t merely the
critical pleasure of comparing a man's work (as can rarely be done)
during his period of groping for the way, with his actual stumble into
it for the first time, but also such justification as there is for the
hero's figure. Nobody ever judged the unlucky captain of Gardiner's
better than his creator, who at the time frankly called him 'a sneaking
piece of imbecility,' and avowed, with as much probability as right,
that 'if he had married Flora, she would have set him up on the
chimney-piece, as Count Borowlaski's[25] wife used to do.' But his
weaknesses have at least an excuse from his education and antecedents,
which does not appear if these antecedents are neglected.

Still, the story-interest only begins when Waverley rides into the
bear-warded avenue; it certainly never ceases till the golden image of
the same totem is replaced in the Baron of Bradwardine's hand. And it is
very particularly to be observed that this interest is of a kind
absolutely novel in combination and idiosyncrasy. The elements of
literary interest are nowhere new, except in what is, for aught we know,
accidentally the earliest literature _to us_. They are all to be found
in Homer, in the Book of Job, in the _Agamemnon_, in the _Lancelot_, in
the _Poem of the Cid_. But from time to time, in the hands of the men of
greater genius, they are shaken up afresh, they receive new adjustments,
and a touch of something personal which transforms them. This new
adjustment and touch produced in Scott's case what we call the
Historical Novel.[24] It is quite a mistake to think that he was limited
to this. _Guy Mannering_ and _The Antiquary_ among the earlier novels,
_St. Ronan's Well_ and the exquisite introductory sketch to the
_Chronicles of the Canongate_ among the later, would disprove that. But
the historical novel was the new kind that he was 'born to introduce,'
after many failures in many generations. It is difficult to say whether
it was accident or property which made his success in it co-existent
with his success in depicting national character, scenery, and manners.
Attempts at this, not always unsuccessful attempts, had indeed been made
before. It had been tried frequently, though usually in the sense of
caricature, on the stage; it had been done quite recently in the novel
by Miss Edgeworth (whom Scott at least professed to regard as his
governess here), and much earlier in this very department of Scotch
matters by Smollett. But i