iding an entertaining interlude before the arrival of Sir
Walter Scott. Even at the very height of his vogue, they probably
enjoyed a surreptitious popularity, not merely in the servants'
hall, but in the drawing room. Nineteenth century literature
abounds in references to the vogue of this school of fiction.
There were spasmodic attempts at a revival in an anonymous work
called _Forman_ (1819), dedicated to Scott, and in Ainsworth's
_Rookwood_ (1834); and terror has never ceased to be used as a
motive in fiction.

In _Villette_, Lucy Snowe, whose nerves Ginevra describes as
"real iron and bend leather," gazes steadily for the space of
five minutes at the spectral "nun." This episode indicates a
change of fashion; for the lady of Gothic romance could not have
submitted to the ordeal for five seconds without fainting. A more
robust heroine, who thinks clearly and yet feels strongly, has
come into her own. In _Jane Eyre_ many of the situations are
fraught with terror, but it is the power of human passion,
transcending the hideous scenes, that grips our imagination.
Terror is used as a means to an end, not as an end in itself. In
_Wuthering Heights_ the windswept Yorkshire moors are the
background for elemental feelings. We no longer "tremble with
delicious dread" or "snatch a fearful joy." The gloom never
lightens. We live ourselves beneath the shadow of Heathcliff's
awe-inspiring personality, and there is no escape from a terror,
which passes almost beyond the bounds of speech. The Brontes do
not trifle with emotion or use supernatural elements to increase
the tension. Theirs are the terrors of actual life.

Other novelists, contemporary with the Brontes, revel in terror
for its own sake. Wilkie Collins weaves elaborate plots of
hair-raising events. The charm of _The Moonstone_ and the _Woman
in White_ is independent of character or literary finish. It
consists in the unravelling of a skilfully woven fabric. Le Fanu,
who resented the term "sensational" which was justly applied to
his works, plays pitilessly on our nerves with both real and
fictitious horrors. He, like Wilkie Collins, made a cult of
terror. Their literary descendants may perhaps be found in such
authors as Richard Marsh or Bram Stoker, or Sax Rohmer. In Bram
Stoker's _Dracula_ the old vampire legend is brought up to date,
and we are held from beginning to end in a state of frightful
suspense. No one who has read the book will fail to remember the
pic