Perhaps your name has been passed down through the generations, perhaps it was chosen for a specific meaning, or maybe it just sounded "right" to your parents.
I always thought I was named after my maternal grandmother, Emily Jean Passmore, a Ten-pound Pom who emigrated from Devon to New Zealand in 1962 to try her luck in the far south.
But as it turns out, my father chose my name. I was actually named after a character in Sir Walter Scott’s novel The Heart of Midlothian — dairy farmer and housewife Jeanie Deans.
In the 18th century, Jeanie became one of Scott’s most admired characters, celebrated as a fine example of an honest, pious, and upright woman. In fact, her popularity was so enduring that the name "Jeanie Deans" was given to numerous pubs, ships, trains, an opera, a play, a poem, a song, a hybrid rose, a geriatric ward at Helensburgh hospital, and even a type of Antipodean potato.
I keep fine company.
The shame of it all, is that I haven’t yet read The Heart of the Midlothian.
You see, my father had a deep, almost reverential love for the novels and stories of Sir Walter Scott. He would wax lyrical about Scott’s historical tales, his vivid descriptions of Highland life, his dashing heroes and nefarious villains, and his rich poetic language. He urged me relentlessly to read the Waverley novels with a passion that was exhausting.
So, just as I resisted his exhortations to read my Bible every night and his insistence that I attend church multiple times a week, I steadfastly refused to read Scott’s novels, even though it meant turning away from something Dad held dear.
My undergraduate degree at the University of Otago challenged this teenage attitude; I was required to read The Keepsake Stories for one of my classes and, with this, I was hooked, haunted and hungry for more.
Ghost story The Tapestried Chamber was enthralling — spoiler alert — the ghastly face of the evil old woman who hovers above the narrator in his bedchambers seemed to appear to me the night I read the story. The Two Drovers, a story of Highland honour, cultural conflict, and vengeance made history real to me and ignited my interest in Highland codes and customs.
But who was Sir Walter Scott anyway?
True to his name, he was Scottish. He was also a pioneering novelist, poet, biographer, and historian, and is known as the father of historical fiction for his meticulously plotted stories of love, loyalty, honour and cultural clashes.
Born in Edinburgh in 1771, Scott initially practised law, but soon turned to literature, penning wildly successful novels like Waverley, Ivanhoe and Rob Roy. Scott captivated readers across Europe and became one of the first internationally celebrated British authors.
Although his star has faded somewhat (his novels are hardly flying off the shelves), it is no understatement to say that Scott’s literature irrevocably shaped Scottish identity, the historical novel genre and international literature.
With Waverley (1814), Scott set a new literary standard by placing fictional characters within authentic historical contexts, such as the Jacobite Rising of 1745.
Through carefully researched settings and realistic portrayals of key Scottish events such as the Jacobite Rebellions, the Acts of Union 1707 and the legendary exploits of figures like Rob Roy MacGregor, Scott reinvigorated Scotland’s past, making Scottish history accessible and engaging for readers worldwide.
Scott’s dedication to authenticity — drawing from documents, folklore and oral traditions — imbued his novels with a real sense of place and time, while his use of Scots dialect added depth and local colour.
Scott showed that history could be more than a mere backdrop; it could be the fabric of the story itself.
In a sense, Scott was the original public relations expert for Scotland; he moulded Scottish national identity and promoted it to the masses. At a time when Highland culture was in decline following the devastation of Culloden and the Highland Clearances, Scott's novels, especially Rob Roy and the Waverley series, rekindled a fierce pride in Scotland’s rich and rebellious history. Scott’s Highlands was a land of rugged beauty and noble clans; his Lowlands were similarly proud and storied.
"Breathes there the man with soul so dead," he wrote in The Lay of the Last Minstrel, "Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land."
Indeed, Scott’s orchestration of King George IV’s 1822 visit to Edinburgh became a defining moment: he revived the tartan and Highland dress, cementing a picturesque image of Scotland that endures to this day.
Just go for a stroll down the Royal Mile, or even George St in Dunedin, and you’ll see what I mean.
Scott, however, was not without his shortcomings. Although his vibrant portrayals of Highland landscapes and noble clans captivated audiences worldwide, many critics contend that he presented an idealised history draped in tartan, glossing over the harsh aftermath of Culloden and the grim realities of the Highland Clearances.
His adherence to the social order of his time and conservative stance on class and gender also influenced his narratives.
Scott’s legacy stretches far beyond the shadowed Highlands; he laid the foundation for modern historical storytelling, inspiring literary giants from Charles Dickens to Victor Hugo and even contemporary authors such as Hilary Mantel and Diana Gabaldon.
I can’t help but wish I’d taken more time to explore Sir Walter Scott’s writings with my father before he died.
The Waverley novels, Scott’s Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, all the works I promised Dad I’d get to "one day" — they remained on the shelf until it was too late.
I wish I could see Dad’s face light up as he recounts his favourite passages of Scott; I wish I could tell him how much I enjoyed Ivanhoe and Scott’s history of Scotland.
Scott’s words may offer comfort, though: "Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening."
— Jean Balchin is an ODT columnist who has started a new life in Edinburgh.
