TALES OF THE CRUSADERS
The two stories published simultaneously under this title are widely
different in character. In 'The Betrothed,' the reader gets no glimpse
of the Holy Land, though he is amply compensated by a view of some of
the most delightful portions of picturesque Wales. In 'The Talisman,'
on the contrary, not only is the whole of the stage-setting in
Palestine, but our old friend, Richard the Lion-Hearted, who made such
strong appeals to our sympathies in 'Ivanhoe,' appears once more on the
scene. Perhaps this fact accounts for the great popularity of 'The
Talisman,' which has always gone hand in hand with 'Ivanhoe,' in the
estimation of the younger readers, at least, and possibly the older
ones, especially in England and America, as among the most attractive
of Scott's novels. 'The Betrothed' is no more a tale of the Crusades
than is 'Ivanhoe.' In the former the Constable de Lacy is supposed to
be absent in the Holy Land a few years and returns in disguise. King
Richard does the same in 'Ivanhoe.'
James Ballantyne, who was always a candid critic, found so much fault
with 'The Betrothed' that Scott, bitterly disappointed, decided to
cancel it altogether. The sheets were hung up in Ballantyne's
warehouse, while Scott started a new tale which should be really a
story of the Crusades. Ballantyne was as much pleased with 'The
Talisman' as he had been disappointed with {366} its predecessor. Both
author and printer hesitated to destroy the sheets of an entire edition
of the earlier production, and it was finally decided that 'The
Talisman' was such a masterpiece that it might be relied upon to 'take
the other under its wing.' The publication of the two volumes as the
'Tales of the Crusaders' seemed to justify Ballantyne's faith, for,
says Lockhart, 'The brightness of "The Talisman" dazzled the eyes of
the million as to the defects of the twin story.' Whether this opinion
would be endorsed by careful readers of to-day is doubtful, for 'The
Betrothed' has some excellent characters, notably Eveline Berenger,
Wilkin Flammock, and his daughter Rose, Hugo de Lacy, and his
high-minded nephew Damian. Moreover, Scott here adds to his 'country'
a bit of the United Kingdom, which he had not previously touched, and
does it with his usual charm.
The novelist's information regarding Welsh history and antiquities was
derived largely from conversations with his friend, the Rev. John
Williams, Archdeacon of Cardigan, who had made a special study of the
subject. But he had always felt an interest in that region. 'There
are,' he writes to Joanna Bailie in 1814, 'few countries I long so much
to see as Wales. The first time I set out to see it I was caught by
the way and married. God help me! The next time, I went to London and
spent all my money there. What will be my third interruption, I do not
know, but the circumstances seem ominous.' Whether he actually saw the
country before writing the novel is doubtful. He did visit it,
however, in August of 1825, just after 'The Betrothed' was published,
and stopped at Llangollen, where he paid a visit to the {367} famous
'Ladies' of that place. These two old ladies, one seventy and the
other sixty-five when Scott saw them, had 'eloped' together from
Ireland, when they were young girls, one of them dressed as a footman
in buckskin breeches. Valuing their liberty above all the allurements
of matrimony, they made a secret journey to Wales, and for fifty years
lived a quiet and comfortable life in the beautiful vale of Llangollen.
Local tradition assigns this lovely valley as the scene of 'The
Betrothed.' Although this may be doubted, it is nevertheless fairly
representative of what Scott evidently had in mind. The river Dee
winds among a maze of low, partially wooded, and well-rounded hilltops,
here and there finding its way through green meadows, set off by hedges
of full-grown trees, and at each turn glistening in the sun like a
broad ribbon of silver.
I was induced to walk up a long sloping hillside for a distance of
about three miles from the village, and was rewarded at the summit by a
superb view of northern Wales, for many miles in every direction, and
at the same time saw the ruins of the ancient Castell Dinas Bran.
This, or something very like it, must have been the Garde Doloureuse of
the novel. It certainly had all the natural advantages claimed for
that ancient Welsh stronghold, for no army would have found it easy to
ascend that hill in the face of a determined garrison. The ruin has
the indications also of having been well fortified by the art of man,
its walls enclosing an area two hundred and ninety feet long by one
hundred and forty feet wide.
The castle may have been built by the Britons before the Roman
invasion. A well-founded tradition fixes it {368} as the seat of
Eliseg, Prince of Powys, in the eighth century, and it figures in
actual history as early as 1200, when it was the residence of a
turbulent Welsh baron named Madog.
At Welshpool, directly to the south and near the English border, we
visited the magnificent park and castle of the Earl of Powis. It
stands on the site of the ancient Castell Coch, or Red Castle, famous
as the seat of the great Welsh hero, Gwenwynwyn, who flourished in the
latter part of the twelfth and beginning of the thirteenth century.
That hero, whom Scott calls Gwenwyn, it will be remembered, upon seeing
for the first time the beautiful damsel of sixteen, Eveline Berenger,
the only child of his greatest rival and the heir of the strong
fortress which he coveted, promptly resolved to marry her, thus
starting the train of events which are recorded in the novel.
[Illustration: POWIS CASTLE, WALES]
The present Powis Castle Park is a magnificent demesne of nearly a
thousand acres. Its most important portion is a great deer-park, in
the midst of which stands the imposing modern palace. The herds of
deer quietly feeding on the lawn were kind enough to pose for me, when
I made a picture of the castle, and added greatly to its picturesque
aspect. On the south, the sloping ground has been cut into broad and
beautiful terraces, surmounted by huge yews, trimmed smoothly in
conical form. The stone walls are broken by a series of arches, above
which are balustrades and statuary in great variety. Clinging vines
and garden flowers of every description add colour to the beauty of the
arrangement. Below the terraces is a gentle slope, planted with fruit
trees, and then a level lawn, in the {369} midst of which is a stately
elm. The whole is a triumph of landscape gardening which would have
amazed the famous Gwenwynwyn.
Following the course of the tale our next objective was the city of
Gloucester, the crowning glory of which is the great cathedral, founded
by the Saxon earl, Osric, in 680 A.D. The massive Norman nave was
commenced in 1088 and the fine choir was completed in the fourteenth
century. The great east window, measuring seventy-two feet in height,
thirty-eight feet in width, and containing two thousand seven hundred
and thirty-six square feet of glass, is the largest in England if not
in the world. Passing around the cathedral we found a house which
figures in the story,--the Deanery, as it is now called. It was
formerly the prior's lodge of the old Benedictine abbey, and is the
oldest house in Gloucester. Within its walls a meeting of Parliament
is said to have been held by Richard II.
Of the scenery of 'The Talisman' it is difficult to say much beyond
what is generally known about the Holy Land. Scott never visited
Palestine and wrote only in general terms. He did contrive, however,
to inject a bit of Scottish scenery with which he was familiar, just as
he managed to begin the novel with the adventures of a Scottish knight,
and to find another countryman among the retainers of King Richard, in
the person of Sir Thomas de Multon, the Lord of Gilsland, whose 'love
and devotion to the King was like the vivid affection of the old
English mastiff to his master.'
Readers of 'The Talisman' will recall, in the mansion of the hermit of
Engaddi, the beautiful miniature Gothic chapel, and will quickly note
the resemblance to Roslin {370} Chapel, near Edinburgh. The famous
feudal baron, William St. Clair, built the latter in a spirit of
penitence. An old manuscript informs us that 'to the end he might not
seem altogether unthankfull to God for the benefices received from Him,
it came in his minde to build a house for God's service of most curious
work, the which, that it might be done with greater glory and splendour
he caused artificers to be brought from other regions and forraigne
kingdoms and caused dayly to be abundance of all kinde of workemen
present.'
The foundation was laid in 1446. It is called 'florid Gothic' for want
of a better name. There is no other architecture like it in the world.
It is a medley of all architectures, the Egyptian, Grecian, Roman, and
Saracenic being intermingled with all kinds of decorations and designs,
some exquisitely beautiful and others quaint and even grotesque. There
are thirteen different varieties of the arch. The owner possessed
wealth and wanted novelty. He secured the latter by engaging
architects and builders from all parts of Europe. The most striking
feature of an ulterior crowded with beautiful forms is the 'Prentice's
Pillar, a column with spiral wreaths of exquisitely carved foliage.
It is curious to think of such a chapel as this concealed in a
mysterious mansion in the desert of Engaddi, but it is the only touch
of realistic description in the whole book, and Scott makes use of it
with his usual skill.
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