The Heart Of Midlothian - souloftherose and lyzard read Walter Scott

Hi, all.

Heather and I are embarking upon a shared read of Walter Scott's The Heart Of Midlothian. At the moment out reading plan looks like this:

Week 1: Ch 1-12 (133 pages)
Week 2: Ch 13-26 (138 pages)
Week 3: Ch 27-39 (133 pages)
Week 4: Ch 40-52 (128 pages)

If anyone would care either to join in openly or lurk, they would be most welcome!

Hmm... The first question seems to be, where to start? I'm reading the "World's Classics" edition, which has an introduction, some notes on the text, a bibliography, a chronology, a map, another introduction, a postscript, and a preface by one "Jedediah Cheishbotham".

Call me crazy, but I'm skipping directly to Chapter 1.

Would you like to list this on the wiki as a group read?

Yes, I guess so. This wasn't planned as anything other than Heather and me having a place to chat, but we would be very happy to have company. Thanks!

#2 I think my edition has all of those except the map (although some are at the back of the book).

I skipped most the editor's introduction in my edition (Penguin Classics) although I did read the first section which gave a rapid overview of Scottish history from 1314 to the time this book was first published (181). I then skipped the bibliography but did read the preface (or prolegomen) by Jedediah Cleishbotham and then read chapter one. That took me through to the end of my first large pot of tea so I thought I would come and add some thoughts.

Prolegomen and Chapter One

My edition has a glossary at the back and a hint from the editor made me look up the character and place names as I was reading through. It seems like Scott was having a lot of fun with the character and place names he made up.

A selection:

Cleishbotham = Smack bottom
The pauper in chapter one is called Mr Dunover which means 'overthrown and thoroughly worked upon by debt-collectors' (duns).
Bitem and Bubbleburgh, the towns in chapter one where they were campaigning, mean 'deceive them' and 'insubstantial, delusive, cheating or duped town' respectively.

Otherwise I found the Prolegomen where Scott makes his fictional author offended by being considered fictional really quite funny. Chapter one was another introduction to the historical story which presumably starts in chapter two.

I had an impression of Scott being rather a dry author and I hadn't expected to find him so amusing.

I don't think he's dry; I do think he sometimes gets carried away with his details and side-plots.

I can't remember if we had this conversation before, way back when - have you read any Scott before? One of my reasons for doing this is that, of all the major 19th century British writers, Scott is the one I feel I haven't given a sufficient trial. I've read only three or four of his novels over a period of years, and they haven't really grabbed me. I'm hoping that will change.

I have a reason for choosing The Heart Of Midlothian for this read, but since telling that reason would constitute a spoiler, I'll wait until we get up to the relevant point in the book.

I've only read Ivanhoe, way back when and I remember very little except that it felt like a bit of a slog at times so that's probably where my idea of Scott being dry came from. He does seem to be one of the less popular major 19th century writers, especially considering how popular he was at the time. I blame the lack of TV adaptations :-)

I think I know part of the story from one of the essays in Is Heathcliff a Murderer? but I don't know how much of the story I know (if that makes sense).

I'm currently at the end of chapter 4 and have found it interesting so far. It's reminded me of how much I like Edinburgh as a city The Scots dialogue has me flipping back and forth to the glossary every other word and I can't help thinking I would get a smoother reading experience if I didn't fuss so much about understanding every word and just went with the flow instead.

The aspect of this novel addressed in Is Heathcliff A Murderer? very much relates to the reason I wanted to read it...but we'll talk about that later. :)

I'm currently lagging behind you - I'm knuckling down today to catching up my LT reviews (done!!) and at least one blog review, and I still have a few pages of my previous read to finish - but after that I will settle in Scott so that we can talk about it properly.

Chapter 1 - which has nothing to do with anything - or does it?

I'm trying to decide what to think about the presentation of The Heart Of Midlothian - with the preface of Jedediah Cleishbothan to the tale supposedly told by Peter Pattieson, which is in turn an account of a story told by the two young men from the coach accident.

While each of these layers has its own attractions and voice, I think this is one of the reasons that modern readers tend to get impatient with Scott. It seems as if he enjoys putting barriers between his audience and the story proper.

The introduction of the two young men does prepare us for a very legal story, and we are eased into a Scotland of the past with its own way of conducting criminal law - what other benefits do you think accrue from Scott's delayed beginning?

Chapters 2-4

In which we slide into the Scotland of one hundred years before, with an account of real criminals and criminal trials. Scott's novel is based upon a true story - but still he takes care to place it in the historical context of a far more famous true story, the Porteous riot of 1736, and then winds his fictionalised story into the threads of the real-life one.

I'm taking these chapters slowly because they're stuffed with historical references that I feel compelled to stop and check - how are you going? What do you think so far?

At the moment I feel like I have lots of questions and very few answers.

Chapter 1

The prelude/introduction by Jedediah Cleishbotham reminded me slightly of Walpole's preface(s) to The Castle of Otranto. At first I wondered if Scott was doing something similar and trying to convince his readers that this was a true history and not a novel but the tone of Jedediah's preface seems too comical and as far as I know no-one took this for a work of history rather than a novel when first reading it so I don't really think this idea works.

I'm puzzled by chapter one, I enjoyed it but I don't understand it or why it needs to be there at the moment. I'm hoping that it will slowly come into perspective as I get further into the book.

Chapters 2-4

Another question that I hope I will be able to answer once I've read the whole book; why has Scott chosen to set Effie Dean's story against the Porteus Riots? I think this might be another reason modern readers find Scott difficult to get into. Readers in the early 18th century might have known about the Porteus Riots but I don't think most modern readers would have. So reading this as a modern reader, you not only have to get into an 1818 mindset but then you have to also get into the mindset an 1818 author thinks someone in the 1730s would have. It's interesting that my next Dickens is set during the Gordon Riots of 1780 which again, were presumably considered important at the time Dickens was writing but have probably been largely forgotten by most people nowadays.

I haven't been checking the historical references but I have felt compelled to read every one of the editor's notes (and Scott's 1830 notes) and to look up all the Scot's dialect and to try to find maps of Edinburgh in the eighteenth century online so, yes, it's been a fairly slow pace :-)

Chapters 5-7

In which we get hints of Effie Dean and then the riot!

Chapter 5 took me quite a while to get through because of the dialogue and all the legal puns (my Latin is not very good). I got through chapters 6 and 7 much faster and found the descriptions of the mob and the storming of the Tolbooth and subsequent scenes quite exciting.

Scott does seem very concerned to give a lot of historical detail to the Porteus story - almost like he's trying to reassure the readers that what he's telling them is what really happened (or very close to it). And again, I find myself wondering why...

Liz, I'm worried I'm not going to be very helpful on this shared read.

Well, this time I'm not here to tutor - I'm here to ask questions too!

It is odd to find such an artificial "this is a true story" introduction to what essentially *is* a true story - I can't see how it was necessary, and an essentially comic lead-in to such a grim story was jarring; unless that was deliberate?

i think Scott used the Porteous Riot (apart from it being just an incredibly vivid episode that no historical novelist could help but want to take a crack at) to prepare the reader for not only the conduct of Scottish law, but for the behaviour of Scottish crowds according to how they felt about the criminal. So you don't just have the immediate threat to Effie of the legal system, there's the secondary threat posed by a mob that might feel she deserves to hang.

I was surprised at the way we started in the middle of Effie's story.

Effie's situation is the reason I wanted to read this particular novel, BTW, but I'll say more about that a bit later.

Just found this thread and following with interest. I read H of M about 25 years ago, and can't remember much about it now except that I did enjoy it and found it rather different from some of Scott's other novels, not least in being so centred on Edinburgh and the reasonably recent past rather than more distant/romantic settings like the Highlands or medieval England or continental Europe - I was reading lots of him at the time. I don't recall any of those framing chapters at the beginning.

#12 Hi Genny :-)

#11 Yes, still puzzling over that introduction. And now you mention it, I'm also surprised that most of Effie's story has happened.

I allowed myself to be distracted by Dickens today and started Barnaby Rudge only to find that the editor of this particular edition thinks Dickens drew on The Heart of Midlothian a lot for this novel - so hooray! How serendipitous. So what I was going to say was that I haven't read any more HoM yet but I am hoping to get another couple of chapters done tonight and I think I'm still on track based on our reading plan in msg #1. How are you finding the pace?

Re, the Porteous Riots, I did a bit of reading about it today and was quite surprised to discover that Scott had changed the details about Robertson's escape so that in the book, Robertson escapes thanks to Wilson's diversion in the cathedral but only after Wilson has inadvertently prevented him from escaping through the bars of the cell window. In real life, it seems Robertson escapes through the cell window and flees to the Netherlands, not returning to take part in the riots.

Scott's version made me feel more sympathetic to Wilson, so assuming he didn't just get the details wrong, was he perhaps trying to direct his readers' sympathies towards Wilson and the mob and against Porteous? Although my editor notes that Scott's differences were 'trivial' so presumably he didn't think it was very important.

Hi, Genny! Welcome!

My edition noted some alterations to the facts about Wilson and Robertson, but mostly in the compression of the timeline. What Scott writes is more dramatic. I'm inclined to agree with you rather than your editor about the building of sympathy, but I think it is about something other than the Porteous situation. We'll see. :)

Well---since the novel has plunged straight into Effie's situation, I'll likewise get straight into why I wanted to read this particular Walter Scott novel.

For my blog, I ended up reading and reviewing two works, Vernacular Bodies by Mary Fissell and Reproductive Rituals by Angus McLaren, which dealt with the shifting views and beliefs about conception, pregancy and childbirth in Britain over the 16th - 19th centuries; fascinating stuff, but often (from a female perspective) quite distressing. McLaren's book in particular focuses on the medico-legal aspects of human reproduction, and the way during the 19th century there was an enormous push by the medical profession to take control of pregancy and childbirth away from women.

His book also deals with the 18th century infanticide laws - which brings us back to the point of The Heart Of Midlothian and why I wanted to read it. (There is a second well-known 19th century novel that deals with this, but I won't mention the title in case it's a spoiler for anyone.)

The overriding point, as the novel says, is that these were presumptive laws; the burden of proof was on the defendent. It was also a case of society almost creating the situation it then punished. As we've seen, an unmarried, pregant woman would be a literal outcast who brought shame on her entire family. To attempt to conceal her pregnancy would have been the most natural impulse in the world under the circumstances - and yet the infanticide law is built upon the assumption that the concealment itself is indicative of guilt. And of course, by "concealing", the law meant "not verbally admitting it to anyone" - the fact that everyone could SEE a girl was pregnant did not mean she was not concealing it.

The second aspect of the law was "failure to call for help" during labour, which was a lot less straightforward than it seemed. A girl in this situation wasn't going to have "respectable" help - if she had any help at all, it was likely to be from a part-time midwife who was also a part-time baby-farmer or abortionist, and therefore highly unlikely to come forward to testify on the girl's behalf. The defendent would be asked to prove that the baby was born dead or died of natural causes, but how could she without respectable witnesses? We only have to consider what the rate of infant mortality was at the time under the best of conditions to know what it would have been for girls like Effie.

So this is how Effie has been charged: she concealed her pregnancy (by not telling anyone), she didn't call for help during her labour (that anyone knows of) and the baby is missing, presumed dead, therefore presumed murdered.

Chapter 8 - 12: In which we are properly introduced to the Deans and Butler families

Here Scott gets around to filling in the back-story, with Reuben Butler acting as the bridge from the Porteous Riots to Effie's story.

In between a lot of Scottish history, we are made aware of Davie Deans' hardcore Presbyterianism - it isn't hard to see why Effie would have resorted to "concealing her pregnancy". We also learn of the long "understanding" between Reuben and Jeanie, now threatened by her pride and his doubts.

This is a crucial section of the novel, and one that a lot of people (including John Sutherland) have raised objections about.

How credible is it that neither Mrs Saddletree nor Jeanie knew of Effie's pregnancy?

Even if Mrs Saddletree was sick for months, how could she not know what was going on? Did she have no visitors? Didn't she have a housemaid who would have seen and said something?

Why didn't Jeanie visit her sister for months on end?

On the actual evidence in the novel, I disagree with John Sutherland's reading of Jeanie deliberately punishing Effie by refusing to "see" her pregnancy. We are given no hint of any deep discord between the two that would move Jeanie to an act that cruel. Besides, it is not a case of Jeanie visiting and then staying away - we're told she never went.

Is this just a failure on Scott's part? Can we find another interpretation? (I keep trying to envisage what Effie's clothes would have looked like - how long could a girl successfully hide a pregnancy?)

My other question for this section is - why is Reuben so quick to doubt Jeanie, when he encounters the stranger?

Thanks for the background on the infanticide laws Liz.

Slightly slower than planned, I've now reached the end of chapter 12. I got caught up in trying to read up about the Jacobite Risings, the Glorious Revolution and the history of the Presbyterian church so that I could understand what the Laird of Dumbiedikes was talking about.

Initially I thought Scott was overdoing the family history slightly but as you point out above, it does help us understand Effie's reaction to her pregnancy and the relationship between Reuben and Jeanie.

I also found it very strange that neither the Saddletrees nor Jeanie noticed Effie's pregnancy. I don't agree with Sutherland's explanation that Jeanie was angry with Effie - that seems to go directly against chapter 10 which says 'Jeanie parted from her sister, with a mixed feeling of regret, and apprehension, and hope.' And I also don't think his comment that Jeanie must have known Effie was pregnant to deduce without being told that Effie had just had a baby is necessarily correct. It says Effie fell into a hysterical fit during which she may have made enough incoherent comments for Jeanie to guess what had happened.

I'm still trying to think what on earth kept Mrs Saddletree in her room for months. My only theory so far is that perhaps Mrs Saddletree was pregnant and miscarried - which might explain why the book is so mysteriously silent about what was wrong with her and might also explain why servants didn't want to mention Effie's suspected pregnancy?

But still, even imagining Effie looked as little pregnant as one can at an advanced stage and wore loose clothes I still find it quite hard to believe. Unless, once her pregnancy was fairly far along she made the decision to have an abortion - would that be feasible or likely for the period? Scott is vague about timings ('ere many months had passed') and it would mean that Effie was technically guilty of infanticide and I don't know how that fits with the rest of the book. But it would also explain how she knew the exact timings to ask for a couple of weeks holiday. I think it's more believable that a 5 or 6 month pregnancy could be kept hidden with loose clothes.

In contrast, I found Reuben's doubts about Jeanie believable I think can't say that I liked him for them but...) In the context of a long engagement where he has always been conscious of the Laird of Dumbiedike hanging around and making eyes at Jeanie and given that Reuben got unwillingly caught up in a riot and had no sleep the night before, I can understand him being a little paranoid and oversensitive.

Yes, I guess on the back of Reuben's overnight experiences, that's not unreasonable - but I would have preferred him to give Jeanie the benefit of the doubt at first, even if he later grew angry when she refused to (or couldn't) answer his questions.

The Laird was surely only a threat via pressure from Davie - not from the point of view of what Jeanie wanted. :)

My only theory so far is that perhaps Mrs Saddletree was pregnant and miscarried

That's a better explanation than I've heard from anyone else on this subject. We don't know how old Mrs Saddletree is - but that might add to it - a pregnancy late in life and a miscarriage might indeed make her seriously ill for an extended period.

And yes, if that was the nature of her illness it might explain Scott's reticence. This is where novels of this time become difficult for the modern reader - you have to do so much reading between the lines, and you don't know if you're reading what you were meant to read!

Women did have abortions at that time, but it would be an early pregnancy move, not a late one. It's possible that during her early months Effie didn't know what was happening, and that by the time she did, it was too late. I don't think we're supposed to infer an abortion - I think we're supposed to read the missing week between the Saddletrees' and the Deans' as when she delivered a full-term baby.

Anyway---having reached the end of Chapter 12, I obediently put the book down for a couple of days (not like me at all!), and waited to the end of the week before proceeding. I will now pick it up again!

I got caught up in trying to read up about...the Glorious Revolution

If you like that sort of thing, I can recommend my blog to you with a clear conscience - at least after I catch up my outstanding reviews. I'm devoting this year to the demise of James II, and the propaganda that helped to bring it about.

Chapter 13: In which Reuben Butler finds himself in hot water...

Calling at the Tollbooth to visit Effie, Reuben ends up in a cell of his own under suspicion of being one of the active members of the mob, after he was compelled by the rioters to minister to James Porteous. His entirely sensible decision not to try and free himself from the mob comes back to bite him, as to onlookers it seemed that he was part of the crowd. He also has no credible witnesses to testify that he was acting under duress - while his natural lack of disguise means that he is the one person no-one has any trouble identifying. We note the exaggerated testimony against him of the frightened gate-keepers. Reuben is caught here between his desire to clear himself, and his desire not to drag the Deans into his troubles.

On the other hand---Reuben's confinement means that he won't be able to stop Jeanie from keeping her appointment...

I like Scott's snarkiness here, as the local authorities rush to shut the stable door:

He was conducted from prison strongly guarded by a party of soldiers, with a parade of precaution, that, however ill-timed and unnecessary, is generally displayed after an event, which such precaution, if used in time, might have prevented...

We are also introduced to James Ratcliffe, who seems on his way to a rapid promotion from condemned man to hangman.

#17 Thanks for the reminder about your blog - it hadn't occurred to me to try looking there for some reason. I think part of the problem was that I didn't know it was the Glorious Revolution I wanted to read about until I'd done some trawling through wikipedia.

I felt like I should have foreseen problems for Reuben returning to the Tolbooth in Ch 13 but then it seems that Reuben didn't think there would be either. I also liked Scott's comment about the additional precautions taken by the authorities after the riot :-)

I haven't been able to find much information about Robertson or James Ratcliffe so I'm assuming that this is where Scott was going beyond the historical events to tie things into the Effie Dean storyline. So far, I quite like Ratcliffe - the phrase 'set s thief to catch a thief'kept coming to mind.

Chapter 14 & 15

In which Jeanie sets off to keep her mysterious appointment...

"Yet firmly believing the possibility of an encounter so terrible to flesh and blood, Jeanie, with a degree of resolution of which we cannot sufficiently estimate the merit, because the incredulity of the age has rendered us strangers to the nature and extent of her feelings, persevered in her determination not to omit an opportunity of doing something towards saving her sister, although in the attempt to avail herself of it she might be exposed to dangers so dreadful to her imagination."

The brief background Scott gives us to the presbyterian ideas about witchcraft and daemonology made for interesting reading although I, like the early 19th century readers, struggled to empathise with Jeanie's fears that she might be about to meet with some sort of emissary from the devil. I also felt sorry for the poor chap that drowned in the river in the story because John Semple decided he was the Great Enemy.

However, I could empathise with Jeanie's general fears about walking in such a desolate and spooky place on her own in the evening and when we got to the point where Robertson suddenly appears I would have been pretty close to screaming too.

When she was within two yards of the heap of stones, a figure rose suddenly up from behind it, and Jeanie scarce forebore to scream aloud..."

From Jeanie's conversation with Robertson I was surprised to hear that Effie's baby had been murdered by whoever it was helped her give birth. I'd assumed that the baby had died of natural causes. There still seems to be some mystery to Robertson and his relationship with Effie which I hope will become clearer as the story progresses.

And unsurprisingly, Jeanie won't lie even if it will save Effie.

The tall black man...yes, that gave me some very nasty qualms.

Jeanie's lack of equivocation over lying is interestingly contrasted by an increasing pattern of avoidance of her father - what he doesn't know, he can't forbid her to do.

So we find out the truth about Effie. The trouble is, as the statute is written the truth is no use to her at all; on the contrary.

#21 "The trouble is, as the statute is written the truth is no use to her at all; on the contrary." - because Effie can't prove the baby died of natural causes and the real murderess won't come forward?

Which leaves me with the question of why the baby was murdered by this unknown woman - hopefully there will be an answer later on.

Chapters 15 & 16

These two chapters struck me as quite comic, almost farcical. Sharpitlaw and his officers are roaming across the countryside in the dark accompanied by a crazy prostitute who keeps breaking into song and Ratcliff, who is doing his best to ensure they don't catch Robertson without letting Sharpitlaw know that that's what he's trying to do. It could have been one of Shakespeare's comic interludes.

Sharpitlaw may be 'eager and acute at law' but he's not very adroit at questioning people. Ratcliffe seems to have more brains than all of the officers of the law put together.

Why does Sharpitlaw think finding Robertson will help Effie? I know they realise that Robertson is the father now and presumably Robertson would be willing to testify that Effie had told him of her pregnancy (although I'm not sure whether she did) but would the court take the word of a convicted criminal who is hardly unbiased as sufficient proof to get her off the charge?

I'm also trying to work out whether there's more of a connection between Ratcliffe and Robertson than we're aware of or whether Ratcliffe would have had similar qualms at giving information on any escaped prisoner.

Chapters 17 & 18 - In which we learn a great deal about several of our characters

Sharpitlaw may have suspected that Robertson knew about the circumstances of Effie's pregnancy and the birth of the child, but now he gets firmer proof of it. Robertson has twice demonstrated his concern for Effie, first by going to her in the middle of the riot and now, more importantly for Effie's sake, by sending a letter declaring her innocence (and, incidentally, Reueben's!).

But of course, Sharpitlaw has less interest in getting the truth about Effie out of Robertson than he has in getting Robertson's whereabouts out of Effie.

We also see the other side of Ratcliffe's face here, in his dealings with Jeanie, and learn of Maggie Murdockson's passionate love for her "crazed" daughter, with whom Robertson was apparently intimate before he met Effie, and who still carries a torch for him.

Most critically, we witness the meeting of Davie Deans and Middleburgh the magistrate, who tries to make Davie see Effie's situation in earthly terms. Robertson's (false) assertion that Jeanie has evidence that can save Effie's life has led to her being subpoenaed to testify; presumably having overcome Effie's principles, it doesn't occur to him that Jeanie won't commit perjury, under the circumstances.

Meanwhile, not knowing where the real point of contention lies, Middleburgh thinks it is only Cameronian rejection of civil authorities he has to contend with - and does a pretty good job of it:

"...if, from any constrained scruples about the legality of her performing the office of an affectionate sister and a good subject, by appearing in a court held under the authority of the law and government, you become the means of deterring her from the discharge of this duty, I must say, though the truth may sound harsh in your ears, that you, who gave life to this unhappy girl, will become the means of her losing it by a premature and violent death."

Poor Mr Middleburgh! He thought he'd won his battle, with his parting shot and his strategic retreat. It's hard to know exactly how to react to Davie - would you call him infuriatingly honest? For all the grimness here, I'm amused by the inference that Jeanie has learnt to let most of what her father says just slide past her without even trying to understand him; more power to her! But the bottom line is that we know, in her more practical way, she is as unmovable as Davie himself. In fact, as things turn out, much more so...

I love it when books cross one another. :)

I recently read and reviewed E. P. Thompson's Whigs And Hunters, about the introduction of "the Black Act" in 1723, which added more than 200 new capital offenses to English law, all of them for crimes against property. The drafter of the act, and also one of its abusers, was Philip Yorke, later created the Earl of Hardwicke.

Now in The Heart Of Midlothian, we find Scott recurring to the Duke of Argyle's passionate speech against the measures intended to punish Edinburgh in the wake of the Porteous Riot:

...and upon this very occasion of the Porteous mob, the animated and eloquent opposition which he had offered to the severe measures which were about to be adopted towards the city of Edinburgh, was the more gratefully received in that metropolis, as it was understood that the Duke's interposition had given personal offence to Queen Caroline... He retorted upon the Chancellor, Lord Hardwicke...

The endnote to this passage comments of Hardwicke, "The measures proposed by him against the city of Edinburgh were far harsher than those finally taken..."

Obviously a thoroughly pleasant chap.

So where are you up to? I want to argue about something in Chapter 23! :)

#25 Er, not quite there yet. I did read some more yesterday evening and I was going to come and post but then I fell asleep (not because of the book). I will read chapter 23 this evening.

Chapters 17 & 18

"We also see the other side of Ratcliffe's face here" - yes, I have to admit I found I liked him less after the scene with Jeanie and Ratcliffe at the beginning of chapter 18.

I think infuriatingly honest fits Davie Deans but there's also something about the way he allows himself to get distracted from he fact that his youngest daughter is in danger of being sentenced to death by arguing about religious ethics/theology but I can't quite think of the right word to describe that. Pedantic doesn't quite seem to cover it. But infuriating, yes.

Chapters 19 & 20

I like Jeanie and ended up feeling quite sorry for her here, having to deal with Davie trying to help by leaving it to her conscience and talking to her at cross-purposes and then the visit to Effie and coming under pressure from Effie and Ratcliffe to testify in Effie's defence. It was interesting that Effie didn't seem to know what had happened to her baby - or am I reading that wrong?

And then in chapter 21 Davie decides he will go to the trial with Jeanie.

No, you're reading that right - it emerges that she had puerperal fever and by the time she recovered, the baby was gone.

I'll leave you alone for a while longer, but then I want to go back to the question of why Jeanie didn't know about the pregnancy - because I'm not sure Scott doesn't contradict himself. I need to do some close reading...

Right, I'm there now.

Chapter 22 & 23 - The Trial of Euphemia Deans

Given what we know of Effie, Jeanie and Davie's characters so far no real surprises here from the three of them. I thought the trial was very pathetically portrayed by Scott (using the original sense of the word) especially given the fact that we knew what was going to happen. In the words of the Judge:

"if they.... could come to a conclusion favourable to this unhappy prisoner, he should rejoice as much as any one in Court; for never had he found his duty more distressing than in discharging it that day, and glad he would be to be relieved from the still more painful task, which would otherwise remain for him."

I was surprised that Jeanie had 'remarked her sister's health to be altered during the latter part of the term, when she had lived with Mrs Saddletree.' as I had somehow got it into my head that Jeanie hadn't seen Effie during her pregnancy. So I went all the way back to chapter 10 to check and found that:

"Jeanie was so much occupied, during the same period, with the concerns of her father's household, that she had rarely found leisure for a walk into the city, and a brief and hurried visit to her sister. The young women therefore, had scarcely seen each other for several months..."

which on my original reading I took to mean they hadn't seen each other at all for several months but on rereading it doesn't quite say what I originally thought it did.

But Jeanie told Robertson in chapter 15 that when she did question Effie about her altered looks Effie 'never spoke to me on the subject, but grat sorely when I spoke to her about her altered looks, and the change on her spirits.' Now if that were my sister, even if I didn't guess that she was pregnant (and again, how do you not notice someone is pregnant once they've got beyond a certain point), the crying and the altered looks would worry me sufficiently that I would want to keep an eye on her. So what were Jeanie's concerns in her father's household that so distracted her from worrying about her sister? The trial seems to indicate that she did see Effie long enough to question her during the latter part of her pregnancy which was not how I read chapter 10.

We also got confirmation in the trial that the woman (or women) who had assisted Effie at the birth killed the baby. Now I have a strong suspicion that this was Meg Murdockson and her daughter. They are hardly going to come forward of their own free will to be hanged themselves but why can't Effie name them? Why did Robertson say in chapter 15 that 'the deed was done by those who are far enough from pursuit, and safe enough from discovery' when (in chapter 15) Meg and Madge were still wandering round Edinburgh or in custody. Admittedly, by the time we get to the trial they had skipped town. Does Effie really think they have the baby alive? Or has she given up by this point?

Also if Robertson handed himself in and testified that Effie had told him of her pregnancy (which presumably she had) wouldn't that get Effie off? So why doesn't he do that even if it would mean his own death if he does care so much about her? And, and, doesn't the letter he wrote to Effie prove that she'd told someone about her condition?

Chapter 24 onwards is going to bed with me.

What Jeanie knew and when she knew it is exactly what's bugging me!

At the trial (Chapter 23) - emphasis mine:

...he asked, "Whether she had not remarked her sister's state of health to be altered, during the latter part of the term when she had lived with Mrs Saddletree?"
Jeanie answered in the affirmative...

"Pray, young woman, did you ask your sister any question when you observed her looking unwell? - take courage - speak out."
"I asked her," replied Jeanie, "what ailed her."

But as you point out, in Chapter 10 we get:

...Jeanie was so much occupied, during the same period, with the concerns of her father's household, that she had rarely found leisure for a walk into the city, and a brief and hurried visit to her sister. The young women therefore, had scarcely seen each other for several months..."

"Scarcely" does not mean "not at all". How long does a visit have to be for a woman to realise that her kid sister is pregnant? It doesn't help, either, that elsewhere Scott talks about how eagled-eyed women are in these situations - nor that every time we see Jeanie and Effie together, they embrace tightly.

The kicker, though, is when both Mr Saddletree and Mr Middleburgh set out from Edinburgh to walk to St Leonards, and we are told it takes only 45 minutes! Jeanie couldn't spare two hours a week to check on a girl who is living away from home for the first time, and exposed to the temptations of the city?

You can see from this where John Sutherland gets his "she looked the other way" theory from - but I still say this reading is in complete opposition of what we know and learn of Jeanie, where on those rare occasions she does something she knows or thinks is wrong, she stops and pulls herself back into line. She may not have given her away to their father, but there's no way she would have left Effie to her own devices if she'd known.

Sad to say, I think this is just sloppy work by Scott. What he needed to do was provide Jeanie with double duty - say, a neighbour dying and she needing to look after their children and cows until the relatives could come, as well as do her own work - that held her in St Leonards.

Do we have any other interpretations?

I also admit I'm confused about the way that Effie's statement is used - it seems they can use it to condemn her, but not exonerate her. I suppose, though, Robertson's letter can't be accepted as testimony (even if they believe him).

At this time defendents weren't allowed to speak on their own behalf, so the fact that Effie refused to answer certain questions when first interrogated becomes her final response to those questions. Consequently, she's not asked again about the circumstances of her labour, or the women who were there.

(Although it could be worse - I believe that in England at the time, criminals could only be legally defended if they were accused of treason.)

#29 "every time we see Jeanie and Effie together, they embrace tightly." Yes, good point.

And I also agree with you regarding Sutherland's looked the other way theory. Nothing in the way Jeanie behaves once Effie arrives home seems to indicate that that was what she'd done.

Unfortunately, I can't think of another explanation. Scott needed Jeanie to have not seen Effie in the latter part of her pregnancy so that she could be unaware of it and he needed her to have seen Effie in the latter part of her pregnancy so that she could be called as a witness at her trial for dramatic effect.

#30 Ah, thanks for that. I hadn't noticed they didn't question Effie at the trial until you mentioned it!

I saw on your thread that you have finished(!) so I really need to get reading. I did make some more progress this evening:

Chapter 24-28

Effie's sentenced to death and then a throw-away comment from Mrs Saddletree gives Jeanie the idea of walking to London to beg for her pardon.

I think I knew that Jeanie walked barefoot to London but I hadn't realised that was because that was how Scottish people of that class walked at that time. I had an idea it was some kind of extra penance on Jeanie's part rather than wanting to save her shoes for best. And in fact, once she reaches England she does put her shoes and stockings on to avoid comments from the English.

I was musing yesterday on why I like Jeanie so much more than Davie when you could describe both as someone unwilling to compromise their principles for other people and then came across this passage in chapter 25:

"Without departing from filial reverence, Jeanie had an inward conviction that the feelings of her father, however just, and upright, and honourable, were too little in unison with the spirit of the time to admit of his being a good judge of the measure to be adopted in this crisis. Herself more flexible in manner, though no less upright in principle, ..."

Although Davie and Jeanie would probably both have refused to lie for Effie, I liked Jeanie more for wrestling with the decision and caring so much whereas Davie seemed to give up on Effie without a fight or a struggle.

In chapter 26 when Jeanie arrives at Dumbiedike's house:

In this inner court, not without a sense of bashfulness and timidity, stood Jeanie Deans at an early hour in a fine spring morning. She was no heroine of romance and therefore looked with some curiosity and interest on the mansion-house and domains"

The no heroine comment made me smile thinking of the conversations on the Northanger Abbey thread.

And then in chapter 28 Jeanie has reached York safely. I'm trying to work out whether it would really have been feasible for a young country-girl to walk that far on her own and not get robbed or molested, notwithstanding Ratcliffe's note. And every single robber between Edinburgh and London would have heard of Ratcliffe and known not to cross him?

My girl, you are Scott's dream audience! Keep reading... :)

I have finished, but that's no reason for you to rush it; I just got onto a roll with it - and actually, I think you'll find from here on it's an easier read (partly because more action, less dialect).

Two other thoughts at this point: there's a nice piece of authorial manipulation here. Davie himself is utterly infuriating throughout this sequence, yet honestly, when Mr Saddletree gets hold of him you can only wince and flinch in sympathy - nobody deserves that!

Yet it is also the awful Mr Saddletree who speaks for everyone when he shakes his head over all the grim machinery of law being used to kill a young girl, and who contradicts the judge's absolutism and speaks of the possibility of a pardon.

I am fascinated by how sympathetic this novel is towards Effie - a Regency novel, of course, not a Victorian one. The latter would surely have taken the stance that Effie deserved anything she got; whereas this one is clearly, yeah, okay, she sinned, but let's not get carried away!

It's interesting that in that other novel that deals with the infanticide laws (do you know which book I mean, by the way?), which was a Victorian novel, the girl is actually guilty.

I've made quite a lot of progress over the weekend but realise now that I have been neglecting to write down my thoughts as they occur to me - I was so sure at the time that I would remember them without any problems. A notebook and pen will be added to my bedside table tonight.

#32 "My girl, you are Scott's dream audience! Keep reading... :)" I'm very pleased, although slightly bemused by the compliment. I hope it's a compliment :-)

"I am fascinated by how sympathetic this novel is towards Effie" - I hadn't picked up on that until you mentioned it but you're right. I don't think I do know which novel the other novel is, which hopefully means it's one I haven't read rather than one which I have read but forgotten a major plot point.

Chapter 29-34

"I'm trying to work out whether it would really have been feasible for a young country-girl to walk that far on her own and not get robbed or molested" - I spoke too soon!

I wouldn't describe the earlier parts of this book as slow, but the number of important plot points that got explained in these chapters left me feeling rather breathless.

We find out exactly what Meg and Madge's connection to Robertson was and get an explanation for Madge's madness. Then Jeanie manages to escape with Madge and is about to get some assistance from Mr Staunton when suddenly...

"A terrible recollection flashed on Jeanie, which every tone of the speaker confirmed, and which his next words rendered certainty.

'Be composed - remember Muschat's Cairn, and the moonlight night.' "

At which point I exclaimed 'What?!' so loudly that my husband had to ask me what was wrong.

George Robertson is George Staunton?! I did not see that coming.

Poor Jeanie and George are chalk and cheese - neither of them can understand the other's personality. I can see what a breath of fresh air George must have seemed to poor Effie compared to family life. He is so very romantic and emotional though. Exclaiming "the devil take the puritan!" and then "I speak calmly to you" in almost the same breath.

And then piling even more complex ethical decisions on to Jeanie, George gives her permission to offer his life for Effie's in London. Although George is very repentant and full of regret (almost too full - I kept wanting to give him a shake and tell him to stop wailing and start doing something to help Effie instead), and I think his repentance and regret is genuine, it's still Jeanie who ends up carrying the burden of the decision. And if it strikes me that all these men (meaning Davie and George) who should be taking responsibility for the situation are leaving it all up to a woman, wouldn't it strike early nineteenth century readers even more?

I also wanted to say that I've started reading John Buchan's Witch Wood as my commuting read, on the grounds that if I'm going to read one historical novel written in Scots dialect, I might as well read two. I think Witch Wood is set about a century before HoM but it's giving me some more background on Presbyterian thought and I'm starting to feel really interested in Scottish literature and Scottish history. As if I need another reading project...

It's probably important generally to keep in mind that Scott was raised Presbyterian, struggled with its restrictions and rules, and finally - lapsed, or converted, whichever is the better way of looking at it. He admires Jeanie, but he doesn't necessarily believe that her way and Davie's is "right".

#32 "My girl, you are Scott's dream audience! Keep reading... :)" I'm very pleased, although slightly bemused by the compliment. I hope it's a compliment :-)

Um...

It was just that I got a funny mental image while I was reading your earlier post:

(Heather reads): "I'm trying to work out whether it would really have been feasible for a young country-girl to walk that far on her own and not get robbed or molested..." (turns page) "Oh! She just got robbed and molested!"

Sorry! :)

If you don't know what "other" novel I'm talking about, I'm glad I didn't say. And I won't make a particular comparison between it and THOM, either. (Of course, now I have to wait for you to stumble across it by accident!)

I don't think the early chapters are slow action-wise, but the density of the dialogue made them a struggle for me. Once the action became divided between Jeanie's head and Jeanie's feet, so to speak, I found it easier-going.

Oh, yes! Isn't it hilarious how posterity has completely misinterpreted Jeanie's bare-footed walk!?

No, I didn't see George Staunton coming, either.

You make a great point about the burdens that keep being piled on Jeanie - now literally having a man's life placed in her hands, and again faced with a terrible choice - can she, in effect, take a life to save Effie?

It is interesting how the men in this novel are all talk, while the women take all the action; that's even true of Meg and Madge. Scott's point seems to be that regardless of who has the power and makes the decisions, it's the women who ultimately have to deal with the practicalities.

I look forward to your thoughts on Witch Wood. I haven't read that yet. When it comes to the dialect, you're a braver woman than I!

#34 Thanks for the background on Scott - that's useful to know.

(Heather reads): "I'm trying to work out whether it would really have been feasible for a young country-girl to walk that far on her own and not get robbed or molested..." (turns page) "Oh! She just got robbed and molested!" - Indeed! :-)

I think the end is in sight as I've just reached chapter 47 and only have 50 pages left!

I can't think of much to say about the Duke of Argyle and Queen Caroline. There was one comment the Duke made to Jeanie in chapter 35 which struck me. "You are a singular young woman," said the Duke. "You seem to me to think of every one before yourself"

Then Jeanie's journey back to Scotland, some comic relief from Mrs Dutton and the death of Meg and Madge - Madge's death left me strangely unaffected. Perhaps I've become too used to Dickens' more over the top and sentimental death scenes?

And then the happy-ending; for Davie, Jeanie and Butler anyway. I'm not sure what to make of Effie's marriage. Is Scott expecting his readers to think that marriage to Staunton as her lover and the father of her baby is all that she can hope for now even if it may be an unhappy marriage? Or is marriage to Staunton the happy ending for Effie too as it would be a better life for her than spending the rest of her days with Davie's condemnations ringing in her ears? I also wasn't quite sure how Effie felt about Jeanie's denial at the trial from her letter to Butler in chapter 44.

"On her bended knees would she pray for Jeanie, night and day, baith for what she had done, and what she had scorned to do, in her behalf; for what a thought would it have been to her at that moment o'time, if that upright creature had made a fault to save her."

To me, that seemed to imply that Effie would have felt better if Jeanie had sinned for her - both because it would show how much Jeanie loved her and because it would make Jeanie less perfect and above her.

Chapter 43, where Davie slowly talks himself into believing it would be ok for Reuben to accept the candidacy of the local kirk, made me smile. And Reuben wisely deciding to 'permit David Deans to expatiate at length upon the proposal, in all its bearings, without irritating him either by interruption or contradiction'. Very different from the conversations they had earlier in the book.

Did you find the second half of the novel easier going too?

I'm torn over the way this novel ends. On one hand I kind of admire Scott for not stopping where a novel "should" stop - "They all lived happily ever after, except the people who didn't deserve to". On the other, it's fairly evident he had a four-volume novel to fill.

As far as that goes, I'm not even sure he knew how he felt about the ending.

With that passage from Effie, I think it depends on how you read for what a thought it would have been. It might mean, what a terrible thing it would have been if Jeanie had lied - although I like your interpretation of Effie wishing Jeanie was a little less perfect. :)

In retrospect I thought the whole section with the connections between the Stauntons and Meg was well done; it avoided too much coincidence, and gave us good reason both for Madge knowing the minister and also for a spot near his house being where Jeanie was waylaid.

I'm glad you're past the meeting with the Queen, because I nearly jumped in early yesterday. I think I've caught Scott out on a minor point of historical fiddling. Weirdly enough, the book I'm reading now by Rosemary Baird, Mistress Of The House, has a passage on the relationship between Queen Caroline and Lady Suffolk - Scott suggests that the Queen having her husband's mistress as her companion was a matter of keeping her enemies close; Baird suggests that, rather, Caroline was grateful to her for keeping the king busy and away from her. It also suggests that Lady Suffolk was a very reluctant mistress, but financially didn't have a choice after she separated from her horrible husband.

But - Lord Suffolk died in 1733, and in 1735 his widow remarried. She left the Court to live in the country with her husband, and would not have been present for the meeting in 1736...

...although you certainly wouldn't want to give up Jeanie's blundering speeches about adultery and unkind parents!

Well, now I know I won't step on your toes, I can safely comment on something that struck me more and more as the novel went on - the number, and the size, of secrets that Jeanie keeps from Reuben!

I suppose this hits me so very hard because all through Victorian literature a wife keeping a secret from her husband is a HUGE no-no that invariably ends in disaster. There's also Mary Elizabeth Barddon's Aurora Floyd, where the heroine's fiancé breaks off their engagement because he finds out she's been keeping a secret from him.

Yet here Jeanie repeatedly makes up her mind not to tell Reuben what's going on, and is never criticised for it, let alone punished. Granted, most of the secrets are not really hers to tell - but I'm sure that fifty years later, no novelist would have dared take that point of view.

I particularly like, "Here's a thousand pounds, but I'm not going to tell you where I got it." "Oh, okay." :)

I really did find the second half of the novel easier to read. Partly that I'd got used to the dialect, partly that was less dialect, partly more action and also less history I needed to look up.

I was really taken aback by the ending. I expected it to finish when Jeanie and Butler married and it felt really strange when it didn't. it did make me laugh though, after writing about the happy ending in msg 35, I tuned the page and poof! - no happy ending for George and Effie.

On the four volume novel point, my edition had an editor's note at one section saying that the fourth volume 'disproportionately large' which made me think the long ending might have been Scott getting carried away or wanting a long ending rather than a need to fill pages.

Thanks for your comments about possible interpretations of 'what a thought it would have been' and the Staunton/Meg connection - as always, they are very helpful :-)

And I will bow to your greater knowledge of Lady Suffolk in this case, although as you say, Jeanie's blundering speeches were priceless!

The secrets point is really interesting - I hadn't thought about how a woman doing so would be viewed at that time. I'd only really considered it from Reuben's point of view and how unimpressed I would be if my husband refused to tell me where he'd mysteriously got a thousand pounds!

I don't know what to make of the last paragraph in chapter 52 at the moment. This tale shall not be told in vain, if it shall be found to illustrate the great truth, that guilt, though it may attain temporal splendour, can never confer real happiness; that the evil consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, for ever haunt the steps of the malefactor; and that the paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.'

Whose narrative voice are we hearing here? Scott's or Jedediah's? Or Jeanie's? And whose guilt is being referred to? The survival of Effie's and George's child proves beyond a doubt that Effie was innocent of infanticide. She was guilty of fornication but it's hard for my modern brain to think that means she deserves to have her son murder her lover. But we are shown that she's never really happy once she marries George. I'm less surprised if the narrative voice is referring to George but I would have thought his obvious general unhappiness and disquiet and the fact that he is murdered by his only child at the end of the book would be enough of a sign for readers of that time to pick up on this point without this added paragraph. It just seems so heavy-handed and unnecessary.

The paths of virtue presumably refers to Jeanie.

And then a brief l'envoy from Jedediah which doesn't seem to do much except remind us of the fact that Scott framed the whole story as being narrated by Jedediah which brings me back to the question of why he did that in the first place.

I still haven't read the editor's introduction to my Penguin edition or Scott's introduction to the 1830 edition. I'm hoping to read both over the weekend. There's also 100 pages of textual variations and notes in my edition which I refuse to read. I don't care whether Scott originally wrote 'too' and then changed it to 'over-' in a later version.

it did make me laugh though, after writing about the happy ending in msg 35, I tuned the page and poof! - no happy ending for George and Effie.

Heh! Scott's dream audience! :)

As far as Reuben goes, I guess I like to think that he learned his lesson about mistrusting Jeanie after the meeting on the Cairn. Still, a thousand pounds seems like an excessive test of trust!

This whole last section is weird. You get the whole cosmic justice, closing-of-the-circle thing that you do tend to get in novels, but ultimately, the parties most involved don't know that it's happened - only Jeanie knows that. So who is it a lesson for? The reader?

By the end, surely we can only be talking about George's cumultative guilt? I guess we're supposed to be factoring in the masquerade of "Lady Staunton" - but I don't see how you could attach blame to Effie for that; no-one could expect her to be able to defy George at this stage.

What I don't get is the suggestion that their unhappiness was because of the masquerade - are we supposed to believe they would have been happy if only they'd been content to live in obscurity? Surely the bottom line is that once each of them, in their separate ways, stepped off the "path of virtue", unhappiness was inevitable. Putting it in the context of their public lives seems very strange.

That's interesting about the "disproportionate" fourth volume. My edition says, rather, that Scott only had three-and-a-half volumes of material and had to pad it out! - but maybe he went from one extreme to the other?

I agree with your comments about the "framing". Really, this brings me full circle with regard to reading Scott. With most 19th century writers, I have no trouble immersing myself in their world and language; but the bottom line is, I find Scott hard work. A lot of that is the dialect, but it goes beyond that - I just have trouble putting myself into his mind-set.

I actually found The Heart Of Midlothian an easier read that the other of Scott's novels I have read, and I'm wondering whether that was because of the nature of the story, or perhaps because it was the first of his books to focus on a heroine rather than a hero?

Seriously - one of the things I find irritating about Scott is that his interesting women are never his heroines. So in Waverley, Flora McIvor is not the heroine, and in Ivanhoe, Rebecca is not the heroine. No wonder Maggie Tulliver could make such a list of "the dark unhappy ones"! So perhaps the important thing about THOM is that it's the first time Scott succeeded in making his heroine the focus of the reader's interest and concern.

But I can say this - having someone to read and discuss The Heart Of Midlothian with was a big help - thank you! :)

Sorry to go awol for a few days again - I had good intentions this weekend but they didn't come to anything with regards to HoM.

I don't buy their unhappiness was because of the masquerade. George Staunton seemed written to be doomed to be unhappy whatever his situation.

I've read Scott's introduction to the 1830 edition which briefly covers the facts known about Helen Walker, the real-life Jeanie Deans. And I'm about halfway through the editor's introduction to my Penguin edition and about to give up. I'm sure he has something very important to say but it's written in such a way that I feel like I need a graduate degree in literary criticism to understand what he's talking about and I really can't be bothered.

There was one section which commented on the 'narrative modes' Scott uses which I'm not sure I understand but I will try and type out here to see if you can make anything of it:

'It may, however, be helpful to perceive THoM as neither episodic nor a medley but as a fairly systematic progress through, and exploration of, narrative modes. After the introductory chapter that vividly demonstrates both the refracted nature of narration and the mediating roles of chance and social institutions in the choice of subject, the novel proper begins with historical narrative - an unsolved historical mystery just passing beyond the horizon of living memory, a specific train of public events which, in their brutality, intractability and inscrutability, call in question notions of authority, legality and justice. The novel next adopts a fictional realist method, displaying the formative pressures of economic circumstance, political events and religious ideology on individuals in private life, with a field of action that broadens from farm to the city and its underworld and to the documentary presentation of the system of justice in Effie's trial for infanticide....'

And it goes on some more. I think I might agree about the historical narrative and notions of 'authority, legality and justice' and possibly with his comments on the fictional realist method but the introductory chapter did not 'vividly demonstrate' anything to me.

I'm not sure if I'm encouraged by the fact that you found this book an easier read than Scott's other novels (which one(s) have you read btw?); I've been tentatively thinking about trying another of his (in the far distant future though) as I feel quite interested in Scottishness after reading this and Witch Wood. I'd actually been considering Old Mortality because I think it's about the Covenanters (crazy, crazy girl that I am).

And thank you for reading and discussing with me too. It's been a pleasure :-)

The suggestion that Scott is experimenting with different forms of narrative is one I can embrace, although I still think his framing-device-inside-a-framing-device tactic makes things self-defeatingly difficult.

My introduction had a few interesting things to say comparing THOM to The Crucible - the Puritan lying vs the Puritan not lying. Although it didn't go on to make what I would consider to be the overriding point, lying for a spouse vs lying for a sibling. :)

Apart from THOM, I have read Waverley, Guy Mannering, Ivanhoe, and The Talisman - also The Bride Of Lammermoor, but that one was so long ago I remember next to nothing of it. I think I started The Antiquary but gave up on it. (Which tells you how long ago it must have been! Never do that now...) I own Quentin Durward but haven't read it.

I wouldn't mind taking a crack at Old Mortality, but I'd like a break first. :) Besides, between my own reading and tutored reads, I am scarily booked for the next few months.

Thanks again for coming in on this with me - it made it a lot easier, and a lot more fun!