Canto of Childe Harold.'] I was astonished at the power evinced by that «I had, indeed, some private reasons for my work, which neither the 'Hours of Idleness,' nor 'Quanquam O,' which were not worse than the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,' had those of Mnestheus. I have already hinted that prepared me to expect from its author. There the materials were collected for a poem on the was a depth in his thought, an eager abundance subject of Bruce, and fragments of it had been in his diction, which argued full confidence in shown to some of my friends, and received with the inexhaustible resources of which he felt him- applause. Notwithstanding, therefore, the emiself possessed; and there was some appearance of nent success of Byron, and the great chance of that labour of the file, which indicates that the his taking the wind out of my sails, there was, author is conscious of the necessity of doing I judged, a species of cowardice in desisting every justice to his work, that it may pass war- from the task which I had undertaken, and it rant. Lord Byron was also a traveller, a man was time enough to retreat when the battle should whose ideas were fired by having seen, in distant | be more decidedly lost. The sale of 'Rokeby,' scenes of difficulty and danger, the places whose excepting as compared with that of The Lady very names are recorded in our bosoms as the of the Lake,' was in the highest degree respectshrines of ancient poetry. For his own misfor-able, and as it included fifteen hundred quartos, tune, perhaps, but certainly to the high increase in those quarto-reading days, the trade had no of his poetical character, nature had mixed in reason to be dissatisfied." Lord Byron's system those passions which agitate The poem mentioned in the preceding extract, the human heart with most violence, and which as having been commenced on a subject conmay be said to have hurried his bright career to nected with the history of Bruce, was soon afteran early close. There would have been little wards completed under the title of «The Lord of wisdom in measuring my force with so formid- the Isles, and published in 1814. The impresable an antagonist; and I was as likely to tire sion made by this work was far inferior to that of playing the second fiddle in the concert, as my of any of the preceding productions of our auaudience of hearing me. Age also was advanc- thor. The different bent which had been given ing. I was growing insensible to those subjects to the poet's mind by the production of Waof excitation by which youth is agitated. I had verley,' would in itself be quite sufficient to acaround me the most pleasant but least exciting count for the inferiority which is throughout of all society, that of kind friends and an affec-perceptible; but as a curious specimen of the intionate family. My circle of employments was a genuity with which even the strongest minds

[ocr errors]

will apply themselves to discover or imagine extraneous causes for the failure of their weakest productions, we shall extract a few lines from the Introduction to the new edition of this poem, published in 1830, in which the author gives us au insight into his own feelings and opinions on the subject.

cannot be said to have made a favourable impres sion on the public, the sale of fifteen thousand copies enabled the author to retreat from the field with the honours of war.

In the mean time, what was necessarily to be considered as a failure, was much reconciled to my feelings by the success attending my attemp: in another species of composition. Waverley' had, under strict incognito, taken its flight from the press, just before I set out upon the voyage already mentioned; it had now made its way to popularity, and the success of that work and the volumes which followed, was sufficient to have | satisfied a greater appetite for applause than I have at any time possessed.»

In 1814 Mr Scott also published a prose work, entitled, The Border Antiquities of England and Scotland, with Descriptions and Illustrations," and brought out a new edition of Swift, with a biographical memoir and annotations, in addition to which he supplied illustrations to the « History of Northern Antiquities,» published by Mr Jameson.

[ocr errors]

"

I could hardly have chosen a subject more popular in Scotland, than any thing connected with the Bruce's history, unless I had attempted that of Wallace. But I am decidedly of opinion, that a popular, or what is called a taking title, though well qualified to ensure the publishers against loss, and clear their shelves of the original impression, is rather apt to be hazardous than otherwise to the reputation of the author. He who attempts a subject of distinguished popularity, has not the privilege of awakening the enthusiasm of his audience; on the contrary, it is already awakened, and glows, it may be, more ardently than that of the author himself. In this case, the warmth of the author is inferior to that of the party whom he addresses, who has, therefore, little chance of being, in Bayes's phrase, These were followed by two performances, one 'elevated and surprised' by what he has thought in prose and the other in verse, the first entitled of with more enthusiasm than the writer. The Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, and the other sense of this risk, joined to the consciousness of The Battle of Waterloo.» The former met striving against wind and tide, made the task of with great and deserved success. With a vigorous, composing the proposed Poem somewhat heavy though easy and playful style, it unites a keen and hopeless; but, like the prize-fighter in 'As spirit of observation and discrimination, which You Like It,' I was to wrestle for my reputation, gives reality to the descriptions and interest to and not neglect any advantage. In a most agree- the incidents; the latter was in every respect a able pleasure-voyage, which I have tried to com- failure. It is singular that one of the most spiritmemorate in the Introduction to the new editioned accounts given of the Field of Waterloo is in of the 'Pirate, now preparing for the press, I visited, in social and friendly company, the coasts and islands of Scotland, and made myself acAbout the same period appeared two poems, quainted with the localities of which I meant to which, although published anonymously, were treat. But this voyage which was in every other soon attributed to Walter Scott, and afterwards effect so delightful, was in its conclusion saddened acknowledged by him. These were the Bridal by one of those strokes of fate which so often of Triermain » and « Harold the Dauntless.» The mingle themselves with our pleasures. The ac- following are the circumstances attending the complished and excellent person who had re- publication of these works, as detailed by the commended to me the subject for The Lay of author in the introduction to the Lord of the Isles, the Last Minstrel,' and to whom I proposed to already quoted: «I may as well add in this place, inscribe what I suspected might be the close of that being much urged by my intimate friend my poetical labours, was unexpectedly removed now unhappily no more, William Erskine ( a from the world, which she seemed only to have Scottish judge by the title of Lord Kinedder), I visited for purposes of kindness and benevolence. agreed to write the little romantic tale called the It is needless to say how the author's feelings, or Bridal of Triermain,' but it was on the condithe composition of his trifling work, were affected tion that he should make no serious effort to disby a circumstance which occasioned so many own the composition, if report should lay it at tears and so much sorrow. True it is, that "The his door. As he was more than suspected of a Lord of the Isles' was concluded, unwillingly taste for poetry, and as I took care in several and in haste, under the painful feeling of one places to mix something which might resemwho has a task which must be finished, rather ble, as far as was in my power, my friend's feeling than with the ardour of one who endeavours to and manner, the train easily caught, and two perform that task well. Although the Poem large editions were sold. A third being called

Paul's Letters, while the poem on the same subject, by the same author, is dull, heavy, and prosaic.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

same time, all the interest and the beauty which could possibly be assimilated to the manner and spirit of his original. It was his duty, therefore, to reform the rambling, obscure, and intermina

derate their digressions,-to abridge or retrench their prolix or needless descriptions,-and to expunge altogether those feeble and prosaic passages, the rude stupidity of which is so apt to excite the derision of a modern reader: at the same time he was to rival, if he could, the force and vivacity of their minute and varied representations-the characteristic simplicity of their pictures of manners-the energy and conciseness with which they frequently describe great events

for, Lord Kinedder became unwilling to aid any longer a deception which was going further than he expected or desired, and the real author's name was given. Upon another occasion, I sent up another of these trifles, which, like school-ble narratives of the ancient romancers,-to moboys' kites, served to show how the wind of popular taste was setting. The manner was supposed to be that of a rude minstrel, or Scald, in opposition to the Bridal of Triermain,' which was designed to belong rather to the Italian school. This new fugitive piece was called 'Harold the Dauntless;' and I am still astonished at my having committed the gross error of selecting the very name which Lord Byron had made so famous. It encountered rather an odd fate. My ingenious friend, Mr James Hogg, had published, about the same time, a work called the Poetic Mirror', containing imitations of the principal living poets. There was in it a very good imitation of my own style, which bore such a resemblance to Harold the Dauntless', that there was no discovering the original from the imitation; and I believe that many who took the trouble of thinking upon the subject, were rather of opinion that my ingenious friend was the true, and not the fictitious Simon Pure. Since this period, which was in the year 1816, the author has not been an intruder on the public by any poetical work of importance.

We shall now attempt to offer a few critical observations on the three most deservedly popular poems of Walter Scott, viz. The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, and the Lady of the

Lake. /

The LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL is an endeavour to transfer the refinements of modern poetry to the matter and the manner of the ancient metrical romance. The author, enamoured of the lofty visions of chivalry, and partial to the strains in which they were formerly embodied, employed all the resources of his genius in endeavouring to recall them to the favour and admiration of the public, and in adapting to the taste of modern readers a species of poetry, which was once the delight of the courtly, but which has long ceased to gladden any other eyes than those of the scholar and the antiquary. This is a romance, therefore, composed by a minstrel of the present day, or such a romance as we may suppose would have been written in modern times, if that style of composition had been cultivated, and partaken, consequently, of the improvements which every branch of literature has received since the time of its desertion.

Upon this supposition, it was evidently the author's business to retain all that was good, and to reject all that was bad, in the models upon which he was to form himself; adding, at the

and the lively colouring and accurate drawing by which they give the effect of reality to every scene they undertake to delineate. In executing this arduous task, he was permitted to avail himself of all the variety of style and manner which had been sanctioned by the ancient practice, and bound to embellish his performance with all the graces of diction and versification which could be reconciled to the simplicity and familiarity of the minstrel's song.

The success which attended Mr Scott's efforts in the execution of this adventurous essay is well known; -he produced very beautiful and entertaining poem, in a style which might fairly be considered as original, and the public approbation afforded the most flattering evidence of the genius of the author. Perhaps, indeed, his partiality for the strains of antiquity imposed a little upon the severity of his judgment, and impaired the beauty of his imitation, by directing his attention rather to what was characteristic, than to what was unexceptionable in his originals. Though he spared too many of their faults, however, he improved upon their beauties, and while it was regretted by many, that the feuds of border chieftains should have monopolized as much poetry as might have served to immortalize the whole baronage of the empire, yet it produced a stronger inclination to admire the interest and magnificence which he contrived to communicate to a subject so unpromising.

MARMION has more tedious and flat passages, and more ostentation of historical and antiquarian lore, than its predecessor; but it has also greater richness and variety, both of character and incident; and, if it has less sweetness and pathos in the softer passages, it has certainly more vehemence and force of colouring in the loftier and busier representations of action and emotion. The place of the prologuizing minstrel is but ill supplied, indeed, by the epistolary dissertations which are prefixed to each book of this poem; but there is more airiness and spirit in the lighter

delineations, and the story, if not more skilfully conducted, is at least better complicated, and extended through a wider field of adventure. The characteristics of both, however, are evidently the same;—a broken narrative—a redundancy of minute description-bursts of unequal and energetic poetry-and a general tone of spirit and animation, unchecked by timidity or affectation, and unchastened by any great delicacy of taste, or elegance of fancy.

The Lady of the LAKE is more polished in its diction, and more regular in its versification, than the author's preceding poems; the story is constructed with infinitely more skill and address; there is a greater proportion of pleasing and tender passages, with much less antiquarian detail, and, upon the whole, a larger variety of characters, more artfully and judiciously contrasted. There is nothing so fine, perhaps, as the battle in Marmion, or so picturesque as some of the scattered sketches in the Lay of the Last Minstrel; but there is a richness and a spirit in the Lady of the Lake which does not pervade either of these poems; a profusion of incident, and a shifting brilliancy of colouring, that reminds us of the witchery of Ariosto, and a constant elasticity and occasional energy, which seem to belong more peculiarly to the author himself.

|

At this period Mr Scott had outstripped all his poetical competitors in the race of popularity. The mighty star of Byron had not yet risen; and we doubt whether any British poet had ever bad so many of his books sold, or so many of his verses read and admired by such a multitude of persons in so short a time as Walter Scott. Confident in the force and originality of his own genius, he was not afraid to avail himself of diction and of sentiment, wherever they appeared to be beautiful and impressive, using them, however, at all times, with the skill and spirit of an inventor; and, quite certain that he could not be mistaken for a plagiarist or imitator, he made free use of that great treasury of characters, images, and expressions, which had been accumulated by the most celebrated of his predecessors; at the same time that the rapidity of his transitions, the novelty of his combinations, and the spirit and variety of his own thoughts and inventions, show plainly that he was a borrower from any thing but poverty, and took only what he could have given if he had been born in an earlier age. The great secret of his popularity at the time, and the leading characteristic of his poetry, consisted evidently in this, that he made use of more common topics, images, and expressions, than any original poet of later times; and, at the same time, displayed more genius and originality than any recent author who had hitherto worked in

the same materials. By the latter peculiarity, he entitled himself to the admiration of every description of readers; by the former he came recommended in an especial manner to the inexperienced, at the hazard of some little offence to the more cultivated and fastidious.

In the choice of his subjects, for example, he did not attempt to interest merely by fine observations or pathetic sentiment, but took the assistance of a story, and enlisted the reader's curiosity among his motives for attention. Then his characters were all selected from the most common dramatis personæ of poetry-kings, warriors, knights, outlaws, nuns, minstrels, secluded damsels, wizards, and true lovers. He never ventured to carry us into the cottage of the peasant, like Crabbe or Cowper; nor into the bosom of domestic privacy, like Campbell; nor among creatures of the imagination, like Southey or Darwin. Such personages, assuredly, are not in themselves so interesting or striking as those to which our poet devoted himself; but they are far less familiar in poetry, and are therefore more likely to engage the attention of those to whom poetry is familiar. In the management of the passions, again, he pursued the same popular and comparatively easy course. He raised all the most familiar and poetical emotions, by the most obvious aggravations, and in the most compendious and judicious way. He dazzled the reader with the splendour, and even warmed him with the transient heat of various affections; but he nowhere fairly kindled him into enthusiasm, or melted him into tenderness. Writing for the world at large (unlike Byron), he wisely abstained from attempting to raise any passion to a height to which worldly people could not be transported, and contented himself with giving his reader the chance of feeling as a brave, kind, and affectionate gentleman should often feel in the ordinary course of his existence, without trying to breathe into him either that lofty enthusiasm which disdains the ordinary business and amusements of life, or that quiet and deep sensibility which unfits for all its pursuits. With regard to diction and imagery, too, it is quite obvious that he aimed not at writing in either a pure or very common style. He seems to have been anxious only to strike, and to be easily and universally understood; and, for this purpose, to have culled the most glittering and conspicuous expressions of the most popular authors, and to have interwoven them in splendid confusion with his own nervous diction and irregular versification. Indifferent whether he coins or borrows, and drawing with equal freedom on his memory and his imagination, he went boldly forward, in full reliance on a never-failing abundance, and dazzled, with his

« 前へ次へ »