Marmion | Page 5

Scott intended to work slowly and carefully through his new poem, but,
as he explains in the 1830 Introduction, circumstances interrupted his
design. 'Particular passages,' he says, 'of a poem, which was finally
called "Marmion," were laboured with a good deal of care, by one by
whom much care was seldom bestowed.' The publication, however,
was hastened by 'the misfortunes of a near relation and friend.'
Lockhart (Life, ii. 115) explains that the reference is to 'his brother

Thomas's final withdrawal from the profession of Writer to the Signet,
which arrangement seems to have been quite necessary towards the end
of 1806.' At any rate, the poem was finished in a shorter time than had
been at first intended. The subject suited Scott so exactly that, even in
default of a special stimulus, there need be no surprise at the rapidity of
his composition after he had fairly begun to move forward with it.
Dryden, it may be remembered, was so held and fascinated by his
'Alexander's Feast' that he wrote it off in a night. Cowper had a similar
experience with 'John Gilpin,' and Burns's powerful dramatic tale, 'Tam
O'Shanter,' was produced with great ease and rapidity. De Quincey
records that, in his own case, his very best work was frequently done
when he was writing against time. Scott's energy and fluency of
composition are clearly indicated in the following passage in Lockharts
Life, ii. 117:--
'When the theme was of a more stirring order, he enjoyed pursuing it
over brake and fell at the full speed of his Lieutenant. I well remember
his saying, as I rode with him across the hills from Ashestiel to Newark
one day in his declining years--"Oh, man, I had many a grand gallop
among these braes when I was thinking of 'Marmion,' but a trotting
canny pony must serve me now." His friend, Mr. Skene, however,
informs me that many of the more energetic descriptions, and
particularly that of the battle of Flodden, were struck out while he was
in quarters again with his cavalry, in the autumn of 1807. "In the
intervals of drilling," he says, "Scott used to delight in walking his
powerful black steed up and down by himself upon the Portobello
sands, within the beating of the surge; and now and then you would see
him plunge in his spurs and go off as if at the charge, with the spray
dashing about him. As we rode back to Musselburgh, he often came
and placed himself beside me to repeat the verses that he had been
composing during these pauses of our exercise."'
This is wholly in keeping with the production of such poetry of
movement as that of 'Marmion,' and it deserves its due place in
estimating the work of Scott, just as Wordsworth's staid and sober
walks around his garden, or among the hills by which he was
surrounded, are carefully considered in connexion with his
deliberate,

meditative verse. Scott wrote the Introduction to Canto IV just a year
after he had begun the poem, and between that time and the middle of
February 1808 the work was finished. There is no rashness in saying
that rapidity of production did not detract from excellence of result.
Indeed, it is admiration rather than criticism that is challenged by the
reflection that, in these short months, the poet should have turned out
so much verse of high and enduring quality.
III. CHARACTERISTICS OF THE POEM.
'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