First edition - 1824
This is Scott 'on form' again; he is back in his beloved eighteenth century and his well-trodden paths of Dumfriesshire and Cumberland (think Guy Mannering). I agree with some reviewers, who found the double shift from Letters to Journal to usual Narrative not entirely satisfactory. John Buchan comments on the former: A common criticism is that the use of letters impedes the narrative, and no doubt there is now and then a felt hiatus, when the reader's mind has to switch back awkwardly to a different sphere. This constitutes the main artistic defect; the story is too much of a mosaic, a series of fragments of which the patter is not immediately recognised. However, Buchan argues, ...but the pattern is there, and the slow leisurely narrative of the early letters is a skilful preparation for the tumultuous speed of the later chapters. I think, on balance, he is correct. I also grasped, early on, how much of Scott himself is in the novel; surely he is both Darsie and Latimer. As Magnus Magnusson (remember him?!) wrote: its two young heroes, Alan Fairford and Darsie Latimer, between them reflect the duality of Scott's own character. Fairford, an Edinburgh advocate, is the son of a strict, ultra-conservative Edinburgh lawyer (modelled on Scott's own father), Latimer...is the young adventurer seeking to discover the secret of his parentage in the wilds of Dumfriesshire. Alan Fairford is Scott's Edinburgh self; Darsie Latimer is his Borders self. They both, like Scott, discover an ultimate commitment to the House of Hanover and its settled times (even though old Fairford felt Darsie was rather tinctured with the old leaven of prelacy...)
The scenes along the treacherous Solway shore - the description of the incoming tide which advances with such rapidity upon these fatal sands, which could still be heard, even after Darsie's successful escape thanks to the Laird, like the roar of some immense monster defrauded of its prey; the smugglers whose main allies are darkness, treachery and brutality; the description of the inn (Scott loves his dark and winding passages!) - are superb descriptive settings.
The various characters are strongly drawn: Provost Crosbie, the fence sitter, who takes refuge in the lack of any power he has beyond the ports of the burgh and Mr Maxwell of Summertrees/Pate-in-Peril, the old Jacobite (they both have a marvellously described dinner with Alan); Tom Trumbull, hypocrisy incarnate, a treacherous 'Covenanter'; Nanty Ewart, Captain of the Jumping Jenny (what a compelling and tragic life story); Father Crackenthorp, a man so overgrown with corpulence that he could be distinguished even in the moonlight; the Papist jades, the Miss Arthurets; the young miscreant little Benjie, the naughtiest varlet in the whole neighbourhood; Joshua Geddes, the Quaker, drawn with respect, unlike Covenanters, and his sister Rachel; Squire Foxley of Foxley Hall, who could pshaw, hem and elevate his eyebrows; Cristal Nixon, a compelling nasty piece of work, with hard and harsh countenance, who meets a thoroughly deserved end; Wandering Willie, of course, gives literature his famous Tale, for evermore in many short-story compendiums. Then, there is the cause of it all - Father Buonaventure (aka the aging Bonnie Prince) - again drawn with some skill and sympathy, as is that of General Campbell, sent to capture him but effects his escape.
Mr Herries of Birvenswork, aka the Laird of the Lakes/Laird of the Lochs of Solway, aka Hugh, the Laird of Redgauntlet is one of Scott's most powerfully drawn characters. His features were high and prominent in such a degree, that one knew not whether to term them harsh or handsome. In either case,, the sparkling grey eye, aquiline nose, and well-formed mouth, combined to render his physiognomy noble and expressive. An air of sadness, or severity, or of both, seemed to indicate a melancholy, and, at the same time, a haughty temper. He is the most dangerous of characters - a fanatic, who,(as Lilias remarks) in his moments of enthusiasm, knew neither remorse nor fear. His decision to follow his 'king', the less-bonnie Prince Charlie, to the continent, then enter a monastery (where, of course, he ends up as Prior) is thoroughly understandable. The Stuart line and the Roman Catholic Church are his twin pillars.
Peter Peebles, an eccentric plaintiff...an insane beggar - as poor as Job, and as mad as a March hare!, keeps popping up to drink and moan. I have decided that in every Scott novel, at least one character annoys me intensely. Usually it is the mode of speech the author gives them; here it is Peebles. Buchan describes him as the best of Scott's half-wits, a massive figure of realistic farce, not without hints of tragedy. Perhaps the clue is in the word farce - I have always disliked farce in the theatre, cinema or on the printed page.
I leave until last my lady Green Mantle. She visits Alan Fairford in Edinburgh, her figure and dress concealed by a walking-cloak of green silk, fancifully embroidered; in which, though heavy for the season, her person was enveloped, and which, moreover, was furnished with a hood.. Alan could still make out one of the prettiest countenances I have seen...I could see her complexion was beautiful - her chin finely turned - her lips coral - and her teeth rivals to ivory. Of course, he falls - Plague on her green mantle, she can be nothing better than a fairy; she keeps possession of my head yet! Darsie, in turn, meets her at a dance in Brokenburn Glen. He fantasies about the nymph's lovely eyes...she was so very beautiful, and assumed an air of so much dignity. Alas, not only does he find out her name - Lilias - but also that she is his sister. If a hermit had proposed to him to club for a pot of beer, the illusion of his reverend sanctity could not have been dispelled more effectually than the divine qualities of Green-Mantle faded upon the ill-imagined frank-heartedness of poor Lilias. Love of a different kind takes over. Sir Arthur Darsie Redgauntlet of that Ilk is her brother - no more is Darsie Latimer.
Our homes in Ashby de la Zouch and, here, in Kings Newton bear the name Greenmantle - with reference to John Buchan's stirring tale. Now, it can have two forebears!
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