rough all its bright panoply; while even in that most powerful of the
series the impossible archeries and ax-strokes, the incredibly opportune
appearances of Locksley, the death of Ulrica, and the resuscitation of
Athelstane, are partly boyish, partly feverish. Caleb in the "Bride,"
Triptolemus and Halcro in the "Pirate," are all laborious, and the first
incongruous; half a volume of the "Abbot" is spent in extremely dull
detail of Roland's relations with his fellow-servants and his mistress,
which have nothing whatever to do with the future story; and the lady of
Avenel herself disappears after the first volume, "like a snaw-wreath
when it's thaw, Jeanie." The public has for itself pronounced on the
"Monastery," though as much too harshly as it has foolishly praised the
horrors of "Ravenswood" and the nonsense of "Ivanhoe"; because the
modern public finds in the torture and adventure of these, the kind of
excitement which it seeks at an opera, while it has no sympathy whatever
with the pastoral happiness of Glendearg, or with the lingering
simplicities of superstition which give historical likelihood to the
legend of the White Lady.

But both this despised tale and its sequel have Scott's heart in them.
The first was begun to refresh himself in the intervals of artificial
labor on "Ivanhoe." "It was a relief," he said, "to interlay the scenery
most familiar to me[55] with the strange world for which I had to draw
so much on imagination." Through all the closing scenes of the second he
is raised to his own true level by his love for the queen. And within
the code of Scott's work to which I am about to appeal for illustration
of his essential powers, I accept the "Monastery" and "Abbot," and
reject from it the remaining four of this group.

27. The last series contains two quite noble ones, "Redgauntlet" and
"Nigel"; two of very high value, "Durward" and "Woodstock"; the slovenly
and diffuse "Peveril," written for the trade;[56] the sickly "Tales of
the Crusaders," and the entirely broken and diseased "St. Ronan's Well."
This last I throw out of count altogether, and of the rest, accept only
the four first named as sound work; so that the list of the novels in
which I propose to examine his methods and ideal standards, reduces
itself to these following twelve (named in order of production):
"Waverley," "Guy Mannering," the "Antiquary," "Rob Roy," "Old
Mortality," the "Heart of Midlothian," the "Monastery," the "Abbot,"