Excerpt from The Entail For many years I have boon wondering why John Galt's works are fallen into such neglect: that they should be almost wholly forgotten, even by readers to whom Scott and Jane Austen, Fanny Burney and Miss Edgeworth are indispensable, is what I cannot understand. If his Autobiography were not a rare book, an explanation might suggest itself. For supposing that the public, before reading The Entail, Annals of the Parish, or The Ayrshire Legatees, had been so unfortunate as to attempt the reading of the Autobiography, no one could be surprised that it made up its mind to read no more of him. A more tedious, flat, and dull book was never written by a man of genius: it is never interesting, never amusing, and always exasperating to any one who knows what he could do, and has done. To wade through it is very nearly impossible, and there is nothing to be gained by the achievement. Galt's life was not particularly interesting in itself, but many lives less eventful have been so written as to be worth reading, and easy to read. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
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Galt’s 1822 novel, the fictional history of the Walkinshaw family, is a marvelous read. To some extent, his account of the transmission of vice from one generation to another is a morality tale. Three generations of Walkinshaw lords suffer dire consequences from valuing family property over family relationships. However, this work is never preachy and almost always hilarious with the brand of humor we see in Trollope, and in Dickens. The resemblance is especially strong when Galt is taking aim at the legal profession. The plot line is strong with some interesting twists along the way and principal characters—both male and female--are multi-faceted (pretty impressive for 1822). But, Reader, beware: The dialect is very difficult; yet, it is worth the effort. I’m abashed to say that had I known a glossary was present in the back of the book, I would have had an easier time.
I had not heard of John Galt or The Entail (1822) before I picked up a copy of the Oxford English Novels edition edited by Ian Gordon in a charity book shop. I was amazed at the quality of Galt’s writing. The theme is tragic, the corrupting effect of the greed and the obsession with regaining an ancestral estate. The main character of the first volume, Claud, is determined to recover the estate his grandfather and father lost, and to this he sacrifices his children, his peace of mind and his sincere religious belief. The entail, designed to reunite the different parts of the estate exerts a baleful influence even to the next generation. Claud realises what he has done too late to make reparation and he dies in despair, struggling unsuccessfully to sign a legal document that will so something to help the son he has disinherited. His youngest son George, colder, more calculating and hypocritical, destroys his brother Walter by having him declared insane and deposing him from the farm where he was happy. Walter is relegated to a flat in Glasgow, where he is miserable. Walter, the ‘haverel’ is a naïve, childlike man, not capable of understanding the law or managing business, but he is handsome, good natured, happy in his marriage and loves his wife and daughter. Claud has managed to establish legally his ability to inherit as part of his plan to reunite the estate. When Walter’s wife and daughter die he is distraught and George takes the opportunity to have him certified and get control of the estate, only to be frustrated by events he cannot control. Galt’s treatment of his main characters is superb. Claud is shown with real depth, the character of Walter, sometimes comic, sometimes affecting is an unusually sympathetic treatment in fiction of someone who lacks full mental ability. George is a well developed and convincing character, but the third triumph of the novel is The Liddy – Grizel, the wife of Claud. In her Galt shows his mastery of dialect used for sharp observation and often for comic effect. To appreciate this English readers need an edition with notes that explain the dialect. Besides the common dialect terms that come naturally to a woman of a respectable country family The Liddy has an extensive and inaccurate grasp of Scots law and religion, and her constant hilarious malapropisms can’t be appreciated without knowledge of the words she is mangling. The Liddy has a strong sense of her own importance and is always ready to assert it, but she grows in stature through the book and her strong sense of justice and her humanity make a telling counterweight to Claud and George. One strength of the novel is the Scot’s dialect in the characters’ speech; Galt uses varied degrees of it to differentiate their education and status in the community, often to comic effect. Unfortunately The Entail has its flaws. Though there is a fine gallery of minor characters some major ones get very conventional treatment. Charles, Claud’s disinherited first son, seems in the novel to be a means to an end rather than interesting in his own right. The lovers who finally inherit the estate get a cursory romantic treatment, almost as if Galt finds them slightly ridiculous. Galt is much happier with the schemers and grotesques. Another, more damaging flaw is not entirely Galt’s fault. He was under pressure from Blackwood, his publisher, to develop more plot, add dramatic incident and romantic colour to the story. Towards the end, when Galt moved nearer to Blackwood his influence predominated, and we get Highland second sight and a melodramatic shipwreck to round off the plot with poetic justice. This part reads like a poor version of Walter Scott. I should not want to leave any prospective reader with the idea that these defects outweigh the surprising depth and power of the main theme. I was reminded of Gogol and my edition’s blurb mentions Dostoevsky. The comparison is not absurd; I think any reader who, like me, has never heard of Galt will be amazed by the best parts of the novel. Scott read the novel three times and Byron was deeply moved by it. They were not wrong.
The language is very interesting, with the unfamiliar west-Scots dialect in full view. (Thank goodness for the notes in the World's Classics edition.) As a novel, it's rather defective, with the only really sympathetic characters on-stage only late or not much, and the unsympathetic main character off-stage for much of the book. Ane the third "book", of three, gets kind of melodramatic, and is padded out a bit with extraneous narrative. Still, I enjoyed it, and I'm glad I read it.