WOODSTOCK
Between the completion of the 'Tales of the Crusaders' and the next
novel, 'Woodstock,' came the distressing change in Scott's affairs,
that set apart the remaining years of his life as a period of sadness,
disappointment, grief, and physical pain. They were years of almost
superhuman exertion, when the superb personal character of the man,
backed by an unconquerable will, triumphed over an accumulation of
afflictions that would have broken the heart of an ordinary person.
The victory cost him his life--but it was only after a battle of six
hard years, and even then it was the frail body and not the heart of
the man that succumbed.
In the year 1825, when 'Woodstock' was commenced, the old, happy days,
when writing a story was a joyous pastime, came to an end forever, and
in their stead came a sense of toil and conscious effort. 'It was a
pleasant sight,' said Lockhart, 'when one happened to take a passing
peep into his den, to see the white head erect, and the smile of
conscious inspiration on his lips, while the pen, held boldly and at a
commanding distance, glanced steadily and gayly along a fast-blackening
page of "The Talisman." It now often made me sorry to catch a glimpse
of him, stooping and poring with his spectacles, amidst piles of
authorities, a little notebook ready in his left hand, that had always
used to be at liberty for patting Maida.'
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Lockhart is here referring to the vast toil required in the preparation
of a 'Life of Napoleon,' which Scott had undertaken immediately after
returning from the tour through Ireland and Wales, made soon after the
completion of 'The Talisman.' It was the year when rumours of
financial troubles in London began to reach his ears, followed swiftly
by the failure of Constable and the Ballantynes, and later by the
sickness and death of Lady Scott and his own physical suffering.
Undaunted by misfortune he bravely continued his 'Napoleon,' and soon
conceived the idea of composing a work of imagination at the same time.
The first of three volumes of 'Woodstock' was, under these trying
circumstances, completed in fifteen days and the entire novel in three
months.
The news of Scott's distress had spread throughout Scotland and England
and into many parts of Europe, and there was naturally a keen interest
in the story which he was known to be writing. The announcement that
Scott was the author of the Waverley Novels and that the man who had
accomplished this marvellous success had met with financial failure
came as a shock and a thrill. 'Scott ruined!' exclaimed the Earl of
Dudley; 'the author of "Waverley" ruined! Good God! Let every man to
whom he has given months of delight give him a sixpence, and he will
rise to-morrow morning richer than Rothschild!' The result of this
state of the public mind was that 'Woodstock' was successful beyond the
author's fondest dreams.
The village of Woodstock, where practically the whole of the scene is
laid, lies about eight miles north-west of Oxford. The market-place
still has an ancient {373} look, though the houses are in fairly good
repair. To readers of the novel the chief place of interest in the
village is the old parish church where the Reverend Nehemiah Holdenough
was rudely crowded from his pulpit by the canting Independent soldier,
Trusty Tomkins, who proceeded to preach one of those weird sermons,
common enough at that time, in which the texts of Scripture were
perverted to apply to current events, with whatever significance the
orator might choose. A fine Norman doorway on the south side marks the
oldest part of the edifice, dating back probably as far as the twelfth
century. The north side is modern, having been built to replace the
older walls that were torn down. The tower was built in 1783.
The real interest of Woodstock lies not in the church nor the village,
but in the vast park and palace, now called Blenheim, the property of
the Duke of Marlborough. As early as the reign of William the
Conqueror, Woodstock was a royal forest, and was so designated in the
Domesday Book. His son, Henry I, enclosed it with a wall six miles in
circumference (not so large as its present extent) and rebuilt the
house. It was here that Thomas à Becket in 1162 began the quarrel with
King Henry II, which led to his murder at Canterbury. King Henry added
to the old palace of Woodstock the famous tower and maze, where 'the
fair Rosamond' might be safely concealed from the jealous eyes of Queen
Eleanor. 'Rosamond's Well,' where Tomkins met his well-deserved death
at the hands of Joceline Joliffe, is the only remnant of the old palace
in existence. It is a spring, walled in and paved, and guarded by an
iron fence. We drank of its waters {374} and, following the
instructions of the old woman who acts as its keeper, threw what was
left in the glasses over our left shoulders 'for luck.' The well was
originally within the walls of the palace, so that its occupant could
obtain water without the risk of stepping outside. It may, therefore,
be considered as marking approximately the site of the old palace.
Richard the Lion-Hearted and John were visitors to Woodstock. Henry
III made some improvements in the house. Edward III and Queen Philippa
were much attached to Woodstock and often made it their residence. It
was during their reign that the poet Chaucer, who was first a page and
later a royal 'esquire,' was frequently at Woodstock. He married one
of the Queen's maids of honour, and lived in a house in the village
which is still standing. As late as the time of James II, Woodstock
continued to be occupied, as a favourite country seat, by the English
sovereigns. During the great Civil War it was the scene of frequent
skirmishes and in the time of the Commonwealth was in the possession of
Cromwell.
The fantastic performances by which the commissioners of the Long
Parliament were imposed upon and badly frightened when they visited
Woodstock, after the execution of Charles I, for the purpose of
destroying it, are fully explained in Scott's Introduction.
[Illustration: GOLSTOW PRIORY (BURIAL-PLACE OF THE 'THE FAIR ROSAMOND')]
In 1704, as a reward for his famous triumph in the battle of Blenheim,
the victorious commander, John Churchill, was created first Duke of
Marlborough, and presented with the vast estates of Woodstock. Queen
Anne and the Parliament bestowed upon him in addition the princely sum
of £240,000 with which to build a {375} mansion. Blenheim Palace is
the finest work of the most famous architect of his day, Sir John
Vanbrugh, who designed the building by command of the Queen. Its front
extends, from wing to wing, three hundred and forty-eight feet. The
style is Italo-Corinthian. Its spacious halls are filled with splendid
tapestries and many valuable paintings. There is a long ballroom,
equipped as a library at one end and with a great pipe-organ at the
other. The park comprises two thousand six hundred acres, with many
fine beeches, oaks, elms, cedars of Lebanon, and an avenue of lindens.
The river Glyme, which flowed through the estate of Woodstock, was
dammed by the landscape gardener of Blenheim and converted into a
picturesque lake, over which is an imposing bridge. In a remote corner
of the grounds we found the celebrated King's Oak, a fine old tree
supposed to be at least a thousand years old.
Two characters of 'Woodstock' stepped into the tale, direct from
Scott's own household, thus giving a charming personal touch to this
novel in common with 'Redgauntlet' and several of the others. One of
these is the fine old hound, Bevis. It seems curious, in view of
Scott's fondness for his dogs, that not one of them should find a place
in any of his stories until so late a period of his life. Bevis,
however, made up for the previous omissions, and he is a splendid
picture of Sir Walter's favourite staghound Maida, 'the noblest dog
ever seen on the Border since Johnnie Armstrong's time.' So wrote
Scott to his friend Terry, adding, 'He is between the wolf and deer
greyhound, about six feet long from the tip of the nose to the tail,
and high and strong in proportion.... Tell Will Erskine he will eat
off his {376} plate without being at the trouble to put a paw on the
table or chair.' This noble animal, who for eight years enjoyed the
distinction of daily companionship with one of the most appreciative
masters who ever lived, came to his end in 1824, the year before
'Woodstock' was commenced. His image, sculptured in stone, had stood
for a year or more by the door of the main entrance to Abbotsford, as a
'leaping-on' stone, which Scott found convenient in mounting his horse.
Maida was buried beneath the stone, and an epitaph in Latin was carved
around its base, Scott's English version of which reads:--
Beneath the sculptured form which late you wore
Sleep soundly, Maida, at your master's door.
The other character from Scott's household was his daughter Anne--the
Alice Lee of the novel. The same loving care which Alice bestowed upon
her aged parent, Scott had felt at the hands of his youngest daughter.
When financial disaster began to weigh him down, and Lady Scott's
health began to fail, it was Anne who tenderly supported her beloved
father. In the sad days following the death of Lady Scott, she
accompanied him to London and Paris and was by his side when he
received his first paralytic stroke. Her health was shattered by the
long strain of her mother's illness and death, followed by that of her
father, and she survived her distinguished parent less than a year.
Regarding the historical characters in the novel, the critics seem to
agree that the portraits of Cromwell and Charles II are far from
accurate and of course their part in the story is imaginary. When
Scott's enthusiasm for the Stuart family is considered, and his
sympathy for {377} royalty in general, as well as the habit among
Scotchmen of his time of regarding the great Protector as a hypocrite,
it must be admitted that his picture of Cromwell, while far from
flattering, is on the whole remarkably fair to that stern and powerful
leader.
Although 'Woodstock' is not ranked among Scott's greatest novels, it is
noteworthy that many critics, including Lockhart and Andrew Lang, both
of whom usually preferred the Scottish romances, saw in it great merit.
In one respect it is the most wonderful of all novels--in the
self-control which enabled its author calmly to compose a
well-constructed story, full of incident and dramatic power, in the
face of afflictions which would have borne down a common mind to those
depths of despair in which the ordinary duties of life are forgotten.
Scott here proved to be not only a master of the art of story-telling,
but the master of himself.
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