First edition - 1822
I enjoyed this tale of a Scotsman making his way in the world. As J. M. Barrie remarked, There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make. One can also see the relevance of quoting Samuel Johnson - Much may be made of a Scotchman, if he be caught young. By his use of the term 'Our hero' throughout the three volumes John Galt makes it clear where his sympathy lies. In fact, one feels that the young 'Wheelie' from Ayrshire who ends up as Sir Andrew Wylie of that Ilk had very much the life story his creator had wished for but did not achieve. Wylie's very surname suggests wiliness, but when his eventual patron first sees him he shrewdly sums him up: the oddity of his appearance, and the sly suspicion of his looks, with the simplicity of his manners, diverted the peer. Throughout the story, everyone appears diverted and even the reader cannot quite make up his mind what is the ratio between cunning/sagacity and simplicity/naivety. By the end one can almost regard Wylie as a wunderkind: he patches up the Sandyfords' marriage; he ensures Mordaunt marries his desired; he helps Charles Pierson get a job in India; he makes certain his grandmother is comfortably provided for; he becomes an M.P.; he is feted in the salons of the mighty; he chats on familiar terms to King George III; and he marries his childhood sweetheart.
The nobility are well delineated. They include The Earl of Sandyford - still on the gay side of thirty, and justly considered one oif the most elegant men of the age; his wife, Lady Augusta Spangle, who was not only endowed with great beauty, but an education, conducted with admirable skill to bring out all the showy portions of her character...she was not witty, nor did she possess any of that sunniness of mind, which beams out in the smiles of good humour...she had, in fact, been educated for the market of fashion...; and her father, The Marquis of Avonside with his sedate pomposity...taken with the conceit of being a statesman.
The minor characters are of interest and well-drawn, such as Wylie's schoolteacher Mr Tannyhill; his school friend Charles Pierston; his London employer, Mr Vellum; the Duchess of Dashingwell; Sir Charles Runnington; Mordaunt - who Wylie helps to catch his belle, Miss Beauchamp; the tragic Mr Ferrers, one of the most eccentric orbs then above the horizon of fashion...already touched with madness; the Dowager of Sandyford; Lord Riversdale; the young barrister Blondell; Lady Clackit; and Sir Hubert Mowbray. Equally so, the various servants - Nettle, Flounce (not one of those foolish virgins who slumber and sleep at their tasks), Mrs Valence, Servinal and Bell Lampit - all add to the reader's enjoyment. The gipsies also give further colour to the book - Wylie's comment on the gipsy lad in the Tolbooth is wonderful: He's a toozie tyke in the looks, that maun be alloo't; but a rough husk often covers a sweet kernel - and his support of them and, later on, cripple Janet, helps to palliate an image of Wylie's tightness in financial matters. The gipsy grandmother is well fleshed out. Walter Scott would probably have 'gone overboard' with her!
When relevant, descriptions of the landscape and country houses/homes of the participants - Chastington-hall, Elderbower, Castle-Rooksborough, Burisland Abbey, Bretonsbield Castle are well described.
The story abounds in Humour.
Here's the Earl of Sandyford spending the occasional morning at the House of Lords, yawning due to having to listen, it is true, to the tuneless eloquence and metaphysical distinctions of some litigious advocate from the north...
Here is Martha, Wylie's doting grandmother, commenting on King Solomon: man, in his auld days he gaed aften far ajee out o' the strait road in the gloaming, tapping wi' his gowden-headed staff at the harlot's door, and keeking in at her windows with his bald head and his grey haffits, when he should hae been sitting at hame on his throne, reading his Bible to his captains and counsellors in a kingly manner. Brilliant!
Wylie's remark that a gipsey's character, a hachel's slovenliness, and a waster's want, are three things as far beyond remedy, as a blackamoor's face, a club foot, or a short temper, is not politically correct perhaps, but very droll (Walter Scott might have objected to one of the images!)
The Chapter Love in a Dicey, where Wylie 'rapes' Flounce's basket with its veal pye and bottle of cherry-brandy rather than her, is very funny. The meeting with the King in Windsor Great Park is another comic piece. And what a great start to another Chapter: Neither the east nor the west of Scotland affords the best market for the disposal of beautiful young ladies with large fortunes. We have even some doubts whether those of the south or the north be any better. Shades of Jane Austen?
The passing remark - these characteristics of intellectual superiority which have enabled the possessors to perform such miracles both abroad and at home, we mean mustachoes, had not then been revived in the British Army - had me smiling. As did daft Jamie's favourite haunt being Geenock, for the best possible reasons, because, as he said, "the folk there were just like himsel".
As for Mary Cunningham - all the bright young things in Edinburgh, the beaux of the West of Scotland and the martial delights of the officer class pass her by. 'Wheelie' is the one for her, thanks to his learning of the first 50 Psalms in Stoneyholm's churchyard, whilst sitting next to her. Her father the Laird - set in his ways, hating the incoming pestilence of the cotton Jennies and the reformers baith cleckit at the same time, arguing that trade and traffic will ruin the country and gentlemen will be no more, but made more lovable with his inordinate guffaws; and her aunt, Miss Mizy, provide both humour and verismilitude to the tale.
I liked the passing references to Galt's The Annals and The Ayrshire Legatees - In some respects, the parish of Stoneyholm was, at the period of Andrew's departure, not so fortunate in its pastor, as its neighbour Dalmailing, of which the meek and pious Mr Balwhidder was then the incumbent, nor could it even be compared with the well-watered vineyard of Garnock, where the much celebrated Doctor Zachariah Pringle had, some years before, been appointed helper and successor. The comment of George III, that Ayr was a fine county - No excisemen shooting Lords now? Bad game, bad game. Poor Lord Eglinton... reminds us again of The Annals.
Galt clearly had no time for the outcome of the French Revolution - horrors of that anarchy, which, under the name of Freedom, committed such crimes for the personal aggrandizement of a few intrepid adventurers; or the Roman Catholic Church - (as Wylie comments on the Catholic Emancipation) my conscience will never consent that I should be art or part to bring in the whore of Babylon among us, riding on the beast with seven heads and ten horns. Did the author give away his true opinion here, too? The triumph of woman lies not in the admiration of her lover, but in the respect of her husband; and it can only be gained by a constant cultivation of those qualities which she knows he most values.
So, I have now re-read The Annals of the Parish and The Ayshire Legatees and have just restarted The Provost. Sir Andrew Wylie of that Ilk, read for the first time, has simply reinforced my delight in reading the Author's works. I am only sorry I had not come across him before; however, there are still many more novels to go, and all in first editions!
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