Religion is a sublime and glorious thing, the bonds of society on earth, and the connector of humanity with the Divine nature; but there is nothing so dangerous to man as the wresting of any of its principles, or forcing them beyond their due bounds: this is of all others the readiest way to destruction. Neither is there anything so easily done. There is not an error into which a man can fall which he may not press Scripture into his service as proof of the probity of

It's a good read, but the problem is that it doesn't really go further than what you'd get from the blurb. Especially once you get to the memoir itself, you've already read "the plot" so to speak and the first person perspective is just him saying "I am part of the elect, wow this is so great" and "this guy who is blatantly the devil is telling me to murder people" and although it's well written it feels predictable and somewhat padded with more events that work out the same way and doesn't really delve into anything deeper.

A strange thing is that the narrative forces you to accept the reality of the supernatural events depicted in the main. There is never any doubt that Gil-Martin *is* the Devil, and there's no doubt he appears completely real to *everyone*, including his shapeshifting abilities. This makes interesting psychological readings harder to sustain. There are several parts which are suggestive of a kind of internal battle, but strangely the fact of the material supernatural makes understanding the sections where it appears it's somehow all in his head much harder. There are a few key sections - when Robert first meets Gil-Martin, when he comes home his mother and stepfather are convinced he has become a genuinely different person. Later on when it appears Gil-Martin is stalking his brother while Robert is sick for a month, he describes feeling like he's two people and yet not actually either person - the two are Gil-Martin and his brother. Near the end he has long gaps in his memory where he apparently both seduced a lady and forged something to force her family off their land, then later murdered her and his mother.

None of these fit in obvious ways with the behaviour of Gil-Martin in the rest of the book and the meaning is lost on me. Gil-Martin in the murders of the pastor and Robert's brother is obviously ensuring that Robert takes 100% of the responsibility (although Gil-Martin also appears to have murdered a judge by himself?) Yet on the memory lapses and the murders he's strangely vague. It feels like a lot more sinning went on and yet we're not only not privy to it but even the Devil doesn't goad him about it. I feel there was stuff going on in the ending that just passed me by

"Surely you are not such a fool," said I, "as to believe that the Devil really was in the printing office?"

"Oo, Gud bless you, sir! Saw him myself, gave him a nod, and good-day. Rather a gentlemanly personage—Green Circassian hunting coat and turban—Like a foreigner—Has the power of vanishing in one moment though—Rather a suspicious circumstance that. Otherwise, his appearance not much against him."

( )

Brilliant and engaging twice told tale. ( )

I LOVE THIS WEIRD BOOK
( )

Not sure I got much from this. Repeating the story from two perspectives and the epilogue which seems to lampshade the idea that the author was going out of their way to be confusing in terms of plot, character and theme left me none the wiser. Read it because Ian Rankin stated his "The Black Book" owed something to this work but I'm afraid I didn't see it. ( )

Despite the pretend double-bluff contained within I'm going to go with the critique of Calvinism interpretation. It probably dates me that what I first thought a few chapters in wasn't Jekyll and Hyde but Fight Club. As for the name Gil Martin, it occurs to me that it's phonetically close to God Almighty which would makes sense seeing as he's created by the protagonist and to him that's what he appears to be. Beyond being ahead of its time it's not that exceptional but I really enjoyed it - I liked the multiple angles (both in the context of narration and interpretation). ( )

https://lyceum.org.uk/whats-on/production/confessions-of-a-justified-sinner ( )

***** for this volume's main entry. This is a one-of-a-kind book that manages to tell the same story in two different ways and achieve two different reactions on the part of the reader. The villain of the first part becomes the narrator of the second part, and it turns out that there are some mitigating circumstances--namely, Satan! Believing completely in predestination and that the Christian saved are that way from birth, and that nothing they can do in life can change that, the villain can commit any crime with everlasting--though perhaps not immediate--impunity. To say more would spoil the experience. The book is full of Scots dialect, but pretty easy to understand, as the thickest dialect is reserved for the speech of rustic characters. (The glossary at the back of the book is very selective, so most dialect words aren't even defined, but I found it wasn't that hard to get the gist, and there's always Google.) In any case, this is a unique reading experience and about as good a story of the devil as you'll find. It has memorable scenes, great characters, and well-drawn settings. And even humor. Don't miss it.

And I should note that it isn't necessary to understand the various competing Scottish theologies and factions or other things the editor's over-complex introduction discusses. In fact, you'll probably enjoy it more by skipping the introduction, since it really does nothing to help you read the story. (At least, it has no spoilers, so I'll give it that much credit.) Reading it afterwards would probably make it better.

The Penguin Classics edition includes two more stories in the volume:

Marion's Jock ****
Once you get past the nearly impenetrable Scots dialect, this story of a very hungry servant and the lengths he goes to to satisfy his desire for meat is quite entertaining and funny.

John Gray O' Middlehome ****
This is another enjoyable story, despite the Scots dialect, of a weaver who has a dream of buried treasure. The reactions of his wife and the people of his village to his strange behavior are very funny. ( )

I bought a copy of James Hogg's "The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner" for a group read months ago. The cover of this edition freaked one of my kids out, so I put it "away" and promptly lost it... it turned up recently so I decided to give it a go.

The plot of the story is centered around Robert, who may or may not have been the son of Laird Colwan -- who grows up a Calvinist who believes he has been chosen to go to heaven no matter what he does. He comes under the influence of a man -- or the devil -- and commits a series of crimes (or the devil does.)

If it sounds convoluted, you're right it is. At times this was tough to get to, although I thought the overall concept of the story was interesting. The execution was what made it a tough read. ( )

This is a very convoluted tale of two brothers and perhaps a demonic being. This is billed as a satire on Calvinism. The premise of the story is that Robert, the youngest "son" of the Laird (but perhaps the son of the Parson) is convinced by his best friend (perhaps the "demon") that since he is of the elect, that nothing he does will be cause for him to lose his place in heaven. Robert really isn't a bad guy and doesn't understand why he's being accused of all sort of things, including the murder of his brother and mother. This reader thinks it was the demon who committed these acts. Half of the time I had no idea who was telling the story, Robert, or his brother, or "the editor." Good thing this book was short or I would have put it down and not finished. Also the servant's dialogue was almost unintelligible to me; much like Cockney only Scottish. Not recommended. 206 pages ( )

In the early 1700s, one brother is brought up in Southern Scotland as the son of the laird, the other as the adopted son of a clergyman. There is trouble when they meet.

This peculiar book is a mixture of parody of confessional literature, criticism of extreme theology, and horror. It took me a while to get my bearings, but once I had, I loved it. ( )

James Hogg’s 1824 novel, The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner: Written by Himself: With a detail of curious traditionary facts and other evidence by the editor tells the story of the George Colwan, the Laird of Dalcastle, and his two sons, George and Robert. The elder Laird marries Rabina Orde, a devout woman who rejects his impiousness. She later has a son, George, who is the Laird’s heir. Her second son, Robert, is strongly implied to be the son of her minister, the Reverend Wringhim. The two brothers are separated, with George learning all he needs to become the future Laird while Wringhim raises Robert in his antinomian Calvinist beliefs. When the two brothers meet later on, they frequently fight. George dies in an apparent duel and Robert is accused of the murder, but disappears before he can face trial.

The second half of the novel tells the story from Robert’s point of view, with his antinomian beliefs allowing him to sin with abandon. Robert falls under the sway of a shape-shifting man who encourages him to sin further. The man calls himself Gil-Martin, but Robert believes him to be Czar Peter of Russia (pg. 127). When Robert first questions Gil-Martin about his name, the shape-shifter says, “You may call me Gil-Martin. It is not my Christian name; but it is a name which may serve your turn” (pg. 122). He further states, “I have no parents save one, whom I do not acknowledge” (pg. 122). Hogg intends for the readers to infer that Gil-Martin is the Devil, though he also introduces enough doubt that Gil-Martin may be nothing more than a figment of Robert’s imagination. This version of the literary Devil is particularly interesting, as the doubt over his existence and the fact that he cannot make Robert do anything that he doesn’t want to anyway encourages further questioning of theological dogmatism.

The novel engages directly with Calvinist theology and the concept of predestination, with Robert, the “sinner,” describing himself as “justified” to refer to his acceptance of Calvinism and belief that he is among the elect predestined for paradise, which contradicts the belief that good works could gain entry to heaven. Thus, Robert points out one of the flaws with antinomian predestination (besides assuming the existence of an all-powerful being without repeatable, testable evidence) – if good works will not permit entry to paradise since the “saved” have been chosen since the beginning of time, then they are free to sin at will confident in their belief that their sins were already cleansed through the crucifixion. The “sinner” muses upon this, thinking, “The more I pondered on these things, the more I saw of the folly and inconsistency of ministers, in spending their lives, striving and remonstrating with sinners, in order to induce them to do that which they had it not in their power to do” (pg. 117). Hogg further criticizes the gullible or easily misled through his portrayal of Reverend Wringhim’s belief in maternal impression, a belief William Hogarth criticized in his 1762 satirical print, Credulity, Superstition and Fanaticism (pg. 104). For those interested in Scottish literature or work that engages with the Scottish Reformation, this is a must-read, though Hogg’s use of dialect to capture the Scottish brogue coupled with archaic slang may be difficult for nonacademic readers. ( )

Who is he that causeth the mole, from his secret path of darkness, to throw up the gem, the gold, and the precious ore?

Hogg should be better remembered. Justified Sinner is a dark revelation, one less gothic than psychological. The novel is a headbirth which ignores Lewis/Walpole/Radcliff and instead Babadooks from a nascent emotional realism, one like Fyodor's magic door where everything is tinged yellow and seizures lead to murder. Speaking of crows, I heartily endorse the subtext as being an opposition to fanaticism or any dogmatic approach to life or social order. (Please leave the room, Rick Santorum). The novel is two tiered, a found editor's investigation and a journal form the eponymous: the latter is vain, contradictory and doomed. Sorry for the spoiler: what else could you expect from an early novel where Old Scratch is the wingman? There are veiled thoughts on marriage and inheritance at play, poky pines towards Church imposition. That said, this proved an enjoyable bout with the more sinister angels of our nature.
( )

I was predestined and ordained from the beginning of time to love this book. ( )

Hogg's darkly comic moralistic tale is unjustifiably obscure. The elegantly crafted 19th century tale of a rich young man who justifies his violent tendencies through both the doctrine of predestination and the influence of a nameless stranger. He is an amoral sinner, building his repertoire up to murder as soon as he is declared saved by his reverend adoptive father. Hogg's sophisticated prose offers a classic dark tale of temptation by an external devil as well as a modern psychological (internal sublimation) reading. The story is wholly microscopic of 19th century Scotland, but wholly timeless and universal. ( )

An eerie Caledonian fable about religious dogmatism, which works simultaneously on dozens of levels – atmospheric, intellectual, generic, geographical – and all of them engaging. With its in-jokes, its metafictional structure and even a cheeky authorial self-insertion, it reads very much like something faked-up by Pynchon or Coover or some other contemporary experimentalist: a postmodern rewrite of Gothic Romance. But this is very much the original article.

The accoutrements of the genre are all there – doppelgängers, sublime nature, black-clad figures, looming architecture, eldritch forces that man should not wot of – but fused, here, with the Scottish landscape in a way that locates the horrors of the story firmly ‘at home’. (This is unlike Gothic fiction from south of the border, which tends to go abroad to find its otherworldliness – Switzerland for Frankenstein, Italy for The Castle of Otranto, France for Udolpho, Romania for Dracula.) The supernatural elements are also built up over a scaffolding of fascinating religious debate that comes out of the split between Calvinists and religious liberals in Scotland in the nineteenth century.

The root of the story is in the dispiriting notion of predestination, which, as Hogg's protagonist points out, makes ‘the economy of the Christian world…an absolute contradiction’.

Seeing that God had from all eternity decided the fate of every individual that was to be born of woman, how vain it was in man to endeavour to save those whom their Maker had, by an unchangeable decree, doomed to destruction.

Not only does this theory, taken to its logical conclusion, make preaching and religious guidance a complete waste of time, it also means that your own actions have no bearing whatever on your eventual fate amid the celestial choirs or the sulphurous pits. In which case, if you happen to know that you're heading upwards – that you're theologically ‘justified’ – then what's to stop you doing anything you like? Rape…murder…fratricide…there are no limits.

The concept is a brilliant one and Hogg plays it for everything it's worth. His interest in ideas of confused identity, psychological breakdown and multiple ‘truths’ makes it easy to understand why the book was so enthusiastically rediscovered towards the end of the twentieth century after decades of neglect; throw in the religious extremism and it's never been more relevant. It's also genuinely creepy. The character of Gil-Martin is one of the best literary treatments of the Devil I've encountered, and some of the set-pieces have a real uncanniness to them which is hard to pull off. A fascinating book, and an excellent choice for anyone in search of a suitably nightmarish Hallowe'en read. ( )

I downloaded this book from project Gutenberg. Gothic novels don't have the fast paced action that modern books have so I think you either like or you don't. Personally, I love gothic novels. The old Scots dialect may be a little difficult for some people to understand. It was a strange story, dwelling on religion and the supernatural; the devil in particular. I agree with another reviewer; great devil, smooth talker, charming and persuasive. ( )

This was for bookclub and I'm not sure I would have managed to find it otherwise but it was interesting. It wasn't hard to read but hard to figure out. I think it may have been religious allegory but my lack of knowledge of Scottish religions and politics made it harder to understand. Still, an interesting experience.

This is a gothic novel and a satire on religious fanaticism. The doctrine of predestination is used by the main character as an excuse for committing a number of heinous crimes under the influence of a "mysterious stranger". It turned out to be a pretty good read due to the element of psychological suspense. ( )

Hilarious and appalling at the same time. ( )

Um livro alucinante, mistura de novela gótica, romance psicológico e sátira. O protagonista é Robert Wringhim, jovem que, atormentado pela doutrina da predestinação de Calvino e pelo seu doppelganger, Gil-Martin, é levado a uma série de crimes. É geralmente tido como a inspiração para o Estranho Caso de Dr. Jeckyll e Mr. Hyde, conhecido como O Médico e o Monstro, de Robert Louis Stevenson. ( )

Creepy tale of religion gone wrong. ( )

One of the novels that has had the most influence on me. Electrifying read - one of the forgotten classics. ( )

"Confessions of a Justified Sinner" is exciting because it wears so many hats - it's a gothic novel, a murder mystery, and perhaps most of all a trenchant critique of Calvinist thought. It consists of three parts: an objective summary of events in the novel, the events as told through the eyes of Robert Wringham, and the retelling of how the author (who also uses the name James Hogg) came across Wringham's account of the story. True to the early eighteenth century's Romantic fascination with all things fragmentary, broken, and incomplete, this novel uses the conceit of being a "found document," in this case the handwritten history of Robert's experiences.

The beginning of the novel tells of the marriage of a young, conservative termagant named Rabina to George Colwan, an outgoing, fun-loving man who is put off by Rabina's extreme Calvinism. Their marriage effectively ends in their separation, but not before he impregnates her (probably in an act of rape), after which she gives birth to George. His father raises him well, and he grows up to be an academically gifted, well-adjusted young man. Shortly after the separation, Rabina's ultra-conservative religious advisor Reverend Wringham moves in with her, and she soon has another child (this time probably by the Reverend) named Robert, who takes Wringham's name. Robert turns out to be the anti-George: maladjusted, antisocial, vindictive, and hateful. The Reverend convinces Robert that he is justified in the eyes of God - that is, guaranteed to go to Heaven and be forgiven of whatever sins he might happen to commit on Earth. As one of God's elect, he can do no wrong.

Even though they were raised separately and never allowed to see one another, sometime during early adulthood, Robert starts to stalk George through the city of Edinburgh, generally causing trouble wherever he goes. George also begins to notice that wherever he is, Robert is also very close by, as if he is being shadowed by a doppelganger. Robert's malevolent antics do everything from strike terror into the heart of George to causing a town-wide fracas. When George is finally murdered in a drunken brawl, his step-mother encounters a prostitute who claims to have seen the incident. She says that Robert did it. Later, Robert admits to the crime in one of the most revealing confessions in all of literature, putting on full display his strange, perverse motives, obsessions and compulsions about the purity of his soul.

The second part of the novel shifts into Robert's telling of the story, and we learn of the presence of one Gil-Martin, who has goaded and encouraged Robert's deviance, even doing so in the name of Calvinistic sanctity and justice. Gil-Martin is also a protean shape-shifter who can assume Robert's form at will, and commits murder while doing so. At first, Robert understands the necessity of these acts because they are in the name of the greatness of God. But eventually Robert's doubts start to grow as to how holy Gil-Martin's murders really are. Even the prototypical Calvinist fanatic ends up having a conscience. At the end of the novel, the reader is still left hanging as to Gil-Martin's identity. Is he real, or merely a figment of Robert's imagination?

Some of what I read, I read out of a sense of obligation, because I think I need to. I thought this would be one of those books, too. I was surprised to find that it moved at the clip of a modern psychological thriller, while always maintaining its literariness. If you found anything to admire in Walpole's "The Castle of Otranto" or Lewis' "The Monk," I highly recommend this. ( )

Something that has affected one as profoundly as this novel has affected me is difficult to do justice to in a brief review; but it is harder to do it justice in a longer format, so this will have to serve as a short, scattered, and unworthy paean to a novel of such sinister and cosmic power, that my fingers literally tremble when it comes up for discussion.

The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner is a dreamy, poisonous, utterly enthralling portrait of the latent (and perhaps extant, perhaps non-extant) evils of a world seeking the favors of God. But it is also a testament to the power of faith, for good or ill, and its pages do not drip solely with venom, but also with ambivalence: such heady themes leave a great deal open to interpretation, and like all of the best polemics, Justified Sinner leaves a great deal of its 'conclusions' open-ended.

Words, brief and fickle, fail to summarize Hogg's novel. It is a convoluted and absolutely fascinating study of doubles: double-thoughts, double-motives, double-narrators, double-faiths. That at its heart is a black and troubling mysticism more brooding and pernicious than even its titular Sinner is testament to its powerful mastery of the clean and the unclean, here tempered in a very personal alchemy to produce a narrative of unwavering enigma.

Above all, it is a novel of religion: a firm rejection of Calvinistic dogma and the caustic tenets of Predestination, and a peerless embodiment of the private faith at the roots of some of the darkest shadows of the Romantic's muse. Hogg is an eerie prophet, and this complex, eddying tale his opus, revealed through the syrupy fog of confession, violence, madness, and reprobation. The suspicion that we cannot trust multiple, and even third-party, points of view (despite the relative merits of each) is genius; the suggestion that an entity as singular and terrifying as Gil-Martin may both exist and yet also not exist, the mark of an author of exceptional gifts and striking power.

In short: perdition is spilled upon these pages, and yet also the unmistakable ghost of an uncanny and all-knowing grace.

Highly, highly recommended. ( )

Quite what the meaning of this story is is a difficult thing to fathom, as consistent accounts of important events throughout are elusive. The book tells parts of the story from two main viewpoints, beginning with that of the good brother, going onto the bad brother, and with a small bits from whoever is presenting us the story.
To begin with it seems as if the main dichotomy exists between the good brother and the bad brother - the lawful and recognised son of the Laird, George, and the spurned brother Robert (or half brother perhaps, it is hinted), with the former being athletic, of good temper, and sociable, and the latter being studious, unsocial, religious, fanatical, and of bad nature, and brought up by the Rvnd. Wringham who has adopted him as his son.
The eponymous Justified Sinner, Robert, is a follower of the Calvinist heresy, believing that people are either chosen for eternal salvation or condemnation before birth, by God, and that their actions throughout their life cannot change this decision. He is told by his father, a cleric, that he has been saved, which gives him carte blanche for committing as much sin as he likes, feeling he is already justified and that his actions can do him no harm. Robert is not a completely bad character though, and sometimes experiences doubt about the correctness of his actions before carrying out crimes, and guilt afterwards, but is dragged down by a mysterious stranger who earns his confidence and befriends him; these two, not the two brothers, are the ones who take prominence in the story. Subtle and not so subtle hints that this stranger is the devil himself are presented, but Robert believes for much of it that he is a messenger of God, a guardian, and that things such as the murdering of sinners that he convinces him to do are righteous, though he does eventually come to loathe him.
Alternatively, it could be seen that the stranger and himself are aspects of the same schizophrenic character, with one being good and the other evil, with their existence as separate people being metaphoric, but this is left for us to decide.
Whatever the reader is meant to understand, (and I doubt the author accidentally left things this ambiguous), this is a powerful tale of warning against conceit of ones own ideas, and the danger of not critically assessing the truth of what other people tell you; this moral is illustrated both by the way the main character accepts what bad influences tell him, and how this leads him into trouble, and also by the way the author gives opposing or inconsistent details of events, in order to challenge our credulity and teach us to make our own conclusions instead. ( )