nd whose judgment I respect has decided and upon good
advisement told me that a manuscript was worth nothing, or at least
possessed no redeeming qualities sufficient to atone for its defects, I
have generally cast it aside; but I am little in the custom of paying
attention to minute criticisms or of offering such to any friend who may
do me the honour to consult me. I am convinced that, in general, in
removing even errors of a trivial or venial kind, the character of
originality is lost, which, upon the whole, may be that which is most
valuable in the production." This position appears doubly significant
when we remember that it was assumed by a man who had only the slightest
possible amount of paternal jealousy in regard to his writings.[376]

Scott did not always adhere to this resolution, for he did accept
criticism and make alterations, more in compliance with the wishes of
James Ballantyne, his friend and printer, than to meet the desires of
anyone else. He considered that Ballantyne represented the ordinary
popular taste, and he was ready to make some sacrifice of his own
judgment in order to satisfy his public. He sent the conclusion of
_Rokeby_ to Ballantyne with this note: "Dear James,--I send you this out
of deference to opinions so strongly expressed, but still retaining my
own, that it spoils one effect without producing another."

When one of his books was adversely criticised by the public he received
the judgment with open mind, and often analyzed it with much acuteness.
The introduction to _The Monastery_ is a good example of frank, though
not servile, submission to the decree of public opinion. That he was
deeply impressed with his blunder in managing the White Lady of Avenel
may be surmised from the fact that in several later discussions of the
effect of supernatural apparitions in novels, he emphasized the
necessity of keeping them sufficiently infrequent to preserve an
atmosphere of mystery. Of _The Monastery_ he said: "I agree with the
public in thinking the work not very interesting; but it was written
with as much care as the others--that is, with no care at all."[377] But
sometimes he felt inclined to rebel against a popular verdict, as when
Norna, in _The Pirate_, was said to be a mere copy of Meg
Merrilies.[378]

In his later days he grew more and more unsure of himself, as he felt
compelled to work at his topmost speed. His _Journal_ for 1829 has the
following record in regard to a review he