The Country of Sir Walter Scott

by Charles S. Olcott

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 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 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 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.