'Marmion' is avowedly a descriptive poem. It is a series of skilful
and impressive pictures, not only remarkable in themselves, but
conspicuous in their own kind in poetical literature. Scott is said
to have been deficient, or at any rate imperfectly trained, in
certain sense activities, but there is no denying his quick
perception of colour and his strong sense of the leading points in a
landscape. Even minute features are seized and utilized with ease
and precision, while the larger elements of a scene are depicted
with breadth, sense of proportion, and clearness and impressiveness
of arrangement. This holds true whether the description is merely a
vivid presentment of what the imagination of the poet calls from the
remote past, or a delineation of what has actually come under his
notice. Norham at twilight, with the solitary warder on the
battlements, and Crichtoun castle, as Scott himself saw it,
instantly commend themselves by their realistic vigour and their
consistent verisimilitude. Any visitor to Norham will still be able
to imagine the stir and the imposing spectacle described in the
opening stanzas of the first canto; and it is a pleasure to follow
Scott's minute and faithful picture of Crichtoun by examining the
imposing ruin as it stands at the present day. Then it is
impossible not to feel that the Edinburgh of the sixteenth century
was exactly as it is depicted in the poem, and that the troops on
the Borough Moor were disposed as seen by the trained military eye
of Sir Walter Scott. It would be difficult to find anywhere a more
striking ancient stronghold than Tantallon, nor would it be easy to
conceive a more appropriate scene for that grim and exciting morning
interview in which the venerable Douglas found that he had harboured
a recreant knight. Above all, there is the great battle scene,
standing alone in literature for its carefully detailed delineation-
-its persistent minuteness, its rapidity of movement, its balanced
effects, its energetic purpose--and surpassing everything in modern
verse for its vivid Homeric realism. Fifteen years before, as we
have seen, Scott had the progress of the battle in his mind's eye,
and at length he produced his description as if he had been present
in the character of a skilful and interested spectator. There are
envious people who decline to admit that Scott discovered his
scenery, and who contend that others knew all about it before and
appreciated it in their own way. Be it so; and yet the fact remains
that Scott likewise saw and appreciated in the way peculiar to him,
and thereby enabled his numerous readers to share his enjoyment. A
very interesting and suggestive account of the new popularity given
to the Flodden district by the publication of 'Marmion' will be
found in Lockhart's Life, iii. 12. In the autumn of 1812 Scott
visited Rokeby, doing the journey on horseback, along with his
eldest boy and girl on ponies. The following is an episode of the
way:--
'Halting at Flodden to expound the field of battle to his young
folks, he found that "Marmion" had, as might have been expected,
benefited the keeper of the public-house there very largely; and the
village Boniface, overflowing with gratitude, expressed his anxiety
to have a Scott's Head for his sign-post. The poet demurred to this
proposal, and assured mine host that nothing could be more
appropriate than the portraiture of a foaming tankard, which already
surmounted his doorway. "Why, the painter man has not made an ill
job," said the landlord, "but I would fain have something more
connected with the book that has brought me so much good custom."
He produced a well-thumbed copy, and handing it to the author,
begged he would at least suggest a motto from the Tale of Flodden
Field. Scott opened the book at the death-scene of the hero, and
his eye was immediately caught by the "inscription" in black
letter:--
"Drink, weary pilgrim, drink, and pray
For the kind soul of Sibyl Grey," &c.
"Well, my friend," said he, "what more would you have? You need but
strike out one letter in the first of these lines, and make your
painter-man, the next time he comes this way, print between the
jolly tankard and your own name:--
'Drink, weary pilgrim, drink, and PAY.'"
Scott was delighted to find, on his return, that this suggestion had
been adopted, and for aught I know the romantic legend may still be
visible.'
The characters in the poem are hardly less vigorous in conception
and presentation than the descriptions. It may be true, as Carlyle
asserts in his ungenerous essay on Scott, that he was inferior to
Shakespeare in delineation of character, but, even admitting that,
we shall still have ample room for approval and admiration of his
work. So far as the purposes of the poem are concerned the various
personages are admirably utilized. We come to know Marmion himself
very intimately, the interest gradually deepening as the real
character of the Palmer and his relations to the hero are steadily
developed. These two take prominent rank with the imaginary
characters of literature. James IV, that 'champion of the dames,'
and likewise undoubted military leader, is faithfully delineated in
accordance with historical records and contemporary estimates.
Those desirous of seeing him as he struck the imagination of a poet
in his own day should read the eulogy passed upon him by Barclay in
his 'Ship of Fools.' The passage in which this occurs is an
interpolation in the division of the poem entitled 'Of the Ruine and
Decay of the Holy Faith Catholique.' The other characters are all
distinctly suited to the parts they have to perform. Acting on the
licence sanctioned by Horatian authority:--
'Atque ita mentitur, sic veris falsa remiscet,
Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum'--
Scott appropriates Sir David Lyndsay to his purpose, presenting him,
even as he presents the stately and venerable Angus, with faithful
and striking picturesqueness. Bishop Douglas is exactly suited to
his share in the development of events; and had room likewise been
found for the Court poet Dunbar--author of James's Epithalamium, the
'Thrissill and the Rois'--it would have been both a fit and a seemly
arrangement. Had Scott remembered that Dunbar was a favourite of
Queen Margaret's he might have introduced him into an interesting
episode. The passage devoted to the Queen herself is exquisite and
graceful, its restrained and effective pathos making a singularly
direct and significant appeal. The other female characters are well
conceived and sustained, while Constance in the Trial scene reaches
an imposing height of dramatic intensity.
After the descriptions and the characterisation, the remaining
important features of the poem are its marked practical irony and
its episodes. Marmion, despite his many excellences, is throughout-
-and for obvious reasons--the victim of a persistent Nemesis. Scott
is much interested in his hero; one fancies that if it were only
possible he would in the end extend his favour to him, and grant him
absolution; but his sense of artistic fitness prevails, and he will
abate no jot of the painful ordeal to which he feels bound to submit
him. Marmion is a knight with a claim to nothing more than the half
of the proverbial qualifications. He is sans peur, but not sans
reproche; and it is one expression of the practical irony that
constantly lurks to assail him that even his fearlessness quails for
a time before the Phantom Knight on Gifford Moor. The whole
attitude of the Palmer is ironical; and, after the bitter parting
with Angus at Tantallon, Marmion is weighted with the depressing
reflection that numerous forces are conspiring against him, and with
the knowledge that it is his old rival De Wilton that has thrown off
the Palmer's disguise and preceded him to the scene of war. In his
last hour the practical irony of his position bears upon him with a
concentration of keen and bitter thrusts. Clare, whom he intended
to defraud, ministers to his last needs; he learns that Constance
died a bitter death at Lindisfarne; and just when he recognises his
greatest need of strength his life speedily ebbs away. There is a
certain grandeur of impressive tragical effort in his last
struggles, as he feels that whatever he may himself have been he
suffers in the end from the merciless machinery of a false
ecclesiastical system. The practical irony follows him even after
his death, for it is a skilful stroke that leaves his neglected
remains on the field of battle and places a nameless stranger in his
stately tomb.
As regards the episodes, it may just be said in a word that they are
appropriate, and instead of retarding the movement of the piece, as
has sometimes been alleged, they serve to give it breadth and
massiveness of effect. Of course, there will always be found those
who think them too long, just as there are those whose narrowness of
view constrains them to wish the Introductions away. If the poet's
conception of Marmion be fully considered, it will be seen that the
Host's Tale is an integral part of his purpose; and there is surely
no need to defend either Sir David Lyndsay's Tale or the weird
display at the cross of Edinburgh. The episode of Lady Heron's
singing carries its own defence in itself, seeing that the song of
'Lochinvar' holds a place of distinction among lyrics expressive of
poetical motion. After all, we must bear in mind that though it
pleases Scott to speak of his tale as flowing on 'wild as cloud, as
stream, as gale,' he was still conscious that he was engaged upon a
poem, and that a poem is regulated by certain artistic laws. If we
strive to grasp his meaning we shall not be specially inclined to
carp at his method. It may at the same time be not unprofitable to
look for a moment at some of the notable criticisms of the poem.