1832.] M onthly Review of Literature. \\g 



teristic of Sir Walter so clearly, and the second cannot be said to be so strongly 

 marked as in the Heart of Mid-Lothian, and many others of that class. We do 

 not feel that sympathy in the success and misfortune of individuals, however 

 high their rank, without the charm of locality. And thus Hereward is the 

 character whom we chiefly admire, and in whose fate we take the greatest 

 interest, simply because he is a Briton. But in all of Sir Walter Scott's novels, 

 however uninteresting they may be, which is but seldom the case, there are 

 always certain redeeming parts which abundantly reward the perusal. Thus 

 for instance in Count Robert of Paris, at the beginning of the first volume, the 

 description of Hereward sleeping under the grand gate of Constantinople, and his 

 attempted assassination by the Milesian ; his interview with his commander, 

 Achilles Tatius ; the character of Agelastes, the ambitious philosopher, the grand 

 mover of the conspiracy, who hides pride under the garb of humility; the 

 haughty and proud Caesar Nicephorus Briennius, together with the Emperor 

 Alexius, who penetrates through their designs with (what we now call) the 

 cunning of a Greek. We may likewise refer to Count Robert and the ourang- 

 outang, who takes no inconsiderable part in the story, as among the best of the 

 portraits. In the lady of Count Robert of Paris, a perfect Amazon, and in her 

 servant, Batha, we recognize the pencil of Sir Walter Scott. But though 

 beautiful passages abound in great profusion, yet, comparing the tale with some 

 of its predecessors, we must say, " sequiturque patrem haud passibus 

 aequis." 



Castle Dangerous transports us from Constantinople to the strong-holds of 

 the Douglas family in Scotland. In the war between England and Scotland, to 

 establish the independence of the latter, Sir John De Walton said that he would 

 hold the Douglas Castle for a year and a day against the Scottish power. 

 Augusta de Berkely, the heiress of a large estate, promised her hand in marriage 

 to him if he succeeded in the attempt. Sir John De Walton eventually marries 

 the Lady of Berkely, although the Earl of Douglas recovered his own castle 

 before the year and the day had elapsed. There are the adventures of Augusta, 

 who travels into Scotland, impatient of the various contradictory rumours 

 which are brought of the fate of her lover there is the quarrel between John 

 De Walton and the knight, second in command at the castle, Sir Aymer de 

 Valence there is the story of Sister Ursula, and others of equal spirit and 

 excellence. To our historical readers we need not say, that some of the leading 

 incidents are directly in opposition to historical facts. 



At the commencement of the fourth volume there is a description of what are 

 called the pleasures of the chase ; a few lines will suffice to show the spirit of 

 the passage : 



" If indeed one species of exercise can be pointed out as more universally 

 exhilarating and engrossing than others, it is certainly' that of the chase. The 

 poor over-laboured drudge, who has served out his day of life, and wearied all his 

 energies in the service of his fellow-mortals he who has been for many years the 

 slave of agriculturers or (still worse) of manufacturers engaged in raising a single 

 peck of corn from year to year, or in the monotonous labours of the desk can 

 hardly remain dead to the general happiness when the chase sweeps past him with 

 hound and horn, and for a moment feels all the exultation of the proudest cavalier 

 who partakes the amusement." 



And if our sturdy and independent husbandmen, once the pride and boast of 

 England, the same class who drew their cloth-yard shaft at Agincourt, and who 

 dealt their deadly vollies at Waterloo, are now the " slaves" of agriculture, 

 who but Sir Walter Scott, and such as he, has made them so ? The happiness, 

 independence, and honour, of millions of their fellow-countrymen would they 

 sacrifice, rather than curtail by one inch their robes of pride, or pluck one 

 strawberry-leaf from their jewelled coronets. We should feel more honest 

 pride in being a tiller of the earth " over-laboured drudge" though he now be 

 an occupation which sages and warriors have ennobled, than in " sweeping," 

 even with the sounding concomitants of " hound and horn," after the most 

 stinking fox that ever was cubbed ! 



