Scott's 'The Antiquary' revisited

 

The dirty bare-footed chambermaid Jenny Rintherout 

caught dusting Monkbarn's sanctum sanctorum

I bought the three volume first edition on 9th February 2003, for £69. This is the second of Walter Scott's novels I am re-reading within a year. I have just read through what I wrote about The Antiquary in my Blog of 1st May 2020. It is very positive. Therefore, it is interesting that whereas I enjoyed the re-read of Guy Mannering even more, I was not quite so impressed with The Antiquary this time. I am still trying to puzzle out quite why. I quote Lockhart again, when he said it was Scott's favourite among his works. So, what was the problem? The clue is possibly in Scott's opening Advertisement. He writes: I have been more solicitous to describe manners minutely, than to arrange in any case an artificial and combined narration... I still appreciated Monkbarns' description and history of his various acquisitions to Lovel and his comeuppance by Edie Ochiltree at the Kairn of Kinprunes; but on more than one occasion I just wished he would zip-it! Moreover, the too regular use of Latin begins to irritate a 21st century reader far more than it probably did an early 19th century one. The reader begins to empathise with Hector 'Hotspur' M'Intyre's approach to Monkbarns' long-windedness. Nevertheless, the scene where he asks his womenkind for his sword to fight the French invasion is excellent.

Monkbarns, sword and the womenkind

Rather like Dirk Hatterick's 'Dutch' in Guy Mannering, Dousterswivel's  'German' pronunciation as conveyed by Scott also grates after a time. Lovel is still rather dull; as he himself admits, I ask nothing of society but the permission of walking innoxiously through the path of life without jostling others. Not the stuff for a hero in a novel.

On the other hand, I again relished the little character cameos, such as the fat, gouty, pursy landlord of the Hawes Inn negotiating with Monkbarns the refreshments to be served; and Miss Grizzy and Maria M'Intyre, whom Monkbarns had trained to consider him as the greatest man upon earth, and whom he used to boast of as the only women he had ever seen who were well broke-in and bitted to obedience. Monkbarns introduces them to Lovel  as his malae bestiae. And there is always Edie, with his exterior appearance of a mendicant. - A slouched hat of huge dimensions; a long white beard, which mingled with his grizzled hair; an aged, but strongly marked and expressive countenance, hardened by climate and exposure, to a right brick-dust complexion... a privileged nuisance!  Monkbarns tells Lord Glenallan, Edie is to a certain extent, the oracle of the district through which he travels - their genealogist, their newsman, their master of the revels, their doctor at a pinch, or their divine...

Edie Ochiltree watches Dousterswivel

dig for buried treasure

The rocky relationship between Monkbarns and Sir Arthur Wardour doesn't pall - there was a spirit of mutual accommodation upon the whole, and they dragged on like dogs in couples, with some difficulty and occasional snarling, but without absolutely coming to  a stand-still or throttling each other. I think I also appreciated old Caxon more this time, wig protector extraordinaire: "God's sake, haud a care! - Sir Arthur's drowned already, and ye fa' ower the cleugh too, there will be but ae wig left in the parish, and that's the minister's."  Monkbarn remarks: The wigs were like the three degrees of comparison - Sir Arthur's ramilies being the positive, his own bob-wig the comparative, and the overwhelming grizzle of the worthy clergyman figuring as the superlative. Lord Glenallan also figured more in my consciousness this time; as did Baillie Littlejohn, who, contrary to what his name expressed, was a tall portly magistrate, on whom corporation crusts had not been conferred in vain. The Mucklebackets also provide both light relief and pathos. 

Luckie Mucklebacket and Monkbarns

So, whereas Guy Mannering certainly retains its B++, or even an A/B, on its second reading; The Antiquary slips very slightly, from a B++ to a B+.  John Buchan says the plot is elaborate, artificial, and unimportant...the construction is careless... but it is primarily a comedy of Scottish country life and the book is richer than any of the others in cunning detail...I still enjoyed re-reading both of them.