Scott's 'The Betrothed' 1825

 

First edition 1825

The Betrothed was published with The Talisman in four volumes in 1825. I recall first reading it decades ago - perhaps even in the Sixth Form - and quite enjoying it!  I say this because when Scott's printer and publisher, Ballantyne and Constable, read the first chapters they were not keen on the story, the former finding it tiresome. Scott, even after rewriting portions of it, wanted to withdraw it from publication. The other two hit on the plan of publishing it together with The Talisman, a story they found to be far superior. The Betrothed was actually well received by both critics and public and considered a worthy companion to The Talisman. So I am not alone. However, one biographer of Scott, Hesketh Pearson, wrote: The Betrothed was clearly composed in a somnolent if not stertorous condition, and would score high marks in a competition to decide which was the dreariest and stupidest book ever produced by a writer of genius". Ouch! But also, Bah! - what a stupid comment.

The Introduction - Minutes of a Sederunt of a General Meeting...for the purpose of writing and publishing the class of works called The Waverley Novels - is typical Sir Walter. Here we meet again Jonathan Oldbuck, of The Antiquary fame; Dandie Dinmont's son of him in Guy Mannering; a letter from Mr. Dousterswivel, also of The Antiquary; the Rev. Mr Lawrence Templeton, 'editor' of Ivanhoe; and Captain Cuthbert Clutterbuck, 'editor' of The Monastery and The Fortunes of Nigel. It is the latter who opines: To the chair, then, I say it, that The Betrothed is heavy enough to break down the chair of John of Gaunt, or Cader-Edris itself. I must add, however, that, in my poor mind, The Talisman goes more trippingly off.  Well, I will be reading the latter next; we shall see.

Sir Damian de Lacy, the old Constable's loyal nephew never really comes alive (in fact, he spends much of his time in a physical/mental depression or hurt); and the heroine, Lady Eveline Berenger, daughter of the slaughtered Raymond, is only spasmodically interesting or really 'alive'. Wilkin Flammock, the mighty Fleming (Our Flemish courage is like our Flanders horses - the one needs the spur, and the other must have a taste of the wine-pot); and his daughter Roschen play important roles in the story and are well-drawn.

The villain, Randal de Lacy, once or twice briefly crosses the stage, fittingly assassinated in mistake for his brother the Constable by the other 'half-villain' - Renault Vidal aka  the Welsh chief bard Cadwallon of the Nine Lays, of the slaughtered Gwenwyn of Powis-land - are both skimpily but realistically drawn.

Of course, Scott has to bring in the usual supernatural (or dreamlike?) figure - this time` it is the Britoness Vanda who, fortuitously, only 'appears' on a few occasions, egged on by Eveline's malicious great-aunt, the Lady Ermengarde of Baldringham, proud of her Saxon heritage and contemptuous of the Normans (shades of Cedric in Ivanhoe?). The room, the chamber of the Red-Finger, is rather like the Green Room in The Antiquary. The Virgin of the Garde Doloureuse is another ethereal presence - equally unlikely for a Protestant reader. I also appreciated Scott's cynicism about the Roman Catholic Abbess's principles: Truth is, the Lady Abbess's hereditary devotion to the Lady of the Garde Doloureuse was much decayed since she had known the full merits of another gifted image, the property of her own convent. And another shaft, this time directed by the Constable Hugo de Lacy at Baldwin, the Primate of England - you of the spirituality make us the packhorses of your own concerns, and climb to ambitious heights by the help of our over-burthened shoulders...

I return to Hesketh Pearson's strictures - unjust and mistaken. Once again, I actually enjoyed the story and could see little wrong with the history of those wild days on the Marches between England and Wales in the late 12th century. In a few lines, Scotts succinctly and accurately summed up Henry II's reign: Thus spoke Henry the Second, than whom no wiser, or, generally speaking, more fortunate monarch, ever sat upon the throne of England; yet whose life is a striking illustration, how family dissensions can tarnish the most brilliant lot to which Heaven permits humanity to aspire; and how little gratified ambition, extended power, and the highest reputation in war and in peace, can do towards curing the wounds of domestic affliction.

Another useful paragraph - this time of the author's way of working, is worth quoting: But, as we profess to present to the reader not a precise detail of circumstances, according to their order and date, but a series of pictures, endeavouring to present the most striking incidents before the eye or imagination of those whom it may enliven, we therefore open a new scene, and bring other actors upon the stage.

Eveline and Rose on the battlement

of Castle Doloureuse

A final point. There are similar incidents in the novel to the much more successful Ivanhoe: both set in the late 12th century (1187 and 1194); both involve sieges of castles and treachery; both involving heroes disguised as Palmers, returning from the Holy Land. But there the similarities end - there are no Jews, not least no lovely Rebecca; no supporting outlaws, but rather perfidious Welsh; and no sustainability for a three volume tale. So, now on to The Talisman.