"O hush, my sire! To prayer and tear 820 XXX He took Matilda's hand: 'Dear maid, As blend with him this barbarous scheme? As this to call Matilda wife! The wretched sire beheld aghast - and there Comes hated Mortham for his heir, 850 860 With Rokeby's heiress Redmond's hand. Appall not vengeance and despair. They all shall share destruction's shock;- XXXII 88 The outmost crowd have heard a sound - XXXIII While yet the smoke the deed conceals, ground; But still his struggling force he rears, XXXIV 930 THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN INTRODUCTORY NOTE One of the projects which grew out of the enterprise of the Ballantynes, when Scott was drawn into the toils, was the establishment of the Edinburgh Annual Register, which was to be conducted in opposition to Constable's Edinburgh Review. It was to be mainly historical and annalistic, and the Quarterly Review established shortly after more completely served the purpose of an but Scott infused a little literary spirit into antagonist of the Review, the Register, and amongst other contributions inserted in the first volume, for 1809, some imitations of living poets, one of them taking Scott himself for its model! Meanwhile Rokeby had been started on the stocks; and Scott, who in the ebullition of his active fancy liked to keep two or three varied tasks on hand, bethought himself of one of these fragments, The Vision of Triermain, and conceived the notion of expanding it into a poem, to be published anonymously at the same time with Rokeby, and fathered upon some one of his friends, to complete the mystification. The fragment taken is nearly identical with Canto First of the Bridal, divisions I.-VIII. He hoped especially by this scheme to draw Jeffrey, and elicit from him a criticism which would be unencumbered by the reviewer's relations with the real author. As Erskine had generally been credited with the authorship of the anonymous fragments in the Register, he was asked by Scott to play his part in the plot, and good naturedly lent his aid. 'I shall be very much amused,' he wrote to Scott, 'if the secret is kept and the knowing ones taken in. To prevent any discovery from your prose, what think you of putting down your ideas of what the preface ought to contain, and allowing me to write it over? And perhaps a quizzing review might be concocted. Scott took the hint, and the Introduction to The Bridal of Triermain given below is a mixture of Scott and Erskine, the latter's quotations from the Greek being especially adapted to throwing off the scent those who might naturally attribute the poem to Scott. In his Introduction to The Lord of the Isles, written in 1830, when the secret had long been out, Scott wrote: Being much urged by my intimate friend, now unhappily no more, William Erskine (a Scottish judge, by the title of Lord Kinedder), I agreed to write the little romantic tale called The Bridal of Triermain; but it was on the condition that he should make no serious effort to disown the composition, if report should lay it at his door. As he was more than suspected of a taste for poetry, and as I took care, in several places, to mix something which might resemble (as far as was in my power) my friend's feeling and manner, the train easily caught, and two large editions were sold. A third being called for, Lord Kinedder became unwilling to aid any longer a deception which was going farther than he expected or desired, and the real author's name was given.'1 Scott had taken Morritt into his confidence, but apparently he had not thus treated his intimate correspondent, Lady Louisa Stuart, or Lady Abercorn. With both of these clever women he kept up a bit of fencing, though it is not quite certain that one or the other did not have an inkling of the truth, and so amused herself with playing a like game of hoodwinking. The little book was published almost on the same day as Rokeby, and Scott wrote to Morritt, March 9, 1813; 'I wish you would give the said author of Triermain a hoist to notice, by speaking of him now and then in those parts where a word spoken is sure to 1A statement somewhat at variance with Scott's to Morritt on occasion of a fourth edition. See below. have a hundred echoes. . . . I hear Jeffrey has really bestowed great praise on the poem, and means to give it a place in his review. It has not, he says, my great artery, but there is more attention to style, more elegance and or nament, etc., etc. We will see, however, what he really will say to it in his review, for there is no sure augury from his private conversa tion.' A few days later, when writing to Lady Abercorn, Scott threw in a reference to the poem in a careless fashion. He is sending her some books: The first and most interesting is a spirited imitation of my manner called The Bridal of Triermain. The author is unknown, but it makes some noise among us. The other is a little novel,' and so on with a reference shortly to his own Rokeby. A month later, writing the same lady again, he says, parenthetically, as it were, The Bridal of Triermain is the book which has excited the most interest here. Jeffrey lauds it highly, I am in formed, and is one day to throw it at my head.' Lady Louisa Stuart on her side intimates that she suspects Scott to have written the Bridal, though she reports common rumor to assign it to R. P. Gillies. 6 It was some time before the authorship was rightly placed. Scott and Morritt were disappointed that Jeffrey did not fall into the trap laid for them, but though Scott's name was often mentioned as that of the probable author, the secret was well kept. As late as January, 1814, Scott was writing to Morritt: The fourth edition is at press. The Empress-Dowager of Prussia has expressed such an interest in it, that it will be inscribed to her, in some doggerel sonnet or other, by the unknown author. This is funny enough;' and again to the same friend: As your conscience has very few things to answer for, you must still burthen it with the secret of the Bridal. It is spreading very rapidly, and I have one or two little faery romances which will make a second volume, and which I would wish published, but not with my name. The truth is that this sort of muddling work amuses me, and I am something in the condition of Joseph Surface, who was embarrassed by getting himself too good a reputation; for many things would please people well enough anonymously, which, if they bore me on the title-page, would just give me that sort of ill-name which precedes hanging, and that would be in many respects inconvenient if I thought of again trying a grande opus. I will give you a hundred good reasons when we meet for not owning the Bridal till I either secede entirely from the field of literature, or from that of life.' It is an amusing comment on Scott's willingness to allow others to carry off his honors, when we find him writing in his Journal a dozen years In the Edinburgh Annual Register for the year 1809, Three Fragments were inserted, written in imitation of Living Poets. It must have been apparent that by these prolusions nothing burlesque or disrespectful to the authors was intended, but that they were offered to the public as serious, though certainly very imperfect, imitations of that style of composition by which each of the writers is supposed to be distinguished. As these exercises attracted a greater degree of attention than the author anticipated, he has been induced to complete one of them and present it as a septarate publication. It is not in this place that an examination of the works of the master whom he has here adopted as his model, can, with propriety, be introduced; since his general acquiescence in the favorable suffrage of the public must necessarily be inferred from the attempt he has now made. He is induced, by the nature of his subject, to offer a few remarks on what has been called romantic poetry; the popularity of which has been revived in the present day, under the auspices, and by the unparalleled success, of one individual. The original purpose of poetry is either religious or historical, or, as must frequently happen, a mixture of both. To modern readers the poems of Homer have many of the features of pure romance; but in the estimation of his contemporaries, they probably derived their chief value from their supposed historical authenticity. The same may be generally said of the poetry of all early ages. The marvels and miracles which the poet blends with his song do not exceed in number or extravagance the figments of the historians of the same period of society; and indeed, the difference betwixt poetry and prose, as the vehicles of historical truth, is always of late introduction. Poets, under various denominations of Bards, Scalds, Chroniclers, and so forth, are the first historians of all nations. Their intention is to relate the events they have witnessed, or the traditions that have reached them; and they clothe the relation in rhyme, merely as the means of rendering it more solemn in the narrative, or more easily committed to memory. But as the poetical historian improves in the art of conveying information, the authenticity of his narrative unavoidably declines. He is tempted to dilate and dwell upon the events that are interesting to his imagination, and, conscious how indifferent his audience is to the naked truth of his poem, his history gradually be comes a romance. It is in this situation that those epics are found, which have been generally regarded the standards of poetry; and it has happened somewhat strangely that the moderns have pointed out as the characteristics and peculiar excellencies of narrative poetry, the very circumstances which the authors themselves adopted, only because their art involved the duties of the historian as well as the poet. It cannot be believed, for example, that Homer selected the siege of Troy as the most appropriate subject for poetry; his purpose was to write the early history of his country; the event he has chosen, though not very fruitful in varied incident, nor perfectly well adapted for poetry, was nevertheless combined with traditionary and genealogical anecdotes extremely interesting to those who were to listen to him; and this he has adorned by the exertions of a genius which, if it has been equalled, has certainly been never surpassed. It was not till comparatively a late period that the general accuracy of his narrative, or his purpose in composing it, was brought into question. Δοκεῖ πρῶτος [ὁ ̓Αναξαγόρας] (καθά φησι Φαβορῖνος ἐν παντοδαπῇ Ἱστορία) τὴν Ὁμήρου ποίησιν ἀποφήνασθαι εἶναι περὶ ἀρετῆς καὶ δικαιοσύνης.1 But whatever theories might be framed by speculative men, his work was of an historical, not of an allegorical nature. 'Evavτίλλετο μετὰ τοῦ Μέντεω καὶ ὅπου ἑκάστοτε ἀφίκοιτο, πάντα τὰ ἐπιχώρια διερωτᾶτο, καὶ ἱστορέων ἐπυνθάνετο· εἰκὸς δέ μιν ἦν καὶ μνημοσύνην TáνTWV Yрápeolau. Instead of recommending the choice of a subject similar to that of Homer, it was to be expected that critics should have exhorted the poets of these latter days to adopt or invent a narrative in itself more susceptible of poetical ornament, and to avail themselves of that advantage in order to compensate, in some degree, the inferiority of genius. The contrary course has been inculcated by almost all the writers upon the Epopaia; with what success, the fate of Homer's numerous imitators may best show. The ultimum supplicium of criticism was in1 Diogenes Laertius, lib. ii. Anaxag. Segm. II. Homeri Vita, in Herod. Henr. Steph. 1570, p. 356. flicted on the author if he did not choose a subject which at once deprived him of all claim to originality, and placed him, if not in actual contest, at least in fatal comparison, with those giants in the land whom it was most his interest to avoid. The celebrated receipt for writing an epic poem, which appeared in The Guardian,1 was the first instance in which common sense was applied to this department of poetry; and, indeed, if the question be considered on its own merits, we must be satisfied that narrative poetry, if strictly confined to the great occurrences of history, would be deprived of the individual interest which it is so well calculated to excite. Modern poets may therefore be pardoned in seeking simpler subjects of verse, more interesting in proportion to their simplicity. Two or three figures, well grouped, suit the artist better than a crowd, for whatever purpose assembled. For the same reason, a scene immediately presented to the imagination, and directly brought home to the feelings, though involving the fate of but one or two persons, is more favorable for poetry than the political struggles and convulsions which influence the fate of kingdoms. The former are within the reach and comprehension of all, and, if depicted with vigor, seldom fail to fix attention: The other if more sublime, are more vague and distant, less capable of being distinctly understood, and infinitely less capable of exciting those sentiments which it is the very purpose of poetry to inspire. To generalize is always to destroy effect. We would, for example, be more interested in the fate of an individual soldier in combat, than in the grand event of a general action; with the happiness of two lovers raised from misery and anxiety to peace and union, than with the successful exertions of a whole nation. From what causes this may originate, is a separate and obviously an immaterial consideration. Before ascribing this peculiarity to causes decidedly and odiously selfish, it is proper to recollect that while men see only a limited space, and while 1 The Guardian, No. 78. POPE. their affections and conduct are regulated, not by aspiring to an universal good, but by exert ing their power of making themselves and others happy within the limited scale allotted to each individual, so long will individual his tory and individual virtue be the readier and more accessible road to general interest and attention; and, perhaps, we may add, that it is the more useful, as well as the more accessible, inasmuch as it affords an example capable of being easily imitated. According to the author's idea of Romantic Poetry, as distinguished from Epic, the former comprehends a fictitious narrative, framed and combined at the pleasure of the writer; beginning and ending as he may judge best; which neither exacts nor refuses the use of supernat ural machinery; which is free from the technical rules of the Epée; and is subject only to those which good sense, good taste, and good morals apply to every species of poetry without exception. The date may be in a remote age, or in the present; the story may detail the adventures of a prince or of a peasant. In a word, the author is absolute master of his country and its inhabitants, and everything is permitted to him, excepting to be heavy or prosaic, for which, free and unembarrassed as he is, he has no manner of apology. Those, it is probable, will be found the peculiarities of this species of composition; and before joining the outcry against the vitiated taste that fosters and encourages it, the justice and grounds of it ought to be made perfectly apparent. If the want of sieges and battles and great military evolutions, in our poetry, is complained of, let us reflect that the campaigns and heroes of our days are perpetuated in a record that neither requires nor admits of the aid of fiction; and if the complaint refers to the inferiority of our bards, let us pay a just tribute to their modesty, limiting them, as it does, to subjects which, however indifferently treated, have still the interest and charm of novelty, and which thus prevents them from adding insipidity to their other more insuperable defects. |