The Lady of the Lake
And we'll go no more a roving," etc.
This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in his camlet cloak, was
but a trifle, yet it troubled me; and I was at a good deal of pains to
efface any marks by which I thought my secret could be traced before the
conclusion, when I relied on it with the same hope of producing effect,
with which the Irish post-boy is said to reserve a "trot for the
avenue."
I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy of the local circumstances
of this story. I recollect, in particular, that to ascertain whether I
was telling a probable tale, I went into Perthshire, to see whether King
James could actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar
to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the poem, and had the
pleasure to satisfy myself that it was quite practicable.
After a considerable delay, The Lady of the Lake appeared in June, 1810;
and its success was certainly so extraordinary as to induce me for the
moment to conclude that I had at last fixed a nail in the proverbially
inconstant wheel of Fortune, whose stability in behalf of an individual
who had so boldly courted her favours for three successive times had not
as yet been shaken. I had attained, perhaps, that degree of reputation
at which prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made a halt, and
discontinued efforts by which I was far more likely to diminish my fame
than to increase it. But, as the celebrated John Wilkes is said to have
explained to his late Majesty, that he himself, amid his full tide of
popularity, was never a Wilkite, so I can, with honest truth, exculpate
myself from having been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, even
when it was in the highest fashion with the million. It must not be
supposed that I was either so ungrateful, or so superabundantly candid,
as to despise or scorn the value of those whose voice had elevated me
so much higher than my own opinion told me I deserved. I felt, on
the contrary, the more grateful to the public, as receiving that from
partiality to me, which I could not have claimed from merit; and I
endeavoured to deserve the partiality, by continuing such exertions as I
was capable of for their amusement.
It may be that I did not, in this continued course of scribbling,
consult either the interest of the public or my own. But the former had
effectual means of defending themselves, and could, by their coldness,
sufficiently check any approach to intrusion; and for myself, I had now
for several years dedicated my hours so much to literary labour that I
should have felt difficulty in employing myself otherwise; and so,
like Dogberry, I generously bestowed all my tediousness on the public,
comforting myself with the reflection that, if posterity should think
me undeserving of the favour with which I was regarded by my
contemporaries, "they could not but say I had the crown," and had
enjoyed for a time that popularity which is so much coveted.
I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished situation I
had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the champion of
pugilism, [3] on the condition of being always ready to show proofs of
my skill, than in the manner of the champion of chivalry, who performs
his duties only on rare and solemn occasions. I was in any case
conscious that I could not long hold a situation which the caprice,
rather than the judgment, of the public, had bestowed upon me, and
preferred being deprived of my precedence by some more worthy rival, to
sinking into contempt for my indolence, and losing my reputation by what
Scottish lawyers call the negative prescription. Accordingly, those who
choose to look at the Introduction to Rokeby, will be able to trace
the steps by which I declined as a poet to figure as a novelist; as
the ballad says, Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross to rise again at
Queenhithe.
It only remains for me to say that, during my short pre-eminence of
popularity, I faithfully observed the rules of moderation which I had
resolved to follow before I began my course as a man of letters. If
a man is determined to make a noise in the world, he is as sure to
encounter abuse and ridicule, as he who gallops furiously through
a village must reckon on being followed by the curs in full cry.
Experienced persons know that in stretching to flog the latter, the
rider is very apt to catch a bad fall; nor is an attempt to chastise
a malignant critic attended with less danger to the author. On this
principle, I let parody, burlesque, and squibs find their own level;
and while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch
them up, as schoolboys do, to throw them back against the naughty boy
who fired them off, wisely remembering that they are in such cases apt
to explode in the handling. Let me add, that my reign [4] (since Byron
has so called it) was marked by some instances of good-nature as well
as patience. I never refused a literary person of merit such services
in smoothing his way to the public as were in my power; and I had the
advantage, rather an uncommon one with our irritable race, to enjoy
general favour without incurring permanent ill-will, so far as is known
to me, among any of my contemporaries.
W.S.
Abbotsford, April, 1830.
Our limits do not permit us to add any extended selections from the many
critical notices of the poem. The verdict of Jeffrey, in the Edinburgh
Review, on its first appearance, has been generally endorsed:--
"Upon the whole, we are inclined to think more highly of The Lady of
the Lake than of either of its author's former publications [the Lay and
Marmion]. We are more sure, however, that it has fewer faults than that
it has greater beauties; and as its beauties bear a strong resemblance
to those with which the public has been already made familiar in these
celebrated works, we should not be surprised if its popularity were less
splendid and remarkable. For our own parts, however, we are of opinion
that it will be oftener read hereafter than either of them; and that,
if it had appeared first in the series, their reception would have been
less favourable than that which it has experienced. It is more polished
in its diction, and more regular in its versification; the story is
constructed with infinitely more skill and address; there is a greater
proportion of pleasing and tender passages, with much less antiquarian
detail; and, upon the whole, a larger variety of characters, more
artfully and judiciously contrasted. There is nothing so fine, perhaps,
as the battle in Marmion, or so picturesque as some of the scattered
sketches in the Lay; but there is a richness and a spirit in the whole
piece which does not pervade either of those poems,--a profusion of
incident and a shifting brilliancy of colouring that reminds us of the
witchery of Ariosto, and a constant elasticity and occasional energy
which seem to belong more peculiarly to the author now before us."
Canto First.
Each canto is introduced by one or more Spenserian stanzas, [5]
forming a kind of prelude to it. Those prefixed to the first canto serve
as an introduction to the whole poem, which is "inspired by the spirit
of the old Scottish minstrelsy."
2. Witch-elm. The broad-leaved or wych elm (Ulmus montana), indigenous
to Scotland. Forked branches of the tree were used in the olden time as
divining-rods, and riding switches from it were supposed to insure good
luck on a journey. In the closing stanzas of the poem (vi. 846) it is
called the "wizard elm." Tennyson (In Memoriam, 89) refers to
"Witch-elms that counterchange the floor
Of this flat lawn with dusk and bright."
Saint Fillan was a Scotch abbot of the seventh century who became famous
as a saint. He had two springs, which appear to be confounded by some
editors of the poem. One was at the eastern end of Loch Earn, where the
pretty modern village of St. Fillans now stands, under the shadow of
Dun Fillan, or St. Fillan's Hills, six hundred feet high, on the top of
which the saint used to say his prayers, as the marks of his knees in
the rock still testify to the credulous. The other spring is at another
village called St. Fillans, nearly thirty miles to the westward, just
outside the limits of our map, on the road to Tyndrum. In this Holy
Pool, as it is called, insane folk were dipped with certain ceremonies,
and then left bound all night in the open air. If they were found loose
the next morning, they were supposed to have been cured. This treatment
was practised as late as 1790, according to Pennant, who adds that
the patients were generally found in the morning relieved of their
troubles--by death. Another writer, in 1843, says that the pool is still
visited, not by people of the vicinity, who have no faith in its virtue,
but by those from distant places. Scott alludes to this spring in
Marmion, i. 29:
"Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well,
Whose springs can frenzied dreams dispel,
And the crazed brain restore."
3. And down the fitful breeze, etc. The original MS. reads:
"And on the fitful breeze thy numbers flung,
Till envious ivy, with her verdant ring,
Mantled and muffled each melodious string,--
O Wizard Harp, still must thine accents sleep?"
10. Caledon. Caledonia, the Roman name of Scotland.
14. Each according pause. That is, each pause in the singing. In
Marmion, ii. 11, according is used of music that fills the intervals of
other music:
"Soon as they neared his turrets strong,
The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song,
And with the sea-wave and the wind
Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined,
And made harmonious close;
Then, answering from the sandy shore,
Half-drowned amid the breakers' roar,
According chorus rose."
The MS. reads here:
"At each according pause thou spokest aloud
Thine ardent sympathy sublime and high."
28. The stag at eve had drunk his fill. The metre of the poem proper
is iambic, that is, with the accent on the even syllables, and
octosyllabic, or eight syllables to the line.
29. Monan's rill. St. Monan was a Scotch martyr of the fourth century.
We can find no mention of any rill named for him.
31. Glenartney. A valley to the north-east of Callander, with
Benvoirlich (which rises to the height of 3180 feet) on the north, and
Uam-Var (see 53 below) on the south, separating it from the valley of
the Teith. It takes its name from the Artney, the stream flowing through
it.
32. His beacon red. The figure is an appropriate one in describing this
region, where fires on the hill-tops were so often used as signals in
the olden time. Cf. the Lay, iii. 379:
"And soon a score of fires, I ween,
From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen,
Each with warlike tidings fraught;
Each from each the signal caught," etc.
34. Deep-mouthed. Cf. Shakespeare, 1 Hen. VI. ii. 4. 12: "Between
two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;" and T. of S. ind. 1. 18: "the
deep-mouthed brach" (that is, hound).
The MS. reads:
"The bloodhound's notes of heavy bass
Resounded hoarsely up the pass."
35. Resounded... rocky. The poet often avails himself of "apt
alliteration's artful aid," as here, and in the next two lines; most
frequently in pairs of words.
38. As Chief, etc. Note here, as often, the simile put BEFORE that
which it illustrates,--an effective rhetorical, though not the logical,
arrangement.
45. Beamed frontlet. Antlered forehead.
46. Adown. An instance of a purely poetical word, not admissible in
prose.
49. Chase. Here put for those engaged in the chase; as in 101 and 171,
below. One of its regular meanings is the OBJECT of the chase, or the
animal pursued.