Marmion | Page 7

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.
IV. CRITICISMS OF THE POEM.
When 'Marmion' was little more than begun Scott's publishers offered
him a thousand pounds for the copyright, and as this soon became
known it naturally gave rise to varied comment. Lord Byron thought it
sufficient to warrant a gratuitous attack on the author in his 'English
Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' This is a portion of the passage:--
'And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance,
On public taste
to foist thy stale romance.
Though Murray with his Miller may
combine
To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line?
No! when
the sons of song descend to trade,
Their bays are sear, their former
laurels fade.'
As a matter of fact, there was on Scott's part no trade whatever in the
case. If a publisher chose to secure in advance what he anticipated
would be a profitable commodity, that was mainly the publisher's affair,
and the poet would have been a simpleton not to close with the offer if
he liked it. Scott admirably disposes of Byron as follows