First edition - 1822
This novel is not one of Scott's best - the weakest point about it lies in the speedy ending, which is far too contrived and lacking in probability.
Strengths? The author visited the Orkneys and the Shetlands in 1814 and both the landscape and its inhabitants, with their archaic customs, made a great impression on him. His descriptions in the early chapters of the rocky seascape are powerful: the ocean also had its mysteries, the effect of which was aided by the dim twilight, through which it was imperfectly seen for more than half the year. Its bottomless depths and secret caves...are backed up with the Norse legends of mermaids, krakens, dwarfs, giants, sorcerers and Sea-kings. Scott uses verse to convey the legendary lore surrounding these creatures. His description of the tempest which batters Mordaunt Mertoun on his way home - these inland waters were now lashed into sheets of tumbling foam...whilst the salt relish of the drift which was pelted against his face...this hideous combustion of the elements - is matched by the portrait of the foundering of Cleveland's vessel and his subsequent rescue by Mordaunt. Chapter VII in Volume I is, perhaps, the highlight of the whole story. Other well-written sections include the whale hunt, the visit to Norna's fastness and the festivities at Magnus Troil's steading.
Mordaunt rescuing Cleveland
The Scottish factor, Triptolemus Yellowley, - short, clumsy, duck-legged disciple of Ceres, whose bottle-nose, turned up and handsomely coppered at the extremity, seemed to intimate something of an occasional treaty with Bacchus - and his tight-fisted shrew of a sister, Baby, provide elements of humour. It is not hard to imagine the pedlar Bryce Snailsfoot in the avaricious byways and the scene where Cleveland finally lands a punch on him is well described. One can just about accept the stage-struck pirate Bunce who now calls himself Frederick Altamount. He is lively, good-hearted and brave; however, as with Cleveland, a most unlikely corsair and more fitted to be in a Gilbert & Sullivan's operetta.
Weeknesses? Basil Mertoun (who, as we finally discover, was once Basil Vaughan) has an unhappy past; but he is not an interesting character, rather cold and harsh, bitter in his misanthrope and the reader can spare no sympathy for him. Norna of the Fitful Head has a similarity to Meg Merrilies in Guy Mannering, but is not as compelling; moreover, her whole character is improbable, even unnatural. This stock 'old hag' - think Magdalen Graeme in The Abbot and Ulrica in Ivanhoe and add the White Lady of Avenel from The Monastery into the mix (but with far worse turgid versifying) - becomes wearysome after a while. John Buchan calls Norna Scott's supreme failure in the genre. Wearysome beyond belief is Claud Hacro - his constant references to, and quoting of, John Dryden is neither amusing or interesting, merely a bore without any redeeming feature for this reader.
There are several unlikely 'holes' in the plotting: the falling out between Cleveland and Mordaunt (who love different sisters) is puzzling; Cleveland as a pirate in charge of such a dastardly crew is hard to swallow; his range of good qualities must have been deeply hidden for many years and his 'repentence' does not make the reader warm to him. Minna's refined modern education and enlightenment, whilst also naively not understanding what pirates behave like, is again impossible. However, Minna is dark-haired, and Scott admits to a certain partiality for the dark Beauty (think Rebecca). How Captain Goffe ever commanded a pirate ship is really beyond belief! Above all, the news that Cleveland is Mertoun and Norma's son is not credible (particularly when Mertoun totally fails to recognise his former wife).
Brenda and Minna
Rather like Alfred Hitchcock always appearing in his own films, Scott has to get in a jibe against Roman Catholicism in every novel. Here he is again: The ruined church of Saint Ninian's had, in its time, enjoyed great celebrity; for that mighty system of superstition, which spread its roots over all Europe, had not failed to extend them even to this remote archipelago...as tending to foster the rooted faith of the simple and rude people around in saint-worship, and other erroneous doctrines of the Romish Church.
A final thought:
...with the unfailing dexterity peculiar to prosers, he contrived to dribble out his tale to double its usual length, by the exercise of the privilege of unlimited digressions...
Is this a note from the author to himself?!
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