Edinburgh Under Sir Walter Scott

by W. T. Fyfe

CHAPTER XLIII

Marmion—Published by Constable—Misfortunes of Thomas Scott—George Ellis on Marmion—Hostile Review by Jeffrey—Charge of Want of Patriotism—Mrs. Scott and Jeffrey—Extraordinary Success of the Poem.

Marmion was begun in November 1806, and continued at intervals during the following year. He had made up his mind—so he tells us in the Introduction—not to be in a hurry with his new poem, but to bestow upon it more than his usual care. Particular passages accordingly were 'laboured with a good deal of care' and the progress of the work seems to have given him much pleasure. 'The period of its composition was a very happy one in my life.' Marmion was the first of Scott's original works published by Archibald Constable. This enterprising gentleman offered a thousand guineas for the poem shortly after it was begun, a fact which speaks volumes at once for the sagacity of the publisher and the impression already made by the poet. The offer was accepted, and the price paid long before the book was published. Scott seems to have had occasion for the use of the money in connection with the final withdrawal of his brother Thomas at this time from practice as a Writer to the Signet. Thomas had been unfortunate in certain speculations outside his proper business. He afterwards became paymaster of the 70th Regiment and died in Canada.

The appearance of Marmion was expected with intense interest in literary circles. It was published in the February of 1808. The general feeling was that expressed after an interval of two months by Scott's friend George Ellis, that 'dear old friend, who had more wit, learning, and knowledge of the world than would fit out twenty literati.' Ellis writes, 'All the world are agreed that you are like the elephant mentioned in the Spectator, who was the greatest elephant in the world except himself, and consequently, that the only question at issue is, whether the Lay or Marmion shall be reputed the most pleasing poem in our language.' He goes on to say that most people consider the Introductory Epistles—that to Canto V. is addressed to himself—as merely interruptions to the narrative. He expresses his own opinion that Marmion is preferable to the Lay, because its species of excellence is of much more difficult attainment. He thinks that Marmion, from the nature of the plot, and from the quality and variety of the characters, might with advantage have been largely extended, and elevated to the rank and dignity of an Epic in twelve books. Such seems to have been, in brief, the spontaneous verdict on Marmion of London literary circles when the poem was fresh from the press. The Edinburgh Review, all-powerful as the critical oracle of the time, had not yet recorded its verdict.

Jeffrey's Review had now been in existence for six years. Its pages were constantly illuminated by the brilliant productions of its army of able and talented young contributors. So far, also, it was without any rival worth considering at all. Its circulation was unprecedented, and its power to make or mar the fortunes of literary aspirants was esteemed absolute. Scott himself says, 'Of this work nine thousand copies are printed quarterly, and no genteel family can pretend to be without it, because, independent of its politics, it gives the only valuable literary criticism which can be met with.' On reading over Jeffrey's review of Marmion, one feels even yet aggrieved: but as it did not hurt the actual victim, we need only say, with Lockhart, 'it is highly creditable to Jeffrey's courageous sense of duty.' Certainly, it requires a good deal of that quality, and of coolness as well, to accumulate such a wealth of depreciation and petty fault-finding on the head of a private friend and honoured colleague. Jeffrey fully anticipated that Scott would take offence, for he wrote him a half-apologetic letter, which was sent along with Scott's copy of the magazine. The article begins with Jeffrey's favourite sweep of the arm—the writer of a successful poem must expect sterner criticism when he ventures to issue a second of the same kind. This paves the way to enumerating previous objections—broken narrative, redundancy of minute description, inequality of merit in the composition, and the general spirit and animation 'unchastised by any great delicacy of taste, or elegance of fancy.' All these faults are common to both the poems, but Marmion is crowded with additional defects. Compared with the Lay, he thinks it more clear that Marmion has greater faults than that it has greater beauties, though he is inclined to believe in both propositions. While he admits greater richness and variety both of character and incident, he finds in it more tedious and flat passages. He refers with supercilious contempt to the 'epistolary dissertations,' in which, poor man, he finds little to his taste. He seems to be savagely angry that the poem is a romantic narrative—presumably it ought to have been something else. He regrets that the author should consume his talent in 'imitations of obsolete extravagance,' in which he is sure no human being can take any interest. He sums up his indictment in numbered paragraphs: the plan bad, the incidents improbable, the characters morally worthless, and the book too long. Though he does give warm and unstinted praise to 'Flodden Field,' he finds, strange to say, that the interspersed ballads have less finish and poetical beauty. Stranger still, the author has wilfully neglected Scottish feelings and Scottish characters. Think of this charge against Walter Scott—'scarcely one trait of Scottish nationality or patriotism has been introduced into the book'! A good deal is said about 'bad taste' and culpable haste. Then the merciful critic adds that he passes over many other blemishes of taste and diction. It happened that Jeffrey was invited to dine at 39 Castle Street on the very day this article appeared. In reply to Jeffrey's note Scott assured him that the article had not disturbed his digestion, though he hoped neither his booksellers nor the public would agree with the opinions it expressed: and begged he would come to dinner at the hour appointed. Lockhart tells how he was received by his host with the frankest cordiality, but Mrs. Scott, though perfectly polite, was not quite so easy with him as usual. She said as he took his leave, 'Well, good night, Mr. Jeffrey—they tell me that you have abused Scott in the Review, and I hope Mr. Constable has paid you very well for writing it.' Scott could indeed afford to be complacent. There was, if anything, some danger of the popularity of Marmion giving even him 'a heeze.'

The success of Marmion as a publication was as remarkable as that of the Lay. The first edition, as usual a splendid quarto, of two thousand copies was sold out in less than a month. More than thirty thousand copies had been sold before the collected edition of the poems appeared in 1830.

CHAPTER XLIV

John Murray—Share in Marmion—Reverence for Scott—The Quarterly Review—The 'Cevallos' Article—Jeffrey's Pessimism—Contemplated Flight to America—Anecdotes of Earl of Buchan.

When Constable had concluded his arrangement with Scott, he followed a usual and prudent practice in offering fourth shares of the adventure to two other booksellers. They agreed, and their reply added, 'We both view it as honourable, profitable, and glorious to be concerned in the publication of a new poem by Walter Scott.' The writer of these words was John Murray, of Fleet Street, a young bookseller already of some note. Murray, as a keen business man, had evidently an eye to see and a mind that could grasp the future. He was aware that the Edinburgh Review was the great source and support of Constable's fortunes. Knowing also that Scott, though a Tory, was an important contributor to the Review, ne seems to have been on the watch for the time when, as he acutely anticipated, some occasion of rupture would emerge. He told Lockhart long after that when he read the review of Marmion and the political article in the same number, he said to himself—'Walter Scott has feelings both as a gentleman and a Tory, which these people must now have wounded; the alliance between him and the whole clique of the Review, its proprietor included, is now shaken.' With the same sagacity, he pushed his advances towards Scott by the medium of James Ballantyne. Murray came north in person, visited Scott at Ashestiel, and learned that, as he had expected, the disruption had begun. Scott had, in fact, been so disgusted with an article in the twenty-sixth number entitled 'Don Cevallos on the Usurpation of Spain,' that he had written to Constable withdrawing his subscription and saying, 'The Edinburgh Review had become such as to render it impossible for me to continue a contributor to it.—Now, it is such as I can no longer continue to receive or read it.' Mr. Cadell, one of Constable's partners, mentions that the list of the then subscribers exhibits, in an indignant dash of Constable's pen opposite Scott's name, the word 'STOPT!!!' The opportunity was a good one for advancing Murray's views. Before the end of the year some unguarded words of Mr. Hunter, Constable's junior partner, made the breach complete. We find Scott writing about 'folks who learn to undervalue the means by which they have risen,' and Constable stamping his foot and saying, 'Ay, there is such a thing as rearing the oak until it can support itself.' The result of all this, as concerns Scott, was that he eagerly entered into Murray's plans for establishing a rival Review, and that he carried out a scheme, 'begun' (Lockhart admits) 'in the short-sighted heat of pique,' of starting a new bookselling house in Edinburgh, another rival to Constable.

Murray's new Review was the Quarterly. The first number came out in February 1809, and was quite sufficient to prove that the Edinburgh was now to have a powerful competitor, and Jeffrey to find in Gifford a 'foeman worthy of his steel.' The idea of the Quarterly was precisely that which had guided the projectors of its rival, 'to be conducted totally independent of bookselling influence, on a plan as liberal as that of the Edinburgh, its literature as well supported, and its principles English and constitutional.' A great deal was, naturally enough, said at the time about the political excesses of the Edinburgh Review as having caused the introduction of the Quarterly. But there was no need to justify it on such grounds. Lord Cockburn in his Life of Jeffrey sums up the argument with equal fairness and good sense when he says, 'It was not this solitary article' (the 'Cevallos') 'that produced the rival journal. Unless the public tone and doctrines (of the Edinburgh Review) had been positively reversed, or party politics altogether excluded, a periodical work in defence of Church, Tory, and War principles, must have arisen; simply because the defence of these principles required it. The defence was a consequence of the attack. And it is fortunate that it was so. For besides getting these opinions fairly discussed, the party excesses natural to any unchecked publication were diminished; and a work arose which, in many respects, is an honour to British literature, and has called out, and indirectly reared, a great variety of the highest order of talent.'