In the earlier period up to “Ivanhoe,” that famous sortie into English history, belong such masterpieces as “Guy Mannering,” “Old Mortality,” “Heart of Midlothian,” “The Bride of Lammermoor,” and “Rob Roy”; a list which, had he produced nothing else would have sufficed to place him high among the makers of romance.  It is not the intention to analyze these great books one by one—­a task more fit for a volume than a chapter; but to bring out those qualities of his work which are responsible for his place in fiction and influence in the Novel of the nineteenth century.

No story of this group—­nor of his career as a writer—­has won more plaudits than “The Heart of Midlothian.”  Indeed, were the reader forced to the unpleasant necessity of choosing out of the thirty stories which Scott left the world the one most deserving of the prize, possibly the choice would fall on that superb portrayal of Scotch life—­although other fine Novels of the quintet named would have their loyal friends.  To study the peerlessly pathetic tale of Effie and Jeanie Deans is to see Scott at his representative best and note the headmarks of his genius:  it is safe to say that he who finds nothing in it can never care for its author.

The first thing to notice in this novel of the ancient Edinburgh Tolbooth, this romance of faithful sisterhood, is its essential Scotch fiber.  The fact affects the whole work.  It becomes thereby simpler, homelier, more vernacular:  it is a story that is a native emanation.  The groundwork of plot too is simple, vital:  and moreover, founded on a true incident.  Effie, the younger of two sisters, is betrayed; concerning her betrayer there is mystery:  she is supposed to commit child-murder to hide her shame:  a crime then punishable by death.  The story deals with her trial, condemnation and final pardon and happy marriage with her lover through the noble mediation of Jeanie, her elder sister.

In the presentation of an earlier period in Scotland, the opening of the eighteenth century, when all punitive measures were primitive and the lawless social elements seethed with restless discontent, Scott had a fine chance:  and at the very opening, in describing the violent putting to death of Captain Porteous, he skilfully prepares the way for the general picture to be given.  Then, as the story progresses, to the supreme sacrificial effort of Jeanie in behalf of her erring sister’s life, gradually, stroke upon stroke, the period with its religious schisms, its political passions and strong family ties, is so illuminated that while the interest is centered upon the Deans and their homely yet tragic history, Scotch life in an earlier century is envisaged broadly, truthfully, in a way never to grow pale in memory.  Cameraman or King’s man, God-fearing peasant, lawless ruffian or Tory gentleman, the characters are so marshaled that without sides being taken by the writer, one feels the complexity of the period:  and its uncivil wildness is dramatically conveyed as a central fact in the Tolbooth with its grim concomitants of gallows and gaping crowd of sightseers and malcontents.